Page 79 of Deliverance

“I’ll stop by in a couple of weeks.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’m sure you will. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

On the way back to Hollywood, I get stuck in traffic, and by the time the Uber finally drops me off in front of my apartment building, it’s dinnertime and I’m dreaming about a juicy sandwich and a large order of crispy fries with ranch dressing.

“Ms. Kadence!” the security guard calls my name as I rush through the lobby toward the bank of the elevators. “There’s a delivery for you.”

Surprised, I come to a halt and then carefully approach the reception desk. “Hey, Bidal. How are you?”

“I’m good.” He picks up the flower arrangement that’s sitting on the edge of the return and sets it in front of me, face proud and curious.

“Is that the delivery?”

The security guard nods.

I drop my bag to the floor and sift through the bunches of roses and lilies, searching for a card, but there isn’t one. Weird. “Any messages?” I return my gaze to Bidal, wondering who could have sent them. Tina, Santiago, and my mother are out of the question.

Zander is the only person that makes sense. Maybe it’s his way of telling me that my silence won’t stop him. Maybe he feels guilty. Or maybe his publicist told him to do it.

The security guard offers an apologetic smile. “No, ma’am.”

“You sure?” My fingers play with the soft petals.

“Yes.”

“Hmmm. Did you by any chance see who delivered them?

“One of those courier kids.”

“Thank you.” I hoist the bag back on my shoulder, set the flowers into the crook of my arm, and head to the elevator.

“Have a good evening, Ms. Kadence.”

“You too, Bidal. And, please, call me Drew.

14 Zander

Leo doesn’t showup at the studio for two days.

It’s just me, Julian, and Luca with his team. Naturally, it wouldn’t bother me much since all the instruments can be recorded separately and then pieced together later on, but the demos for the last two tracks Leo promised me are still a myth and I’m starting to worry.

Toby pops in every afternoon to listen to the new material and toss around some ideas. Nothing solid. Just two guys trying to make sure everything sounds the way it should.

I’m a hired guy, anyway. My job is drums. Not writing actual songs.

I did my share of writing during the final years of The Deviant. Not counting the last album, of course. But before that, all keyboard parts fell to me. Along with a whole lot of other tasks.

Do I miss it? Yes. Do I want to go back in time and relive those moments? Yes. Am I going to sulk over the fact that I can’t? Fuck, no.

The one thing I’ve learned from Chance’s death is that there’s only now, and living it is as important as remembering the past.

Don’t forget, but don’t forget to move on too.

Sadly, I’m failing horribly in following my own advice in regards to Drew.

---