Page 10 of Patio Lanterns

“The whole shit-show went viral in less than an hour,” she said. “And that was the last gig we played. By the next morning, we’d been dropped from the festival circuit, and everyone in the band went their separate ways.”

“Why the hell should you or anyone put up with that shit? Can’t you kick Parker out of the band?”

“No, because there is no band without Parker. Parker started the Dawn Cherries. Parker IS the Dawn Cherries.”

“Okay then, why don’t you jump ship?” he asked, collecting their plates from the table and bringing them to the grill. “Surely there are other bands out there who could use a talented merch queen.”

“Believe me, I’ve thought about it many, many times. I was especially close to leaving after Parker and I broke up. You can imagine what it’s like having to tour together after that.”

Rick’s mind leapt to all sorts of ways a self-centred rock star might numb the pain of heartbreak—groupies, drugs, and whatever vices their lifestyle afforded them. For Robin to have to endure watching that unfold while nursing her own broken heart must’ve been torture. She deserved so much better. It made Rick feel sad for her, and at the same time, made him want to throttle Parker. Both for putting Robin through the wringer and for being stupid enough to let such a great girl slip away.

“Forgive me, but I can’t understand why you’d stick around after you two broke up.”

“This sounds awful, but I think it’s because I love my job far more than I ever loved Parker,” she said with a shrug. “It gives me a sense of purpose and fulfillment like I’ve never had before. So I couldn’t bear to walk away from it after we broke up, although I have seriously considered it. Especially when Parker had a meltdown after my father died, and I needed a couple weeks off.” Robin rolled her eyes. “It’s always about fucking Parker.”

Rick shook his head in disbelief. “And your job is worth putting up with that bullshit?”

“Part of me knows I can do more with my life. Maybe someday I will. But I’ve already invested six, almost seven years into this band. We’re family. Plus, we’re so close to our big break, I can taste it,” she said. “That is, if there still is a band and Parker hasn’t completely torpedoed any chance we had to succeed.”

While Rick admired Robin’s devotion, there had to be more to it. What kind of hold did Parker still have on her? Was she still in love with that toxic asshole? A strange mix of jealousy and protectiveness swirled inside him as he took the steaks off the grill.

Rick brought their plates to the table, setting them down directly across from one another. Robin dispensed the salad between them. When she’d finished, he pulled out her chair for her.

“Wow,” she said, smiling up at him as she sat down. “So fancy.”

She considered basic etiquette fancy? Maybe Robin just wasn’t used to being treated well. Either way, it pleased him to impress her, and he was still smiling to himself as he took his own seat.

Mutt hedged his bets and sat halfway between them, looking expectantly from one side of the table to the other.

“Look Robin, about Parker. I know you don’t need my advice, but…”

“Actually, I’d welcome it,” she said, cutting into her steak and feeding Mutt first. “Feel free to say whatever’s on your mind.”

“Don’t waste your loyalty on anyone unworthy of your allegiance,” he said. “If they don’t appreciate what you bring to the table, then let them eat alone.”

Robin dropped her knife. “That’s fucking brilliant, you know.”

“I’ve read a lot of self-help books,” he said jokingly, spearing at his salad. “It’s also because I also unfortunately know a thing or two about misspent loyalty.”

“Well, you know what they say, misery loves company,” she reminded him. “Might make me feel better to hear you’ve experienced something similar.”

Although a couple of years had passed, Rick had avoided having to revisit that painful chapter of his life. But, if Robin was able to benefit from his past mistakes, he figured now was as good a time as any to open up about it.

“Like I said, after I retired from football, I started my own business. A year or so in, I asked a good friend to partner with me and help take things to the next level,” he recalled, keeping his eyes trained on his steak as he sawed off a tender piece. “We went from being a two-man startup to a publicly traded company, and because of that, started receiving some attractive offers to sell. My partner wanted us to consider it, but I couldn’t bring myself to sell the business I’d built from the ground up.”

“Because you’d invested so much of yourself in it,” Robin acknowledged.

Rick finally lifted his eyes to hers and nodded. “Then one day I walked in, and he’d had a buy-out agreement drawn up. My so-called friend went behind my back and presented an offer to our board to secure approval, then pushed me out of my own company to get it done.” Just saying the words out loud made the blood thunder in his ears.

“What a fucking chode,” she hissed. “Isn’t that kind of against the law?”

“If we’d had a partnership contract, maybe there’d be some legal recourse, but we didn’t,” he said. “Looking back now, it was so obviously stupid and naïve of me, but I genuinely believed shaking hands with a friend I thought of like a brother was the only contract we’d ever need. I never imagined he’d betray me after being in business for twenty fucking years.”

“Jesus, Rick,” she wheezed. “I’m so sorry.”

He chugged several gulps of beer, washing back the bitterness that had burbled up as he spoke. While his rage had subsided over time, years of built-up resentment still caused his chest to burn and temples to throb.

“All I’m saying is that I’ve been there,” he said. “When you invest your heart and soul into something, you trust that it’ll all work out. You want to believe more than anything that if you just give it your all, your investment will grow and continue bringing value to your life.” He poked at the food on his plate. “Sadly, that is not always the case.”

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