Silence.
“Yeah, I know––”
Silence.
“Dad––”
Crap.
More silence.
“I’ll talk to him and see what he says,” Fender murmurs a few seconds later.
Silence.
“He’s not a child. Pushing him on this––”
Silence.
“Let me talk to him, first. No, Dad––”
His head hangs low. “Yeah. Thanks. We’re really excited.”
Silence.
“See you soon.”
He hangs up and stares blankly at the phone in his hand.
“What’d he say?” Gibson demands.
Still refusing to look at us, Fen drops his phone onto the seat cushion beside him, gets to his feet, and mutters, “He saw the video.”
“And?”
“And he said it was really good.”
A long pause follows his declaration, but I know the conversation is far from over. Gibson’s too frustrated. Too anxious. Too pent up to let it go, and I don’t blame him. He probably feels violated. Heck, I feel violated, and he isn’t even my father.
My heart starts pounding, but I try to shake it off and focus on what’s important right now. Gibson. And his dad. Who, apparently, liked the song. That’s a good thing, right? Or at least, it would be if it weren’t for Gibson’s crappy relationship with the guy.
Poor Gibbs.
“Is that it?” he asks Fen, every muscle in his body poised and ready to strike even though there isn’t a single physical threat in the RV. Just a psychological one. And it’s wreaking havoc on him right before my eyes.
Fen’s jaw is clenched as he scrapes his fingernails against it and looks up at Gibson on the top bunk. “He, uh, he wants to come to a show––”
“No. Not a chance in Hell––”
“He knows the schedule, Sonny. Wouldn’t you rather have a heads-up instead of not knowing which venue he’ll be at?”
Phoenix disappears up front. Probably trying to give the boys some semblance of privacy despite the fact that we’re packed into the RV like a bunch of sardines. Still, I appreciate his effort. And if I could climb out of this bed and down to the main area without causing a ruckus, I would disappear too. But I can’t. Instead, I burrow into Gibson’s chest, trying to make myself smaller. Like maybe I can vanish, and no one will remember I’m still very much present for this conversation, all while knowing I shouldn’t be.
“I don’t want him at any of the venues,” Gibson growls, his arm tightening around me.
“Sonny––”
“This is why I didn’t want him to have anything to do with the tour. It’s bullshit.”