Making my way through the sea of bodies filling the bar, I search for signs of either Dallas or Gavin in every small grouping of people but see neither.
Dallas waves at me from a seat where he and Robyn are talking up the Rock the Republic guys. I’m relieved to see them, but still no Gavin.
I’m drunk on adrenaline and disoriented as I continue my search.
The emcee announces that there are two bands left and I feel like I’m being thrown face-first out of a plane—with no parachute.
Where the hell is he?
I throw up a silent prayer, my last resort when I’m consumed with hopelessness.
Please don’t let him choose the darkness.
Please, please, for once, for me, let him choose the light.
28 | Gavin
I DON’T KNOW if it’s an innate thing or what, but I can literally feel when my mom is about to come into my world and fuck it all up.
All night at the battle of the bands I’ve been jittery, on edge, and basically consumed with the overwhelming sensation of impending doom. After round two I check my phone for news that the sky is falling and there it is.
The trailer is gone.
I need your help.
I’m all alone.
I’m scared, Gavin. Please.
I don’t recognize the number but I know it’s one of the many prepaid cell phones she goes through. I resist the urge to call back until I’m outside the bar. We’ve got several other acts until we go on again, if we even make it to the finals, that is. When Dixie heads to the ladies’ room I slip outside and pull up the number.
It goes to a generic message telling me this user doesn’t have voice mail.
I wait a few seconds and sure enough, my phone vibrates in my hand.
Caller Unknown.
Except, I do know.
“Hi, Mom,” I answer on a sigh.
“How could you?” her shrill voice answers back. “How could you let them take our home away, Gavin? What did I ever do to you to deserve this?”
The list is endless.
“It wasn’t being paid for and you were never there. I moved out on my own like I told you I was going to. It’s been gone almost a week and you’re just now noticing. That should tell you everything you need to know.”
A couple moves past me to go inside the Tavern and I nod and step aside.
My mom’s shrieking reaches an inaudible level of hysteria as she rambles on about having nowhere else to go and how she’s not safe.
“Not safe from what, Mom?” I break in. “Calm down and breathe and tell me what you aren’t safe from.”
“Carl,” she chokes out. “No one is safe from Carl. They took his son away, said you and your friend reported him and some other stuff. He asked me where to find you and nearly strangled me to death until I told him.”
Jesus.
“Where are you? And where did you tell him to look?”
She coughs her typical smoker’s wheeze loudly into the phone before answering me.
“Mom. Fucking tell me where you are and where you told him I’d be.”
“I-I wasn’t sure,” she stammers out. “I told him you work at that bar we saw you at and that sometimes you hang out at that Korean store by the truck stop. I didn’t tell him anything else, I swear.”
She told him enough.
“Where are you right now?”
She coughs again. “I’m at his place. At Carl’s. But he’s not here; he left when they called and told him he couldn’t have his son back. He said he was going to find you and your friend and teach you a lesson about interfering in other people’s private business.”
“Great, Mom. That’s great. Thanks.”
“Baby, I’m sorry,” she pleads. “I—he’s—you’re not . . . He’s not a good man, Gavin. If he wants to hurt you, he will.”
I breathe through my nose.
Violence.
It always finds me.
But I’ll be damned if it comes anywhere near my Bluebird.
The thing about my world is that it’s typically bathed in darkness regardless. People like Carl and my mother will find the darkened corners even in the bright of day. It’s where they thrive.