Smiling fondly, I tell her the simple truth. “It was amazing. I was nervous as shit each time I went out on that stage, but then I always settled, and it always felt… just so right. I can’t wait to do it again.”
She nods in agreement. “You were amazing in New York. Never been more proud of you. I’m sure your parents are too.”
Midge had flown there to see me perform. It wasn’t a surprise, as she’d have liked, but without a manager to help arrange such surprises, she felt it best to give me a head’s-up she was coming. She watched from backstage and her presence there felt really damn good.
I cock an eyebrow at her over the comment about my parents. They’d been invited to all my shows but hadn’t attended one yet. “You really want to go there, Aunt Midge?”
She gives me a sheepish grin. “Well, I’m sure they’d be if they ever bothered to care about anyone but themselves.”
This is not typical of Midge. She usually plays the peacemaker in the tumultuous relationship I have with my parents. I rebelled a lot as a younger kid, craving the attention of parents who just didn’t have it in them to give. When Midge stepped in and took over as the main role model in my life, she did so with a determined effort for me to never forget my mom and dad.
It was a valiant attempt by her, but over the years, I stopped caring. They lived happy and fruitful lives and well, so have I. Midge gave me everything I could ever need, and continues to do so.
“Let’s get a little business out of the way,” she says, her voice going from doting proud aunt to shrewd legal shark. “The copyright lawsuit’s been dismissed and all the papers filed.”
“Awesome,” I say. Because it is. Midge took over the case since Emma left, and she got my former bandmates to agree to a lump sum of seventy-five thousand, which I assume they split three ways. They also signed a confidentiality agreement and I am now free from that drama.
“I’ve also gone over the breach-of-contract suit,” she says briskly. “He doesn’t have a leg to stand on, but I’m betting he’s going to drag this out all the way. He’s looking for a quick payday and will probably jump at any offer you make to him.”
I grimace. The “him” she’s referencing is Tyler. Two weeks ago, a sheriff’s deputy served me in Washington D.C. with a lawsuit Tyler filed against me for breach of contract and wrongful termination. Figures that fucker would still want to take a piece of me, which infuriates me considering all I lost because of him.
“Don’t offer him a fucking dime,” I growl at her from across the table. “Not one penny. Drag this out for years if you have to, and if you want to make him suffer in the process, that would make me very, very happy.”
Midge chuckles. “That’s definitely part of my DNA swimming in your veins. Never one to back down from a fight.”
“Damn skippy,” I mutter. “Now let’s move on to more pleasant things to discuss.”
We continue to chat, getting caught up on each other’s lives. While we talked frequently by phone while I was on tour, it wasn’t the same as just good old one-on-one time with a loved one. Midge spends a great deal of time talking about Cary, and this is done with an unbreakable smile on her face. It amazes me still how much she’s changed since she started seeing him. I swear, if it’s possible, she actually looks even younger because of it.
The waiter brings our drinks.
We order thick ribeye steaks with fried Brussel sprouts.
We talk about everything under the sun.
Well, almost everything.
“So, Cary and I are thinking about taking a trip in the fall,” Midge says as she daintily cuts off a piece of steak.
“Oh, yeah?” I ask. “Where are you going to go?”
She shrugs as she holds the steak poised on the tip of her fork. “We’re batting around a few ideas. Maybe Europe.”
“Sounds great,” I say with a smile. She gives me a pensive look, puts the steak in her mouth, and delicately chews as she stares at me.
After she swallows, she points the fork at me. “Want to come with us? You could use a vacation.”
I’m shaking my head in the negative. “A romantic trip to Europe and you drag your nephew along? No thanks. Not into being a third wheel.”
Midge chuckles and puts her fork down. Picking up her second martini, she rotates her wrist to swirl the liquid before taking a sip. When she sets the glass down, she looks at me slyly. “You don’t have to be a third wheel. You could bring someone.”