Page 78 of Puck Daddies
Back at Bea’s, Meg’s team helps with the candles, labeling and boxing mostly. I’ve made hundreds, and each is spoken for. It feels good to contribute, especially with something I made with my own hands.
We load the truck with the first batch going to the shipping store. I drive with Oliver, and he’s curious. “You good?”
“Better. It felt good to teach the kid. He listened.”
“That’s the job. Teach the next one to do it right. Can’t think of a better teacher.”
That night, Meg and I sit on the couch with her feet under my thigh. We sort candle receipts while the game plays on mute. She squeezes my knee. “Tell me about your day.”
“It was good.” I tell her about Travis and the PSA comments and about Mrs. Kline. Nothing exciting. But every part feels like a step in a new direction.
She smiles. “I’m proud of you.”
“I know. That means everything, Meg.”
She blushes and cuddles up to me. “This is how I like ending my days sometimes. Maybe that’s boring, but?—”
“Not to me. This is perfect.”
I post once more before bed. A photo of the collab label and a short line:Thank you for selling this out twice. Every penny goes to keeping Bea’s alive. We see you.
By the end of the week, the PSA has a lot of views. The team pushes local resources again. Three fans stop me in the concourse to say they made an appointment because it was mesaying it. One guy tells me his dad died mad and he doesn’t want to. I tell him good job and keep going.
Two days later, I sit in a group session because Dr. Keane wants me to try. Six chairs in a circle. A mechanic who lost a job after throwing a wrench. A teacher who yells at her kids and hates it. A nurse who shuts down until she explodes. I say my name and what I did. No one flinches. We talk about the half second before the bad choice. We practice the four-count breath. The counselor says anger is a signal, not a plan.
I leave with homework—write an apology to myself. It’s awkward as shit, but I get the gist and do it anyway. I keep going.
There are still comments that suck. There are still fans who want me to break something for their amusement. There’s still a court hearing coming. Peace is not a thing I can declare and then own. It’s a path to relief. I’m on it willingly.
I breathe in for four, hold for two, and let it out for six. I do it again. The pulse in my jaw eases. My hands stop buzzing.
I am not fixed.
But I am better than I was last week. I can live with that.
27
ROCCO
I standin the middle of Bea’s before opening and clap once. The sound comes back clean. Wood tables, brick wall, glass, the bee painting, the honeycomb tile. The sight of so many good times. Advice from Aunt Bea. Lattes late into the night. Stolen kisses in the office. Now, the coffee shop will play host to a new adventure. I hope.
I hum a low A and walk the line by the windows. The note sits where it should. This room will record. The video that brought Siena to me proves it, but I did the run-through just to make sure I won’t be talking out of my ass to her.
I call Siena from the corner table by the outlet. She picks up on the second ring. “Tell me good news.”
“I have a new plan,” I begin. “Record live at Bea’s.”
She pauses. “What’s the angle?”
“We do it after hours. Small audience. Close mics and room mics. The sound here is perfect. It helps the shop by putting more eyes on it, and the room fits my voice. That was the video you saw—the one that made you contact me. It happenedhere.Not New York. This is where my soul is. This is where my voice is. It’s the right place for a debut EP.”
She doesn’t answer right away. “Talk me through logistics.”
“Set the piano by the hex wall. We kill every loud appliance. We bring in baffles and a mobile rig. Fifty chairs. We film some B-roll, for a short doc with information about the coffee shop. That’ll get more interest here and provide context as to why we’re filming here. We keep the cameras quiet and out of sight. We cap press at two seats. Ticket proceeds go to the legal fund. You get a community story and a clean baritone in a room that likes to breathe in the wood. The sound quality is immaculate, Siena. It’ll work.”
“I like it. The label will ask about noise ordinances and insurance.”
“I’ll get permits and anything else we need. We have good neighbors. We end by ten, a hard finish to keep on the right terms with them.”
