Page 3 of Spring Break with a Bass Player
“I am.”
“What instrument do you play?”
“The bass.”
“Is it boring?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you play any other instruments?”
“I can play almost anything.”
“What about the piano?”
“It’s not my favorite but I do all right,” I say, my smile growing with each question she fires at me.
“I want to take lessons but Dad doesn’t want me to.”
“That’s not what I said,” Wells retorts, carrying a tray of glasses and setting them on the bar. “I said that you have a lot of activities, and I want you to choose the ones you’re most excited about so that you still have time to be a kid.”
She huffs at her father, and it’s obvious this is a conversation they’ve had before. Not getting anywhere with him, she turns her focus back to me. “Do you write songs?”
“Sometimes.”
“Love songs?”
“Quite a few.”
“Dad says I’m not allowed to come here when you play.”
“Because the crowd is too rowdy for you when I’m working,” Wells says through gritted teeth, and I try my best to cover my smile by wiping my hand over my face. Haven can’t be older than ten, but it’s obvious she’s a pro at pressing her father’s buttons.
“Are you gonna write one about Aunt Saige?” she asks with a huff as she turns her attention back to me.
“Haven,” Wells warns her but I just chuckle.
“Do you think she’d like that?” I ask, not entirely sure of the answer.
Haven ponders for a moment, her head tilting back and forth like she’s really working out all the factors.
“I think so. She has your shirt in her closet.”
“My…”
“Haven, that’s not—” Wells huffs and looks at me. “She has a TCA shirt that’s been relegated to the depths of her closet.”
Interesting.
“So, there’s hope for me?” I joke, even though I’m mostly serious. It’s been almost three months of trying to get back into Saige’s good graces. The woman has made it her mission to avoid me at all costs, and I’ve doubled down to find those pockets of time where she can’t.
Something passes through Wells’s gaze I can’t make out before he lifts one shoulder and lets it drop. “Middle of the night band practice and not showing up when you said you would didn’t help your cause.”
I open my mouth to retort and then close it before nodding. “I’m trying to be more respectful of her time.”
Of course she told him about me standing her up.But did she tell him everything? Is that why he’s even talking to me now?
“Dad, can we go?” Haven whines, seemingly done with this entire conversation and pulling me back to the present.
