Page 19 of Feuds and Interludes
Bruce chuckled. “We definitely trashed that place back in nineteen-seventy.”
The two of them told hilarious tales of debauchery while I tried to focus on the road.
“I’m glad you kept the house here,” Pops said as we pulled into the driveway of a massive mansion. “John loved this place.”
“He did. We both did. It’s too big for me, really, but with Boone here, it’s nice. We both have our space.”
I had to bite my cheek.He lives with his grandma?I was close with Pops, but we both had our own condos a few blocks away from each other.
Boone stood and tried the door handle, getting a little frustrated when it didn’t work.
“Oh, hang on. It only opens from the outside.”
I put the van in park and got out, trotted around the backside, and opened the door, coming face-to-face with a flustered Boone. He hopped down and I got a whiff of his…body wash? He smelled like gummy bears, or taffy. I wanted to grab him and bring him back in close, he smelled that good. Instead, I reached for Vera Jean’s door and held out a hand to help her down.
“It’s kind of a high step.”
“I’ve got her,” Boone said, taking her other hand.
Vera stood between us, laughing at our overenthusiastic chivalry. I would have been flustered, but I was caught in Boone’s gravitational pull and I couldn’t stop staring at him.
“Boys, this was nice. Bruce? Walk me up?” She looked between us with a curious expression, and then accepted Pops’s hand.
Boone and I were left standing. Staring. Though what he was thinking, I had no idea. He kind of looked at me like I was an alien, when he was the one who’d shocked me.
“Thank you. I know it’s a pain to come all the way out here. I can’t believe it. I left the damn car on when I went over to your van. I wasn’t even thinking.”
“I think I’d always be nervous about running out of battery with an electric car.”
He shrugged and looked toward our grandparents getting cozy on the porch.
“They seem happy,” he said, sounding anything but.
“For now,” I scoffed.
He pinned me with his gaze once more. “I hope you’ll give Gran the benefit of the doubt. She’s not going to trounce all over your pops, no matter what you think of us.”
“I don’t think?—”
“See you around, I guess,” he muttered, shaking his head as he stormed off toward the house. Instead of going in the front door, he punched in a code on the garage and the door opened, revealing John Boone’s classic ’70s Corvette—the one he was photographed with for his solo album cover—and a late-model Cadillac, which was probably Vera Jean’s.
I didn’t know what to say. Boone was so different when it was just us. He seemed almost…insecure. Like he worried what I thought about him. Since when? He had everything. Ifoughtfor everything. But for now, we were united in our roles as doting grandsons.
We’d have to support our grandparents through this reunion, whatever we felt about each other. Whatever the outcome.
Eight
Boone
“Just one more time, you guys.” It was our last band practice before we left for Portland to record, and I just wanted to work out this one last song. It was our practice to have solid songs together before going into the studio, and Brandon, Annie and I were a tight songwriting team.
“Boone, you need to rest your voice, man.”
Brandon and Annie had been treating me with kid gloves lately and though I knew they were right to be concerned, it drove me nuts.
“I’m fine,” I said, though I knew I wasn’t. This fucking physical limitation crap I’d been dealing with since my diagnosis was bullshit. It had only been a few months, and I was already sick and tired of my body getting in the way of my work.The doctors had told me it might take some time to get things under control, but despite diet and exercise changes, I was still struggling with insomnia and prone to super low dips in my blood sugar. I was on the verge of throwing a massive tantrum when Annie stepped closer.
“You say that,” Annie said, resting a hand on the neck of my guitar, “but you’ve been pushing yourself so hard. I’m worried about you.”
