Page 52 of Mason Wilder
“Tea? In the bedroom?” Kendall let out a whimsical laugh. “How impolite. It’s fine. I’ll finish it in a minute.” She looped her arm through Tessa’s. “Do show me where this drum room is. I’m very excited to hear Mason play.”
A feeling of ease and comfort filled Tessa as she walked with Kendall through the apartment. This was nice. Kendall was nice. She couldn’t understand the unsettling reaction people had to Kendall’s return. It didn’t seem fair.
When they reached the doorway to the drum room, Mason was sitting behind his purple Tama kit, spinning a drumstick between his fingers. A smile practically split his face in half. “Come in and shut the door.”
He never looked happier than when he was behind his drums, and that’s when Tessa loved him the most. She shut the door and led Kendall to the farthest wall. “It’s loud. Do you want ear plugs or headphones?”
Another whimsical laugh left Kendall’s throat. “I spent all of my teenage years in bars listening to bands and loud music.” She touched the French braid at the back of her neck. “I was a bit of a groupie, I’m afraid.”
It was hard to believe that this woman, in a pressed Saint Laurent dress and Manolos, used to be a groupie. The boom of the drums startled the both of them. There was no warning once Mason sat behind his kit. One minute he was spinning a drumstick, the next he was making the floor shake and your ears rattle. Pride swelled in Tessa’s chest as she watched Mason play with total abandon and inhibition. His arms flew like mad. Sounds cascaded across the room and bounced back from the walls. The small enclosed area made the sound twice as loud, and Tessa pressed her hands to her ears and laughed.
Kendall covered her lips with the fingers of both hands, eyes wide with wonder. Her gaze never left Mason, and she started to tear up. Her hands went to her chest and she whispered, “He’s amazing.”
Tessa couldn’t hear Kendall over the noise, but she read the woman’s lips. The pride projecting from Kendall’s eyes, face, and stance, quite possibly outshone Tessa’s. It was comforting to witness, and made Tessa genuinely happy for Mason.
After about 15 minutes of Mason banging away as if he forgot they were in the room, he twirled his sticks like twin propellers, threw one up in the air and caught it.
Kendall stepped forward and clapped. “Brilliant! That was incredible, Mason! You possess so much talent it’s mind boggling.” She abruptly turned toward Tessa. “Can you sing something? I’d love to hear the two of you collaborate.”
There was no music, only the beat of Mason’s drum. She could easily go a cappella, but it felt awkward to be put on display like that. “Um. We have plenty of videos if you want to see Prodigy.”
Kendall’s hands flew to her cheeks. “That would be amazing!”
They moved to the living room, where Mason paired his laptop to the giant flat screen TV, and a video taken last year popped up. “That’s us rehearsing for the tour,” he said.
Kendall grew animated as she watched, bouncing her knee and bobbing her head. “This song is wonderfully rhythmic. Tessa, your voice is incredible. Such power and strength. And look at your brother. I’d swear I was looking at Tommy Blade.” She was disappointed when the song was over. “Do you have another we can watch?”
“Sure. These are all from the same rehearsal.” Mason was beaming as he clicked the next video. And the next. And the next.
“I’m enjoying this so much!” A lock of hair broke free from Kendall’s perfectly styled braid as she grooved to the beat, and she didn’t bother to smooth it back in place. She was carefree, and Tessa could envision a younger version of this woman enjoying local music.
The music in the video suddenly stopped. Something interrupted Prodigy, mid song. It was Papi, talking off camera. Lucas said something to Papi and then they both laughed.
“Was that . . .?” Kendall leaned forward, hands on her knees, and stared at the screen but didn’t finish her sentence.
“It was Angel,” Mason answered, matter-of-factly. “This is at the studio.”
“The studio?” Kendall slowly turned her head toward Mason. “Is this Angel’s home?”
“Yeah. That’s where we record.”
“I thought you would be contracted to Falcon Records.Does Angel own his own record label now?”
“No. We were all set to sign with my Grandpa Ron, but Lucas made us realize that we could do it on our own,” he explained. “So, we formed BGW Records. It’s an acronym for Blade-Garcia-Wilder.”
“You mean, you own your own label?”
“Yeah. Lucas is really smart. A friggin’ genius actually. He made us realize that we could swing it on our own and keep all—”
“Is that Angel again?” Kendall leaned toward the TV and scooted to the edge of the couch.
In the video, Prodigy had taken a break from playing and were talking among themselves. In the background, Angel was walking back and forth looking for something. Lucas called to him, and Angel turned to face the camera with a bright smile.
Kendall gasped. It was low and brief, but Tessa heard it. She continued to watch Kendall, poised on the edge of the couch, riveted on the TV screen, even after the video ended.
“Do you want to see another one?” Mason asked.
“Yes. Yes. Please.”
