“Why the change of heart?” I ask.
“I’ve known Katelyn for a long time, but have spent all my adult life with you. I want to see you happy and if it’s her, great and if not, great. But I’m not going to get in the middle. I’ll just encourage. Speaking of, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Katelyn,” he says without taking his eyes off the paper.
“Yeah, why?”
“Do you think she can do this job or not?”
I spin my drumstick between my fingers while I contemplate his question. Technically, no, I don’t think she can do the job, but we hired her knowing she had no experience.
“I think she’ll learn. I think that we threw her into the tour without any experience and the things that happened, do you really think she double booked us like that?”
Liam looks up. His eyes steady on mine. “No, but I’m not sure I can get over it.”
I nod. “Yeah, I hear ya.”
I don’t know what we’re going to do. Liam fired Sam and I was okay with that, but I’m not willing to let the band suffer for lack of a manager. We left Los Angeles assuming we could make it here, but maybe we can’t. Maybe we need to spend more time in L.A. working. The band is too important to let shit slide.
“Maybe things will get better.”
Liam smirks as he writes down a note. Maybe I’m just the eternal optimist and don’t want to give up the slight hope I have of making her see the real me. Not the guy she kisses and walks away from.
FOR a week I’ve avoided the Westbury household. Not because I’m mad at Josie, or upset that Liam yelled at me, I deserved the verbal berating I received. But because that is where I work, or used to work, as far as I’m concerned. I’m not cut out for the music industry or any industry for that matter. The tour was a joke, a complete and utter disaster that ended with DeVon’s manager calling and giving me her own tongue lashing and threatening to sue the band for misrepresentation. I’ve had enough. I can’t take anymore. So I’m going to quit before Liam fires me. Save face that way and keep our friendship intact. I should never have taken a job with him, but once again, my mouth got the better of me and now, here I sit with the Wanted ads and a red pen, circling potential jobs. Red because I need the reminder that my life is nothing but a downward spiral and I’m losing control, I’ve lost it completely.
I lay my head down on the cool ground, the grass tickling my cheek. I fight the urge to cry, and not just cry, but to throw a good ole temper tantrum about how unfair life is. I didn’t sign up for this. I never thought I’d be sitting here at twenty-nine years old worrying about a job. A year and half ago everything was so much simpler. My biggest concern was wondering what I’d make for dinner. We weren’t well off by any means, and we lived paycheck to paycheck, but it worked. We didn’t fight or struggle with making our minimum payments. We just lived.
I roll over and look at the clock. It’s after midnight and Mason still isn’t home. There’s a pounding sound coming from the living room. I get up slowly, realizing that I’m still in my clothes from earlier. Tonight’s game had been two hours away. A team trying to make a name for themselves asked if we’d come play them. Mason, never one to turn down a game, obliged happily as did the rest of the team. They loaded up the bus, plus two additional ones for fans and made the trek. The girls and I went, but left early because it was cold.
I walk out into the living room, its dark, but blue lights flash through the window. The pounding starts again. It’s the front door. Mason probably locked himself out.
“Crazy man,” I mutter. I open the door and am met by Paul Baker, the local police chief. “Paul, what are you doing here this late?”
“Hi, Katelyn,” he says as he tips his hat. I push the screen door open and look out into the driveway for Mason’s truck. It’s not there. I try to keep the feeling of dread from creeping in, but it’s there. Something’s wrong.
“I need to take you down to Beaumont General.”
“What for?” I don’t give Paul a chance to even tell me why before I’m asking.
Paul takes off his hat. His eyes are red showing evidence that he’s been crying. “Mason’s been in an accident. You need to come to the hospital.”
My knees buckle. Paul catches me before I hit the ground. “I got you. Come on Katelyn,” he says as he rights me. “Call Josie, tell her to come and sit with the girls. They’ll be okay until she gets here. Roberta will sit outside. We gotta go.”
I nod and walk on shaky legs to the phone. It takes me four times to get her number right. The phone rings and goes to voicemail. I hang up and try again. “Hello?”
“Josie, I need you to come watch the girls. Mason… he’s had an accident and I need to go. Paul’s here.”
“Okay I’ll be over.” Josie hangs up, but I stay on the phone listening to the buzzing sound. Mason’s been in an accident. An accident. The word plays over and over again in my head, but I’m not grasping the meaning. What kind of accident? Paul’s hand presses down on my shoulder and the other takes the phone from my hand. He sets it down so gently I barely hear it click.
“Come, Katelyn we need to go.”
“Is Mason alive?”
Paul doesn’t say anything as he guides me out of the house. He shuts the door behind me and pushes me toward his car. The blue lights blinding me the closer I get.
“The girls…”
“They’ll be fine. Roberta is right there, see?” I follow the direction he’s pointing and see another police car sitting in front of my house. My neighbors are standing on our property line in their robes and slippers, holding hands. I don’t want to know what they’re thinking when Paul helps me into the front seat and pulls out of the driveway.
We drive through the empty streets and even though he’s speeding, it feels like the fifteen-minute drive is taking an hour. My hands are wringing in my lap. My stomach turns and threatens to empty itself all over the floorboard that my feet rest on. Paul turns into the almost empty parking lot and right up to the emergency room entrance. I look out the window at the sliding glass doors and see a few people walking around. Everything looks calm inside, yet everything inside of me is burning and on edge.