“AWESOME JAM session!” announces Bean as he twirls his sticks in the air. 

“We are so ready!” I exclaim. The competition is just a week away, but I’ve never been so ready for anything in my life. We have the smoking hot tunes. Four of them, and they’re full of positive energy. And we have the smoking hot name. Starlight. I love the way it rolls off my tongue when I say it. 

For a brief second, I think about who we’re up against for the competition and Duh-Wayne’s face floats into my consciousness. I shake my head to wash the image away. 

Nothing is going to ruin this chance for me, not even Duh-Wayne. 

The competition. It’s my one chance to get out of this town, to have the musical career of my dreams. The winner gets a paid-in-full opportunity to audition for American Singer and the winner of that gets a recording contract. I can almost feel the contract in my hand. 

Turning my attention back to the task at hand, I unplug my guitar. As I put my Gibson back into its case, Bean moves from his perch behind his drum set and squats next to me. “Hey, I’ve got to give Stevie a ride home, but after that would you like to go for a cruise?” 

“Yeah.” I give him a smile. “I would.”

“Bean. Come on, I’ve got to get home,” Stevie says in a tone that’s not quite impatient. 

I stand. “Just let me put this away,” I say, patting my guitar case. I hustle inside and run my guitar up to my room. 

When I return to the garage, I hit the button and then sneak under the door as it makes its descent. Stevie’s standing just outside the passenger door, waiting for me to climb into the car next to Bean before he gets in. He’s thoughtful that way. 

I climb in and give Bean a nudge and a grin. He grins back and his eyes have that special twinkle that’s just for me. 

Stevie scrambles in and closes the door. “Let’s go.” 

Bean backs out of the driveway and heads down the road. The Brown Turd rumbles and backfires as he steps on the gas. I’m surprised Mr. Szasbo hasn’t made an appearance, but then I remember his cat. Ever since I saved his kitten, I haven’t heard a complaint from him. Maybe he has warmed toward me. 

It takes us fifteen minutes to reach Stevie’s house. A brick ranch with a long front porch and attached two-stall garage. The house doesn’t seem to match my friend. I expected him to live in some bungalow by the sea. Instead, he’s in small town suburbia and it dawns on me that I don’t even know what his parents do for a living. 

“I’ll catch you guys tomorrow,” Stevie says with a wave, pulling me from my thoughts. 

“Yeah. Tomorrow,” I say with a quick smile. I can’t wait for him to leave so I can be alone with Bean. 

“Later, Dude,” Bean yells before rolling up his window. I snuggle up to him as he steps on the gas and heads toward downtown. “So where do you want to go?” 

I shrug. “I don’t know. Let’s go someplace where we can talk.” 

He winks at me and says, “I know just the place.” 

“Where?” 

“You’ll see.” He gives me a mischievous smile that sends my heart racing. I love it when he looks at me like that. 

We make small talk while he drives to our destination. I’m shocked when we pull into a cemetery. “What are we doing here?” 

“You said you wanted to go someplace to talk.” He snickers. “We definitely won’t get interrupted here.” 

“No kidding,” I say as I stare out the window. The grave markers go by and I can’t help but think about the people lying beneath the ground. I wonder what kind of lives they had. As I think about these things, I realize there’s a lot of history in this cemetery. 

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Bean asks as he grabs my hand. The familiarity of the rough calluses on my skin warms my heart. He stops the car and turns the engine off. 

“My mom admitted it.” 

“Admitted what?” Bean shifts in his seat and slouches against the driver’s door. 

I shift and turn toward him. Before I speak, I rub my fingers along the scar above my right eyebrow. It’s my bastard stamp. I got it the day Duh-Wayne called me a bastard and then laughed when I didn’t know what one was. As I recall the horrific fight we had, a shudder runs through me as I tell him. “She admitted that Jared Miller is my father.” 

“What?” Bean sits up straight and bumps his head against the window. Rubbing it he says, “When did all this happen?”

“Last night.” I brush a curl away from my face. 

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February 15--Katie's Clean Book Collection | Mel's Shelves
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