Page 123 of Secondhand Smoke
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The dinner table was not set to perfection. There was no table runner, festive candles, or cornucopia decorations.
The stereo played Metallica rather than classical, and no one was dressed up in their Sunday best. No judging relatives, political discussions, or Macy’s parade.
It was antithetical to every Thanksgiving she’d ever attended before.
And it was the best she’d ever had.
They passed around the food in Tupperware and ate on plastic plates, and nothing looked perfect. She was the happiest she’d been in forever.
She was stuffed. Despite the chicken being slightly burnt on the outside, the inside was juicy and the stuffing flavorful. Dennis’s mom really did have the best recipes. Everything together was beautiful.
Their pie turned out nice; Nell used the weaving her mom had taught her, and it turned out pretty. Even though everyone was too full for a slice, they took one anyway.
She didn’t want the day to end.
She held onto Barrett’s hand as they cleared everything and moved the living room back into place, and just sat and talked and listened to music. She curled into his side, content with her head on his shoulder as he animatedly talked about the track they’d just recorded for their demo. Ron nursed a beer and just sat smiling on the side, observing them talk—just like her.
Everything was happy, and everything was warm, and everything was perfect.
She would snap a picture if she had a camera, hang it on the fridge, and label it as the best day of her life.
Thanksgiving, 1988.
48 - Barrett
This was the next step. The first show in the next step of their journey, and Barrett feltamazing.
Everything he’d ever wanted, and it was right there: a crowd shouting for more, a demo in the mail on a fast bus to LA, a potential record deal in their pockets, and his first love sitting just beyond the haze of the spotlights at her usual table.
Had life ever tasted this sweet on his tongue? Would he ever grow tired of its smooth transition as he swallowed it without issue?
No, he didn’t think he would. But he sure would like to.
“Thank you for coming! Have a good night!” Barrett called out into the blurry crowd, who responded in an equal mix of disappointment at its closure and excitement that they’d been there.
The band followed him off the stage toward backstage, and he could tell from the wistful grins on their faces that they felt the same way as him. They’d all been walking on this cloud since they’d gathered at the post office, kissed their demo, and whisked it away.
Of course, there was also the flip side of their highs: that they wouldn’t get it and their dreams would be crushed. But most of the time, they were giddy kids, squealing with excitement.
Toni patted Barrett’s shoulder as they walked through the hallway covered in marker graffiti. Their own signatures wereon the cement bricks somewhere. “Not bad, Barrett. I think you almost had them entertained. Better luck next time,” Toni teased.
Barrett rolled his eyes. “Maybe if you could stay on beat, they would stop yawning,” Barrett shot back, not bothering to hide his grin.
Tease all they want. They both knew they had a stranglehold on the audience here. Barrett even felt somewhatpowerfulon stage, blind to anything else.
Especially tonight.
People were already flooding in backstage—a few of the regulars, a few new faces eager to get their chance with the band. Barrett waved the others away and waited off to the side behind a curtain that hid the stage door, checking each person who walked by.
It took a few moments, as it usually did, but he finally saw Nell’s distinct hair, and when she made to walk past without noticing him, he reached out and pulled her in.
She gasped, her eyes wide as she looked up at him, then relaxed and stepped into his arms. He could tell she’d already had a drink or two; her grin was wide and relaxed.
“How is it possible that you get better every time?”
Barrett raised a brow, teasing, as he leaned so close their mouths were nearly touching. “Careful what you say, it will just go straight to my head, and I’ll become an egotistical maniac.”
