Page 62 of Voice to Raise
Malik
Iworried about inviting Spencer into my house.
He barely batted an eyelash. Whether I’d adequately prepared him, whether he’d researched my family, or whether he simply assumed all rock stars lived lavish lifestyles, I couldn’t be certain.
We stopped to feed Moses—who dove into his food and paid us no mind—then headed to my place. On the way, though, nerves got the best of me. “See…this is what we should be doing—noise and chaos and fun. Like this afternoon.”
He covered his laugh with a clearing of his throat. He obviously thought he could fool me.
Not possible.
I was getting to know him. His quirks, his tells, and his emotions. Far more than I ever would’ve thought possible.
At a red light, I gazed over at him.
He smiled. “I half expected you to pick up a guitar and start jamming with them.”
“Ah, you know me well.” The light turned green. I checked both ways before advancing into the intersection. “I didn’t know those folks, and it would’ve been incredibly presumptuous of me to just hop on stage.”
“You do sort of have more talent than them.
I grinned. “Is that a compliment?”
He cleared his throat again—almost like telling the truth was painful. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
“And you’ll let me play the song for you?”
“Sure. I guess so. Although I think Bonnie and Blossom should hear it as well.”
“You don’t trust your judgement?”
“I’m not necessarily your target audience.”
I turned right on West 16thAvenue. Soon, I hung a left on Yew Street. Headed south, I tried not to pay attention to how many of the houses were so much bigger than most in Spencer’s neighborhood.
After heading down West 22ndAve, I cut down Valley Drive for a block and then headed into the back alley leading to my house.
Spencer’s silence unnerved me.Was I supposed to react to histarget audiencecomment? Was he implying he was too old? I was too young? Maybe too immature? And, most importantly, what’s he going to think of the house?I pressed the remote, and my garage door slid open. Once my SUV was safely inside, I cut the engine and pressed the remote. As always, I watched carefully until the door was down.
“Are you okay?”
Spencer’s words startled me, and I gazed over at him. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve sat here for the last couple of miles, watching you grip the steering wheel tighter and tighter. One would think you weren’t happy bringing me here. I can hop a bus home and—”
“No.” I nearly shouted the word, and it reverberated in the confined space of my vehicle. “Let me plug in the charger, and then we can head inside.”
He telegraphed his movement as he reached his left hand out to place on my right—still gripping the steering wheel.
Slowly I released my grip, then laced my fingers with his.He can feel my sweaty palms.“I come across as a guy who’s got his shit together. That’s…not always the case.”
“You don’t bring people here.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want them to get the wrong impression.”
“Well, let’s lay our cards on the table—what impression are you wanting to give me?”
His words caught me off guard. What was my purpose for bringing him here? I wasn’t certain. Still, I owed him some kind of an explanation. “Maybe I want to sing you the song in the recording studio?”
