Page 62 of All In
I drove my little car home, where I stood in the entry. Home, yet feeling untethered. I had success now. Money in my bank account, good friends and a career that seemed to be taking off.
Shut the door. Do something big.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I called my parents’ house in San Diego. The ringing went to the answering machine. After my mother's halting voice said to leave a message, I sucked in a deep breath.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. It's Kacey. I haven't called in almost eight months. I don't know if you tried to call me. I got rid of my old cell phone, but I have a new number now. I’m living in New Orleans. My music career is taking off—as a solo artist this time—and I'm taking care of myself.”
I took another breath, feeling the urge to hurry. If the machine cut me off, I wouldn’t have the guts to call again.
“I’m doing really well, and I just wanted to let you know. I’m okay. And also…” I exhaled and sat up straighter. “This is the last time I'm going to call you. I can't keep trying and getting no response. If you want to talk to me, I'm here. Okay, Mom? If you want to talk, you call me. If not…Well, then I hope you both have a long and happy life.”
I left them my new cell phone number and hung up. My heart was pounding, and tears stung my eyes, but I wiped them away and huffed a breath.
That’s a start.
I glanced around my shabby little place with its second-hand, mismatched furniture, old linoleum floors, cruddy tile countertops and cheap, stained carpet. The bones of the house—as they were always saying on the HGTV shows—were good. It was a classic New Orleans shotgun. It deserved better than this.
I called the bank that owned the house and set up an appointment for the following day. I didn’t call Theo that night and for whatever reason, he didn’t call me.
I went into the bank the next day at two p.m, and by five o’clock, I was in escrow.
Outside the bank, I paused to catch my breath, my heart racing for the amount of money I'd just committed myself to paying. $64,000 wasn’t a huge mortgage payment but I took out a loan for $75,000 in order to make some renovations. I’d never owed more money in my life. But I wanted roots. A place of my own where I could dig in, stay grounded. I wasn’t about to be whisked off on a road tour or lose myself in the big Los Angeles music industry.
My pounding heart slowed, but inexplicably, it left me left me with that same hollow feeling I’d had before I left for the bank.
What is wrong with me?
I’d settled up with my parents, bought a fucking house for crying out loud, but I still felt like something was missing.
I called Phoebe and told her I was free on Friday if Matt Porter was still interested. She assured me he was, and she’d give him my number.
I hung up. I waited to feel satisfied.
I felt slightly nauseated instead.
That night I picked at my dinner while sitting on the couch, and then watchedBig Trouble in Little Chinauntil midnight. It was ten in Vegas, and Theo was out of class.
“Guess what?” I said, my dinner suddenly churning in my gut.
“You finished shooting the music video,” he said.
“Yesterday,” I said. “Also, I called my parents for the last time. Left a message. If they want to talk, they can call me, but I'm done offering my hand only to have it slapped back.”
“Good for you, babe,” Theo said.
It was eighty degrees in my house, but a shiver slipped up my spine, morphed into a nervous laugh that burst out of me.
“Babe?”
“Ha, sorry. Kace,” he said.
“You have too many women to juggle,” I said, plucking mercilessly at the couch cushion. “I can see how we all start to blend in.”
“Yeah, okay.” He coughed, cleared his throat. “So, it’s good you settled things with your parents.Kace.”
“That's not all I settled,” I said. “I bought my house. I'm a homeowner. Shoot me now.”
“You did?” A short silence. “Wow, that's…great. So, I guess you're in New Orleans for good?”
