Page 30 of My Favorite Mistake

“Well, I’ve been coming to your shows for a few weeks now.” Connor tugged at the thighs of his jeans and then rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward as if to edge Liza out of his peripheral vision. “I like your set. And I mean that as a fan of real New Orleans music. You’re right up there with our local legends. I’m talking Kermit Ruffins. I’m talking Irvin Mayfield. I’m talking Trombone Shorty, and Jason Marsalis, and Ivan Neville. All the new sons of New Orleans who’ve been carrying on our musical heritage.”

“Aw man.” Oscar laughed heartily as he slapped his knee and wiped his neck again. “You’re generous, my brother. Putting my name with all them is blasphemy.”

“It ain’t though.” Connor’s eyebrows climbed high on his forehead as he offered an enthusiastic grin. “You’ve got that same magnetism that brings people together and puts ‘em on their feet. Your music makes people feel alive, and they leave your shows wanting to take that feeling with them.” He wagged his index finger at the porch. “How many times has someone come up to you after a show asking if you had a CD they could buy, or if you were on iTunes or some shit?”

Oscar laughed again. “Yeah, yeah. They like that iTunes, don’t they?”

“Yeah, they do.” Connor clasped his hands together. “And you’ve got a timeless sound. I think if you were able to offer them a way to take your music home, you could do pretty friggin’ well.”

Oscar stretched his lips into a subtle grimace as he sucked in some air. “I mean.” He drummed his knees with a quick staccato and then gestured into the space in front of him with an open palm. “That sounds nice and all, but it’s pipe dreams. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve thought about it. Trying to make a CD or something and trying to make money from it. It’s just a lot of man-hours up front, and since I do shift work, time is money for me.” He raised his hand at the battered house. “I ain’t got no money. So I gotta trade my time for it.”

“We’re prepared to take care of the money.” Connor pressed his hand to his chest. “I’ve been talking to our founder, Jimmy Hall, about you for weeks. We believe you’ve got something special. We’d really like you to consider coming on board with us.”

Oscar pursed his lips as he nodded slowly, clearly attempting to conceal his smile and restrain his enthusiasm. He drummed his lap again and then glanced at the house, seemingly peering in the window. After a beat, he patted the handkerchief against his nose and nodded.

“Man,” he said with another small laugh and a subtle crack in his voice. “My mama’s somewhere smiling right now.”

Connor nodded back. “I bet she is.”

The pang assaulted Liza’s chest again. “How long has she been gone?” she asked gently.

“Oh man.” Oscar sucked in a breath and blew it out in a puff of air. “I lost her in K.”

Kwas Katrina. That information was part of the warning Connor had offered all those years ago when he told Liza not to bring up the hurricane. The people of New Orleans who had lived through it simply referred to the storm by its first initial.

“How old were you in the storm?” Liza asked, still gentle and abundantly aware of Connor cutting a scorching glance at her. She ignored him.

“I was eight.” Oscar’s voice cracked again, and he cleared his throat as he patted his face. “My big brother drowned in the attic, and my mama managed to drag me up to the roof. We were on the roof for four days with no food or water. She died of exposure up there.” He shook his head and huffed. “It still blows my mind. This was our home. This was our neighborhood. It wasn’t the nicest place in the world, but it was a good place. We had everything we needed, and then in less than a day, this house and this neighborhood became a prison where we were bled dry by the elements.”

Oscar pointed at the roof and then dragged his index finger down to the front door. “This place is a fuckin’ mess. I done what I could over the years to clean it up, and it’s still a damn health hazard, but it’smyhealth hazard. Y’know? I was in foster care for ten years, and as soon as I came of age, I came back here. This is my home. My family lived here. It’s trashed to hell and back, but it’s all I got left of my mother and brother. My dad’s been gone since before I was born. So I had nobody, nowhere else I really wanted to go, and nothing to do but play. I still got nobody now. But I got music.”

“Yeah you right.” Connor’s voice held a small crack, and he coughed as he stood up. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and slipped a card out of it. “If you need to think about everything for a minute, take your time. Then come on by, and we’ll sign paperwork and get started.” He patted his pockets and then held out his hand to Liza. “You got a pen?”

She reached into her purse, pulled one out, and handed it to him. He scribbled something on the back of the card and then handed it to Oscar.

“That’s the advance we’re prepared to offer, and it’s totally negotiable,” Connor said.

Negotiableclearly meantthere’s plenty more where that came from, so just ask.That made Liza feel a twinge of guilt for initially laughing at Brennan’s status as a trust fund baby.

Oscar took the card, his eyes bugging as he glanced at it. He dropped his head and pealed with laughter. “Wellshit. I guess y’all are serious.”

Liza gave him a warm smile. “We are.”

Oscar’s laughter lengthened until it was appended by a quiet sob. “Damn.” He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and hung his head between his knees. “Where the hell is my mama right now?”

The urge to weep lurched in Liza’s chest. In reflex, she left her chair to crouch in front of Oscar and clasp his forearms. “She’s here, and she isso proud. You know she is.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Oscar uttered another restrained sob. “Yes, ma’am, she is.”

“You call me Liza.” She nodded at Connor. “That’s Connor. The man in charge is Jimmy. And he sees us as a family, so you see us that way, too.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Oscar cleared his throat and patted his nose with the handkerchief. “I mean Liza.” He lifted his head and grinned widely, eyes brimming, and Liza’s aching heart threatened to fold in on itself.

Miraculously, she managed to hold herself together as she stood. She knew tears were imminent, and that she needed to excuse herself to the seclusion of the car while Connor finished up.

“Take your time,” Liza said to Connor, and then stepped off the porch and onto the broken concrete path.

Only one other time in her life had she been gripped with such a sense of purpose. She held her hand against her lower abdomen, feeling the dull ache of longing and loss of so many things, and purposed herself that from there on out she would dedicate all her energy and time to making Oscar so successful he’d never have to worry about money or being alone ever again.

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