Page 11
Once the young guy left, the silence was heavy. It seemed as if everyone was staring at me, expecting me to offer a topic for discussion. I had no idea what to say. With my bandmates, I rarely had to talk. They all took up a lot of space and rarely noticed me.
“So, what’s good here? You guys eat here a lot?” Thatcher asked, coming to my rescue.
Kit grinned. “Not a lot, but often enough. The guys have cut back on eating meat and actually have a trainer who travels with them. It takes a lot more energy to maintain their schedule when they’re on tour, so they’ve started eating cleaner and partying less.”
Thatcher smiled. “When is the next tour?”
I turned to Riv and grinned. “We need to write the next album first.”
“Yeah, we do, but with you just down the beach, we can get it done. We have three months until Rocktoberfest. We need to have something new to offer the fans when we play there.”
My gut churned at the reminder. I wouldn’t be able to play by mid-October. I knew it, and River knew it as well, based on the horrified look on his face.
“We also need a drummer and a bass player,” I said quietly. It wasn’t a truth we wanted to face, but it was there, nonetheless.
The server returned with a carafe of ice water and filled our glasses. “I recommend the butternut squash hummus as an appetizer. Our special today is the portobello fajitas with gluten-free corn tortillas, grilled onions, tomatoes, and bell peppers. It comes with vegan cheese and vegan sour cream on the side, along with vegan refried beans and vegan Spanish rice. Our cocktail special is a skinny mango margarita. I’ll be back to take your order.”
He hurried away, and we picked up our menus, though I couldn’t concentrate on the offerings. The only thing going through my mind was the fact that we had no drummer, no bass player, and my heart wasn’t in the music we made anymore.
That revelation made my stomach roll. My life was falling apart around me, and I was helpless to stop it.
River knew something was very wrong with me because he knew me well, but it seemed to me reality had crashed into him too. Kit and Thatcher kept the conversation flowing as they exchanged surfing stories, covering the silence between Riv and me.
River didn’t take his gaze from me as we ate, which made me uneasy. I wished to hell I could smoke a bowl, but my weed supplier had died in the bus crash, and maybe it was my doing? God, life could change in a flash.
An hour later, our group was outside the restaurant, ready to leave.
“Goodnight.”
I hugged Riv and Kit before getting into Thatcher’s Jeep. I needed to think. It was rude to just walk away, but I left Thatcher on the sidewalk with my friends as I fought the tears from the realization that my life would never be the same.
Thatcher slid into the driver’s seat and started the vehicle, waving to Riv and Kit before they got into Kit’s truck. “You okay, JD? You got pretty quiet at dinner.”
“I’m fine. Just got lost in thought.” And stressed about all the shit that was going to change.
What will I do for a living? Where will I live? I’m really too old to have a roommate, which spawned thoughts of Thatcher inviting me to live in his house out of pity.
“Anything you want to talk about?” Thatcher’s voice was steady and quiet, just like the man himself.
I swung my gaze toward him as he drove us back to the beach. “No. Thanks.” We rode in silence for the next ten minutes.
When we arrived at the house, I followed Thatcher around the back and watched him grab the key from under the frog, my concern for the practice sparking again. “I know you said nobody would want anything you have inside, but it still seems risky to me to have the key under there.”
He stood and unlocked the door before bringing the key inside. I followed him to the kitchen so I could get some water to take my nightly melatonin.
“I’ve thought about what you said, and I don’t want you to worry about it. I’ll get another one made for you tomorrow, and we won’t keep one out there any longer. If I lose my key in the surf, maybe you’ll be here to let me in.” Thatcher placed the key on the counter.
He walked to the fridge and grabbed a beer. “I’m going to sit outside for a while and listen to the scanner. You’re welcome to join me.”
I had no idea what a scanner was, and I was too embarrassed to ask. “I’m just going to put my things away and go to bed. Thanks again for everything.” I took my water bottle and went down the hall to the room where I’d be sleeping.
I closed the door and turned on the lighted ceiling fan. The room was small, but not claustrophobic. The furniture was white: a queen-sized bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. The ensuite door slid into a pocket so it didn’t open into the bedroom and take up much-needed space.
The room was cozy, even with pastel pillows, bedspread, and curtains. It was kind of cheery, which was something I needed of late. I put my bass in the closet in its case and propped my six-string in the corner, making a mental note to order a stand for it since I’d left River’s extra stand at his house.
After I put away my clothes and shoes, I hoisted my suitcase onto the top shelf of the closet and sat on the bed. The curtains were open next to the headboard, and the view of the water was nice. A beautiful crescent moon hung in the sky, lighting up the waves as they glided over the sandy shore.
When my eyes started getting heavy, I turned down the bed and began undressing. My mind was slowing down, which was good. I’d had a lot of trouble sleeping lately, and I hoped that trend was about to come to an end, thanks to my new friend, melatonin.