Page 58 of Feuds and Interludes
“Dean and the guys quit. Tucker’s going to play drums for a pop star, and Dean and Drew are going to attempt to recapture their emo youth playing pop punk.”
“Jesus Almighty,” Bruce breathed. “Can’t say I saw that coming. You talk to Jeff?”
“Actually, I didn’t. My new manager Audra let him know his services were no longer needed, and Slade fired him. Seems I walked into a bit of a minefield and Jeff knew about it, but it’s all good. I’m working with Lydia, trying to decide which direction I want to go. I’ve got to set up an appointment with the label to discuss my future with them. In the meantime…” I smiled atBoone, who’d gone from fake smiling to lost puppy in the span of a few moments. I nudged his foot under the table, and he snapped out of it. “I’ve enlisted Boone and the twins to play Rocktoberfest with me. Instead of a Wicked Soul set, we thought we’d play the old tunes. You know, California, Brothers… What do you think?”
“Oh, Shane, that’s wonderful!” Vera Jean said. “I’d love for you two to make music together. And that brings us to the other thing we wanted to discuss with you. The Collins Foundation benefit. We’d like you both to perform, of course, but we’ve lined up Blackened to be the house band this year, and we’re going to invite a bunch of old friends to perform with them. We’ve already asked Lydia, Morrison, and Leland, and we’re going to ask Aldous Archer and Ozzy if he’s feeling up to it. Bruce is going to organize the rehearsals, and I’ll handle the invites and the usual details. It’ll be an extra-special occasion.” Vera Jean put her hands on the table, and Bruce took them in his.
“It’ll be our engagement party,” he said softly.
I watched Boone’s face morph into horror as he noticed the giant rock on Vera Jean’s ring finger.
“Congratulations,” I said, but my inflection was off, and it sounded as if I was asking if the congratulations were merited rather than bestowing it on the happy couple.
The server appeared just then with a basket of bread and asked for our drink orders. I watched Boone push his hair back with a shaky hand.
“Actually, yeah, can we get a couple of cranberry juices and can you bring out an appetizer of, what, uh…” I looked down at the menu. “Bring us some mozzarella sticks and wings, please? As soon as you can?”
Boone had gone as white as the tablecloth, and Vera Jean patted his arm.
“Boone?” she asked quietly.
“I’m…congratulations.” He gave her a closed-lipped smile.
She nodded and turned back to Pops. He gazed into her eyes and they kissed once more.
“I’ll be right back,” Boone muttered, and he stood from the booth. He caught himself on the edge of it to break his fall and then stumbled down the hallway to the restroom.
Vera Jean’s gaze followed him and for a moment it looked as if she thought to follow him.
“I’m going to go too. It was a long drive out here.”
She opened her mouth to speak and then smiled at me knowingly before turning to smile at Pops.
I trotted after Boone and found him just inside the men’s room, leaning against the wall and trying to get his breathing under control.
“Babe,” I whispered. I locked the door behind us and took him in my arms. “How much of this is your blood sugar and how much is from those fucking bombs they just dropped?”
He stepped back and held up his phone. His glucose monitor showed him at a dangerously low level.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I said, brushing his hair away from his now sweaty face. “We’re going to go out there and you’re going to eat. Once we get a little food in you, you should feel a little better, but if not, you just say the word and we’ll go, okay? I’ll take you back and?—”
“I swear, Shane, I’m not doing this on purpose. I tried…it was a shock, but I swear I didn’t mean to make a scene. I’m sorry.”
Tears poured down his face as his whole body started to shake. He hugged himself and started to slide down the wall, but I caught him.
“Do you need to go to the hospital? This is bad, babe.”
“No, please, just help me get it together.Please, Shane.”
“It’s going to be okay, everything’s going to be okay. Just breathe with me, baby. Just breathe.” I held him against me, wanting to scream from the helplessness.
There was a knock on the door.
“Mr. Butler? It’s your server. Ms. Collins said you might need the juice?”
I opened the door and took the glass of juice from him. “Thanks,” I said, closing and locking the door again. “Here, Boone. Drink some of this.”
He reached for the glass with both hands, and I held it for him as he brought it to his mouth. He took a couple of sips and then he started coughing. Before I could ask, he pulled his inhaler out of his pocket and took two puffs. Once he stopped coughing, he leaned back against the wall and reached for the glass again.
