Page 122 of August Lane
“I’m a smart investor with good credit. Oh, and you’re fired.” She wiggled her fingers toward the door. “Go be famous.”
Mavis was just like Luke, convinced that the concert was the key to her future. Everyone was acting like her fate had been sealed when they placed her name on Jojo’s billboard. But just last week, it had been Luke’s name. His fate. Which meant it wasn’t destiny at all, just a publicity stunt that people were paying thousands to witness in person. That duet had become a glorified audition to be crowned the new Black voice of country.
Mavis started to stand, but August stopped her with a question. “What you said before about people taking and never giving? Do you think my mother does that?”
Mavis sat back down. “I think she survived terrible things and did the best she could.” She paused. “I also think people can only give what they have. Some of us don’t have much.”
Over the next week, Luke settled into a comfortable routine. Mornings were for taking care of August, ensuring she had plenty of coffee and a good breakfast before she went to rehearsals. Once she was gone, he’d get a workout in and tackle one of his projects around the house. Late afternoon, he’d go to Delta Blue and pitch in wherever Silas needed him. At night, when August returned, they’d have dinner, make music, and then tangle up in each other until their bodies gave out from exhaustion. Then he’d wake up the next morning and do it all again.
He was surprised at how easy it was. In Memphis, he’d had to drag himself out of bed to face the day. Now he was up at sunrise, devouring every minute like crumbs of the best meal he’d ever tasted. He had love. Sobriety. Work that made him feel like he’d accomplished something. If someone told him this was it, this was his peak and the rest was adownhill slide, he’d be okay with that. How steep could it be? Ava Randall had raised him. He’d cut his teeth on ravines.
Right now, it was Silas’s downhill slide that had him worried. Although selling King’s Kitchen to Mavis Reed provided some needed cash flow, most of it would go to unpaid bills. If things kept going the way they were, Delta Blue would be gone by the end of the year.
“How’s it looking?” Silas joined him in his office and deposited a ream of printer paper on the floor.
Luke gestured at the Excel sheet he’d created against Silas’s will. “About as you’d expect. Sales would normally be up this close to the festival. The protests are killing us.”
Silas rubbed his neck. “Maybe I should call it. Sell this place to them boys in Shreveport looking to expand.”
“August would kill you.”
Silas raised an eyebrow. “She may not be around to have a say.”
Luke grabbed another bill and ripped it open with more force than necessary. Silas watched him and said, “You okay over there?”
“You should call the electric company and ask for an extension.”
“You could go with her.”
“As her groupie?”
“As whatever she wants you to be.”
Luke had already thought about what Silas was proposing. Even if they could make it work for a while, being useless would get to him. And he knew exactly where that road ended. On the floor of some bar.
“I’d rather stay here,” Luke said. “She’ll come home when she’s not on the road.”
Silas sucked his teeth. “Cause you two being apart worked so well before?”
He had a brief silent standoff with Silas that ended when Bill Parnell walked through the door. It was the first time Luke had seen him since the night he left town. Bill’s eyes still sparkled like he’d just heard a funny story and was dying to share it with you. He still stood bowlegged, with his hands on his hips, like an old-school cowboy. Like all of them, Bill was older and grayer, but he wore it like a costume. Underneath, he was the same.
“Mornin’,” Bill said, smiling at Luke. “Little Jason. Always forget how much you look like him until I set eyes on you. Been a while.”
Luke approached him and extended a hand. Bill held on longer than necessary, staring into his eyes, like he was greeting the friend he had lost as well.
“I should have reached out,” Luke said.
Bill laughed. “Nobody round here reaches out to me unless there’s trouble.”
“No, I mean, I never thanked you for what you did.” A memory of Don’s face as he called the cops rose in Luke’s mind. Ava’s boyfriend had thrived on spite and vengeance. “You probably saved my life.”
“Jason did the same for me,” Bill said. “Always meant to tell you that story, but it’s kind of long and embarrassing, so I try to keep the details to myself. Never streak for a political cause, son. Won’t change a single vote. Everyone’ll just point and laugh at your little ding-a-ling. Ain’t worth it.”
Silas snorted. “Not gonna rest until we’re all traumatized by that image, are you?”
“Themoralof the story is that most mistakes, not all mind you, but most, are like footprints. That’s what your daddy told me when he brought me my pants. We all make them. But they’re not permanent. They don’t have to define who we are.” Bill smiled. “That man was a damn good poet.”
“He was,” Luke said, thinking of the book Ava threw out. He could never find another copy in print.
