Page 57 of Songbird: Black Kite
“Harry, I bet you have all the ladies lining up for you. I’ll have to speak to the team about increasing security to keep the clingers away.”
She snorted, reaching for another plate from the cupboard and dishing a second helping of the incredible meal she’d prepared. Chicken and yellow squash, I thought, with a salad of micro greens. Harry was still trying to get me to eat my veggies.
“Please. You’re the one with the crazies after you. Women throwing themselves at you left and right. Climbing fences and breaking and entering.”
“That was one time,” I said, remembering the incident. “And she never made it inside the actual house.”
“No,” Harry agreed, settling down beside me. “Just far enough for me to find her topless on one of the pool chairs.” She laughed and shook her head. “You weren’t even in the state at the time. The girl should have done some research before putting all that effort in.”
I laughed with her, digging in to the dinner happily. We ate in silence for a few minutes, my mind working over the question I wanted to ask before finally nutting up and actually asking it.
“Harry? Do you think I’ve done much good with my life?”
She frowned, her mouth pulled down at the corners as she studied me.
“What on earth would make you ask a thing like that?” she said, setting down her fork.
“I’ve just been thinking lately,” I replied with a shrug that was more casual than I felt. “I spent over two decades of my life making music and touring the world. I’ve played shows on six continents, sold out arenas over and over, and broken every sales record they could come up with.”
Harry smiled indulgently.
“That you have, my boy. And there’s none better.”
Setting my fork down, I leaned back in my chair, contemplating.
“But, is any of thatgood? Like, does that matter to anyone at all? What difference have I made in the world, really? My music doesn’t cure cancer. I can’t build a house or save a life. I’m just a singer. What do some songs matter in the big picture, you know?”
“Where is this coming from, Hawk?” she asked, and I shook my head.
“I don’t know, Harry. I’ve just been thinking, I guess. All this fame, all this money, and what have I done with my fuckin’ life?”
“Hawk Jameson. You stop this right now.” Picking up her napkin, Harriette wiped delicately at her mouth like the elegant lady she was before rounding on me with another of her serious frowns. “You matter. You matter to me, to Alex and Gavin. Those boys love you with everything they have.” I nodded, knowing she was right, but still feeling sullen. “And as for the world, well. I’ve seen the crowds at your shows. I’ve watched grown men fall down with sheer excitement when they are in the same room as you. You may think you’re just a singer, but your words have power. The lyrics you write, the message you send to your fans, they hear it. They feel it deep in their souls. You speak to people in a way that no one else can. You reach out to people through your music, sometimes when they need it the most.”
Standing, Harry came to me, her hands cradling my face as she lifted it to hers.
“I know what you did for your mother, Hawk. What you did for that neighborhood.”
“Harry,” I rasped out, not wanting to talk about it. I didn’t think anyone knew; everything I’d done had been in secret, my money manager and I working hard to hide everything behind shell corporations and numbered bank accounts.
Anything I could do to help my mom, I was gonna do it.
I thought back to that day, shortly after we’d left on our first multi-state tour, when I’d gotten the call telling me that my mom had been attacked, jumped, and beaten less than a block from her house.
I’d rushed home, wanting to be by her side and help her recover, but the damage had been done. She was terrified to leave her own home, terrified to even stand in front of a window most days. We tried therapy and medication and anything else the specialists recommended, but none of it really helped relieve her fears.
So, I did what I could to help her. Every time a check landed in my bank account, I purchased another house in that neighborhood, renovating it and covertly renting it out to a single mom in need.
Within five years, I’d transformed the entire community, building parks and green spaces, hiring artists to paint murals over the graffiti, anything I could do to protect the families that lived under my watch.
If my mom couldn’t leave her home, I was at least gonna make damn sure she was safe in it.
But in all the years I’d been doing it, Harry had never let on that she was aware.
“You always think you can get things by me when I’m not looking, but I am always looking, son. And I’m looking now. I see you, Hawk. I see all that you are and all that you can be.” Smiling, she moved the loose hairs off my forehead, smoothing them back the way a mother would do. “I love you like you’re my own, Hawk. You are beautiful inside and out. But you stumble like any other man. The difference is, you’ve always picked yourself up again.” Pressing a kiss to my forehead, she moved back to her seat and resumed her meal. “If you’re looking for something to give your life new meaning, then fine. But don’t think that the things you’ve done so far are without merit. You are a special man, Hawk. It’s time that you realized that.”
When the meal was finished, I cleaned up the kitchen, sending Harry back to her wing with a hug.
She’d given me some things to think about, that was for sure, things I’d never really bothered considering before. I wandered back to the study, picking up one of the letters I’d been looking at earlier. It didn’t have any feathers on the outside, so it wasn’t one of Wren’s, but I opened it just the same.
