I opened my mouth with something other than an answer, but Paige beat me to the punch. “She had no hair until she was two. And what she did have stood straight up on the top of her head. See?” Paige pointed at the screen. “Cute, right? She was rocking a mohawk before anyone else!” Paige nudged Reid before they both looked at me with matching grins.
Ignoring them, I got lost in the movie, watching as my parents fawned all over the fat, mostly bald toddler on the floor of their kitchen. My mother was drenched in youth as she kneeled on the tile, setting a large pot in front of me, along with a wooden spoon. She tapped it twice with the utensil before she handed it to me. Her dark hair flowed past her shoulders, and I felt the nostalgia punch when I noticed the dress she had on. It was stark white and laced with purple flowers. It still hung in her closet, yellowed and forgotten. Still, on screen, she was breathtaking as she urged me to hit the pot with the wooden spoon. Greedily, I took it from her and began to pound. No longer interested in Paige or Reid’s reaction, and camped in the solitary chair next to the TV, I watched my first attempt at being a musician, just as Paige took another jab.
“And you never got any better,” she joked.
“Some of us were born to be fans, I guess.” I sighed as I watched the spectacle. My father’s sarcastic and affectionate voice sounded as I began to really pound on the pot. “Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea,” he said to my mother as I went full-on rocker and threw my body into it.
“This is epic,” Reid said with a chuckle, his eyes glued to the screen. “Your parents seem cool.”
“They are,” Paige said fondly. “They really are.”
Mom smiled down at me as I did my best to make more music and let out an insanely loud shriek. “You’ve created a monster,” my father said as my mother looked straight into the camera. “One day you’ll be famous, Estella.”
“Just . . . well, maybe not as a drummer.” My father chuckled affectionately and unseen in the video just as I went ballistic, looking something like a chubby, olive Muppet as I roared on with purpose and gave the pot hell.
My parents laughed uncontrollably, as did Paige, Reid, and I before the video went to credits. It was a message that told me they loved me, to get a day job, and not to quit it—a reminder of my failed musical career. Following the joke, the rest of the credits revealed they were proud of me. I felt myself swell at the sentiment, company be damned, and wiped a tear from under my eye.
“I’m so fucking happy I was here to see that,” Reid said with a smug grin, his intentions on giving me hell at the first opportunity before he flicked his eyes to mine. “Happy birthday.”
“It’s not until Saturday, and don’t hate on my skills. I owned that pot,” I said as I reset my nap-tainted ponytail.
“She tried to play everything, and I mean everything,” Paige said with a groan. “Drums, hell no, she sucked. The piano, well, she bit her teacher. And guitar, God, it was awful. She even got a French horn and tried high school band.”
“No shit,” Reid muttered with playful eyes before he bit his bottom lip to restrain his smile. He’d already given far more than I had seen in the week I’d known him.
“She was awful, but my parents just kept buying her instruments. She finally had to give up when she realized she couldn’t play the triangle for a living.”
I shot her the bird as Reid kept his eyes trained on me. It was there again, the static that whirred in my chest because of his scrutiny. I wanted nothing more than for him to look away.
“But she’s going to be a journalist instead,” Paige informed Reid. “Aren’t you, boo bear?” She smiled with the pride of a sister. “Stella decided to be the Encyclopedia Britannica of musicians and a critic.”
“Really?” Reid raised a brow.
Paige nodded. “Ask her anything, I’m dead serious. Ask her anything.”
“Let’s not ask me anything,” I said through a yawn while I eyed the clock, realizing I’d wasted another day getting nowhere.
Paige nodded toward the counter next to me. “They sent a card, too.”
“Did you open that as well? You know, to make sure you ruined everything?”
“Come on, I had to wake you up somehow and I need to shower. I smell like a burrito. I picked up a shift tonight, so you’re alone again. Neil’s working late, too.” She lifted herself from the couch, looked over to Reid, and held out the remote to him. “I’ll be done in a few.” Reid took the remote from her as if they’d been doing the routine for years. And, for all I knew, they had. Paige and I didn’t talk much once she left home. She always came for the holidays, and when she finally had courage enough to announce that she had a live-in boyfriend, and my parents accepted it, she and Neil began to come around more. Her invitation to let me stay with her until school started was a Godsend due to the intrusive behavior of mom and dad. Still, I couldn’t help the dread that coursed through me at the idea of another isolated night in her apartment.
“I’ll go with you,” I piped. “I’ll try to look for a job.”
Paige furrowed her brows. “It’s a six-hour shift.”
“You could let me drop you off and lend me your car.”
“No way,” she quipped. “I’ve seen the way you drive.”
“I drive just fine.”
Paige rolled her eyes before she turned back to Reid. “She drives like she drums.”
“That bad?” Reid chimed in. He got a fuck you very much scowl of his own.
“Within twenty minutes of her being behind the wheel, she hit a parked car.”
I had little defense. “That was four years ago.”
“I’m not lending you my car, but I will buy you a burrito for dinner,” she called as she disappeared into her bedroom.
You could stay at home all night and write.
Normally, I’d jump at the chance to get a new article done, but I was feeling especially uninspired. I needed to get to a show and fast.
Suddenly alone with Reid, and knowing I would probably have about ten minutes in the bathroom after my sister’s shower, I began to gather clothes from my duffle that sat next to her fireplace. My sister had the Cadillac of one-bedroom apartments, but there was little to no room for guests. And though Neil was nice to me, I could tell he wasn’t exactly thrilled with me being there.
I had no time to grieve my joke of a relationship. I needed money and fast. Austin wasn’t cheap, and it was time for this baby bird to truly fly the nest. My parents’ plan was to pay for two years at UT. We were blue-collar, to say the least. Our childhood had always consisted of just enough money. But when Paige had left home, there wasn’t much in either of our tuition savings accounts. Their intentions were in the right place, but they could never really afford to save. My parents had an abundance of love over money, and I would gladly take their support over anything else.
It had turned out to be a blessing for them when I didn’t get into UT the first few years. Both relief and worry for my future clouded their eyes when we sat down to plan. I busted my ass to pay for my first few years of junior college, while they scraped and saved for the next two years. But we made it work, and I was in Austin. And Austin was where my hopes lie for a start that I prayed would lead me to the career I’d been dreaming about since I caught my first episode of Behind the Music.
Alight with a small amount of enthusiasm, and determined not to let Dylan’s rejection ruin any more of it, I brewed a quick cup of coffee and planned my day. I had little to go on in the way of a job that I would truly want. I made a quick mental list of places I could go within walking distance of her restaurant.