Page 105 of Red Mountain Burning
“It’s shocking,” Brooks said. “He told me the other day that he didn’t have any imaginary friends anymore. He says he’s too old.”
“I know. How sad it that? Growing up is just the worst.”
Brooks chuckled from his core. “It sure can be.” He asked about Wyatt, and Abby shared a few new photos.
“What’s new at your house?” she asked, shoving the phone back into her pocket. “You and Adriana doing well?”
“Yeah, we’re good. Everybody’s good.”
“You never were a good liar, Brooks. What’s going on?”
Brooks had an urge to tell her everything. It would be nice to tell someone what he’d been going through. “I think she’s giving up on going to Florida, but it’s been a tough road. She’s still having nightmares.”
Abby nodded. “She’s still mad at your mom too, I gather?”
“Probably. We don’t talk about it.”
Abby looked at him, almost into him. “I hope she realizes what she has. You deserve to be loved.”
“I appreciate that.” His little detour was over, and he found himself thinking of Carmen and his future with Lacoda again. “Anyway, good chatting. I really do want to spend more time with you guys. Sing Wyatt the ‘Beans, Beans, the Musical Fruit’ song for me.”
She smiled beautifully. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
Offering a wave, he said, “You gotta teach ’em early, you know?”
He watched her walk back into the Foresters’ house, thinking about what would have happened if he’d forgiven her for sleeping with Carmen. They might have been good together.
Pivoting, he headed into Jake’s man cave. Sounds poured out when he passed through the hall and opened the thick door into the studio. Jake was standing on an oriental rug beside a drum set with a Les Paul in his hands. The wall behind him displayed a row of black-and-white photographs taken of his band, Folkwhore, performing during their prime. Jake used to have longer hair back then and would often take the stage shirtless.
Though Brooks had not seen many movies growing up, and he’d certainly not seen any concerts, music had saved his life more than once. He remembered breaking into a car and stealing a portable CD player and book of CDs full of Seattle grunge music shortly after he’d run away from his last foster home. That’s when he’d discovered Folkwhore for the first time, and it was always funny to wonder what that young teenage Brooks would have said if someone had told him he’d grow grapes with the lead singer one day.
Jake hadn’t heard Brooks come in and was working through a Grateful Dead tune.
“Hey!” Brooks yelled.
Jake spun around and turned the volume knob down on the guitar. The room went silent. “What’s going on?” He rested his hands on the guitar.
“You a Deadhead now?” Brooks asked. “Was that Jerry Garcia on your Les Paul?”
“He did play a Les Paul back in the day, before he went custom. I’ve been listening to them more and more lately. Jasper and I were toying with a tune. The Dead is like natural wine. They were so tuned in. Even when they were singing out of tune, they were more in tune than any other band of their era. I caught a few shows years ago and really liked what I heard, but as I get older, they’re making more sense. Jerry was brilliant. Anyway, what’s going on?”
Brooks knew how impossible it was to have a serious conversation with Jake while he held his guitar and didn’t want to relive the experience as they talked about his wife. “You might want to put your guitar down for this one.”
Jake pulled the Les Paul off his shoulder and set it down in the rack next to six other guitars. “You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”
Brooks crossed his arms. “I’m not sure.”
Jake pointed toward the other side of the studio, past the pool table to the bar. “Why don’t we sit down?”
Brooks sat on a red stool and swiveled it to face the man who’d given him a real shot years ago. Though he had the credentials of being Otis’s understudy, Brooks had nothing else on his resume. Jake had trusted Otis’s word and given Brooks a job he never could have imagined landing.
“This isn’t a conversation I want to have, Jake. But I don’t have a choice.”
His boss nodded, and Brooks could tell he knew what was coming.
“It’s Carmen,” Brooks said.
“Yeah, I know.”
