Page 30 of Reckless Hearts
I nearly spat out the coffee from my mouth. “My band? Dude, are you high right now?”
Drew laughed like that was the most hysterical thing he’d ever heard. But then his expression grew serious and he leaned over the table, whispering in a hushed voice.
“I am not high. But I am absolutely serious. You my friend, have talent and are the real-deal. You have the music, the lyrics, and the voice. And I suppose by some standards, the look,” he said with a flourish of his hand and a roll of his eyes. “Now you just need some back-up musicians to get you started. And Deg is an excellent rhythm section and a great harmonizer. Add a couple other instruments and you can start something pretty fucking phenomenal.”
The thing I loved most about Drew was the ever-present internal happy-meter he had. Aside from the sleeplessness, the guy was always plugged into positive. High on life, his family and his passion for music. And for helping others. I’d never seen Drew without a wide smile across his ruddy-face, his ginger hair sticking up in all different directions, and his reddish-brown eyebrows lifted in amusement.
I shook my head and grumbled. “Thanks, but they wouldn’t want to play with a convicted felon.”
A roar and a loud smack on the table jarred me, my shoulders jerking back from the noise. People at the table to the right of us gasped.
“Don’t you ever think that about yourself. Sage. That shit doesn’t define you. What happened in your past is over with. You’ve paid your dues and served your time in reparation. Now it’s time to move on. Your whole life is in front of you. You’re still a young man, barely twenty-two-years old. You can make something out of your talent. Trust me. You just have to believe in yourself.”
What Drew wouldn’t understand was that I had never had a belief in myself. After years of hearing my father cut me down and tell me I was worthless, it became a matter of fact. Regardless of how many times Cam, London or now Drew said otherwise.
I hefted my cup in a cheer. “Good speech, man. Thanks.”
A sad smile curved at the corners of his lips and he shook his head in a seemingly disappointed gesture.
Tipping his head back, Drew looked skyward and muttered, “When will he ever see his potential?”
I drew my gaze up to the ceiling where he stared, uncertain of who the hell he was talking to.
A split second later, he sternly tapped the paper on the table. “Call him. If not for you, do it for me. Because while the coffee was a nice treat, this would be your real gift to me.”
