Page 16 of Fresh Tracks
Looking through the dirty window, I take in the surrounding businesses. It’s been over twenty years since the first time I performed in the seedy bars and venues that once littered almost every corner of the area. There are still plenty of bars, but none are the type that would have given us a gig.
No. This place has definitely gotten trendy.
We were some unknown punks back then and getting slots to play was a grind. The places here now are the ones that would have taken one look at a twenty year old me, and said absolutely not. My shaggy hair was a shade or two lighter and a few inches longer back then — a tribute to Washington’s original blond grunge icon, my idol. My white tank tops, or cut off flannels, showed off the cheesy barbed wire tattoo I thought was so edgy on my bicep. My pierced eyebrow only added to the fact that I looked like trouble, even if I was far from it.
Hell. I wonder if these places even do live music anymore. I’m sure they have a curated streaming playlist, ironically with some of my old songs. I guess the joke is on those places that turned us away when we first got started. They aren’t here anymore, and I own yet another building in this neighborhood where I enjoy fixing up these properties.
The sound of footsteps, plodding along the worn, old hardwood floors, has me turning to spot Jake and Slade walking over to me.
Slade is wearing his ever-present, confident scowl. His dark hair is parted to the side in a way that reminds me how controlling he is about everything in his life, from the way he plates his dishes to how he runs his kitchens right down to how he folds the cuff of his over-priced selvedge jeans.
“You love it, don't you?” he says smugly, holding a finger up and circling it around the room.
I put on my best concerned look. “Well it doesn’t really matter since I already let you two make theoffer.”
I hold his gaze but he doesn't flinch. He's always so damn serious. Finally I give in and roll my eyes. “Yes, you were right. I fucking love it.” I point over my shoulder with my thumb back toward the street. “I forgot just how nice this area is now.”
Jake slaps me on the shoulder and I immediately remember that my younger brother makes me feel small with his linebacker build. "You know, if you made it out and hit up a bar more than once a year, you’d have realized how much it’s changed.”
“Did I come here to get ribbed all night by you two, or for you to show me the rest of the plan for this place?” I scoff playfully.
Slade cocks his head to the side, still with a smug smile before reaching out and plucking a piece of dust off my shoulder. “Nope. I just wanted to hear you say I was right. I need to get going.”
“Do you always have to be so dramatic and cocky?” I mutter, prompting Jake to snicker.
Slade just shrugs. “Does it even matter? Anyway, I’ll see you when you're back for the party.”
I shift to the side to let him head toward the door. Jake watches Slade walk away before turning back to face me, tipping his chin. “You got a sec?”
I lean against the exposed brick wall, folding my arms across my chest.
“Yeah, what's up?”
“You coming to dinner at Mom and Dad’s tonight?” He gives me his normal shit-eating grin, damn well knowing the answer.
“Yeah, you know I wouldn't miss it. I need to be back in Jackson tomorrow though. I’m supposed to meet Sutton for lunch.”
He shakes his head. “I swear you're going to become an honorary Sterling brother.”
I lift a shoulder. “You're not getting rid of me that easy.” Jake smiles back softly and we share a knowing look.
Somehow, fate brought us together. The foster parents that took me in my freshman year of high school took him in only a year later. Although I aged out of the system, they ended up adopting Jake before he graduated. We bonded almost instantly the day we met and have considered ourselves brothers ever since.
“So what did youreallywant to talk about?”
“Oh, just your favorite thing. Taxes and finances.”
“Fuck me,” I groan, running my hand through my hair, pushing it back. “Do we have to do this now?”
Jake knows I hate talking about this stuff. He’s three years younger than me, and for the life of me, I will never understand why he wanted to get a business degree. But by the time he was looking at law schools, the band’s second album had taken off and I had more than enough to put him through school.
“I know you don't like talking about money and business around Mom and Dad,” he says, pulling out a folder from his messenger bag.
“Fine.”
Our last family, they were the first people that ever chose to have me in their life, the first ones that made me feel wanted. I owe them so much, and Jake feels the same way, calling them ‘Mom and Dad’.
But he’s right, it’s not that I don't want them to hear because they’d ask for money or something like that. I’ve offered to buy them a new house, cars, whatever, dozens of times and they always turn me down. If they ever did ask me for anything, they’d get it. No questions asked.
