Page 60 of Best Friend Burden

“I want to eat it all,” she said. She gestured to the cameraman, “Harry, you've got to give this a try.”

He laughed, and she walked towards him, giving him a bite of the taco.

“It's good!” he said, almost instinctively, but then paused. Then the flavor kicked in. “Wow. That'sreallygood.”

I laughed. Ellen continued to poke around on the tray, but then must have remembered that she was in the middle of giving an interview.

“I'm sorry I got so distracted by this amazing food,” she said as she stood up and faced the camera. “Now, it also looks like you're expecting. When are you due?”

“Just a couple of weeks,” I said. “At that point, Kalle over there is going to essentially handle things full-time for a little while, but don't worry. You're all in good hands.”

“I'll say,” Ellen said.

She asked a few more questions about the history of the truck and the origin of the recipes — all things I'd rehearsed over and over again — and as a result, my mind drifted again, imagining Kiefer out there somewhere. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't get him out of my head. What was wrong with me?

“Any final words for our viewers?” Ellen asked.

“Sure, Ellen,” I said. “Even reducing meat consumption by one day a week can make a huge difference in terms of greenhouse emissions, animal welfare, and your own health. Give us a try, and I guarantee you'll never look at plant-based eating the same way again.”

“There you have it!” Ellen said. “This was Melody Cruz and The Vegan Vaquero, out in the Larchmont Village area of West Hollywood. And, for Channel 5 news, I'm Ellen Sparks. Back to you!”

The cameraman turned off the light and thanked me for my time.

“You mind if I take this with me?” Ellen said, pointing towards the tray.

“Of course not,” I said.

It was amazing how quickly my dream had come true. I'd come out to Los Angeles in the hopes of bringing my food truck to a new group of people. Within a year's time, I'd become enough of a success to support myself as well as earn the attention of the local news. And, if the spreadsheet data was correct, we were still on the upswing in terms of popularity.

And, on top of that, I was about to be a mother. The doctor said all signs pointed to a healthy baby being born right on time.

Yet, despite it all, there was an emptiness inside me that I couldn't quite explain, but it felt hollower whenever Kiefer came to mind.

I wondered if maybe it was Olivia's way of telling me that she wanted to have her father in her life.

Well, I thought,that's on him and the universe.

CHAPTER26

***KIEFER***

Most of the time, I could go through my days and focus on work. It was really good for me that Natasha had me working with her on her project because it meant that I was effectively putting in 16-hour days, which meant almost no time to think about Melody. And yet, at the same time, as unconventional as it was, we were still putting together a pop album, and every song had a habit of reminding me of Melody.

Even that was fine, though. Because I could channel the energy into artistic output and use it to make the music better. It was a funny thing, Natasha and I working together on this album. While she was on the upswing of a relationship, I was dealing with the heartache of a breakup. It created an interesting dichotomy that added some layers to the music.

Ernie must have suspected that something was up over the last several months. The two of us always arrived before he did and left afterwards, but so long as we were doing our jobs, he didn't seem to mind. Ultimately, though, we knew that the day would come when we'd have to tell him about what we were working on, and that day was getting awfully close.

Natasha and I were driving around town — not to go anywhere, mind you, but to make sure that the album still sounded good through a sub-par car sound system. Would the little details turn into mud through crappy speakers? Or would they add atmosphere like they were supposed to?

“I'm nervous,” Natasha said when we finished listening to the most recent song we'd worked on, a power ballad called Mosquito.

“You don't think it's good?” I asked her. To my ears, it sounded fantastic. I was actually impressed by what we were able to get out of my car's system. It wasn't as good as what we'd been hearing in the studio, but it was better than anything I'd heard on the radio lately.

“No,” she said, “I do. That's why I'm nervous. When something sucks, you can keep working on it and hide it in the shadows. If it's good, and finished, that's when you need to put your ego on the line and show it to someone.”

One might think that I'd been working in the industry long enough to be over that feeling, but I know what she meant. A while back, I'd just come to terms with the fact that most of what I played on wouldn't be great, but I'd do my best and cash the check, and that would be that. For the first time in a very long time, I'd been a part of something I could be proud of. And not just that, it was something personal I could be proud of.

And that was a little bit terrifying.

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