Rock Radio - By Lisa Wainland Page 0,95

car was just where he parked it. He hopped in and began the drive back to Miami.

It was now nighttime. He was thankful for the darkness, it shrouded him from prying eyes. He sped along the highway desperate to get home. He wanted to be there when Dana woke up.

When Dana realized she was now with the man of her dreams.

Chapter 66

Cody ordered a large bouquet of flowers to be delivered to Dana at work on Monday with the message:

Counting the days...the hours...the minutes.

I love you.

Cody

He then caught the late flight from Nassau to Miami, changed planes and was on his way to the Gainesville Airport. Fortunately the flight was quick and smooth. He hated the quiet...it only made him think of Dana and how much he missed her. He wanted to get back in the swing of things...get his mind occupied. The plane landed and they exited onto the tarmac. Gainesville’s airport was small, which was good in the sense that you got off the plane and out the door fast. Cody got into his used silver BMW convertible – a present for himself from the first big check he got from the record company – and headed to Pinetree and his mother.

He had mixed feelings about seeing her. It had been years. They spoke occasionally on the phone, exchanging pleasantries and such, but she didn’t really know him, she didn’t know who he was as a person. She told him she was proud of him, a comment usually followed by a plea for money. He figured she was proud of his paycheck.

Cody maneuvered through the small town streets thinking about how far he’d come from the scared little boy who thought there was no way out of his rural existence. It felt good in a sense to come back on his terms, in his luxury car, needing no one.

Not that he was a millionaire, not by any means. His band was doing well – a spot on the charts meant money, good money, but not unbelievable money. That would happen over time or with a huge, huge hit. And it would happen. Of that Cody was certain.

He sighed. In a way, he wondered why he was visiting his home. Things were going so well...Dana, the band...he hated knowing that this visit would probably bring him down.

He turned down the familiar dirt road and slowly approached the shack his mother still called home. He begged her to move, time after time, specifically earmarking the money as a means for her to have a nicer place to live...a place that didn’t hold so many awful memories. She put him off, “Cody, I appreciate your money, but I use it for my living expenses and for food...you have no idea how much things cost.” Her logic made no sense. Of course he knew how much things cost, he was living on his own. But arguing with her was useless. She didn’t understand the meaning of a conversation, nor did she have the ability to grasp the idea that she could be wrong.

The lights in the house were on. Cody was tired. He figured they’d talk for a bit, then he’d call Dana and go to sleep. The next morning he’d meet up with the band and could get out of the past and back to his future.

He parked the car and walked up the stone path passing a new pick-up truck in the driveway. Well, maybe she had spent some of the money on something useful. He slowed his pace. Each step forward seemed to remove years from his life, turning him into a scared young boy. He resisted the urge to be afraid and knocked strongly on the door.

It opened and there she was – his mother. Jane Smith had aged well. Smooth skin marred only by slight wrinkles around her eyes and light hair with a few strands of gray.

“Cody!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. She pushed him back, “Let me look at you! Oh, you look wonderful!” She hugged him again.

“You look good too, Momma.” It felt good to be in her arms. “Can I come in?”

“Of course, of course.” She eyed him nervously. “I have a surprise for you.”

It was then that Cody saw the tall heavyset man in the kitchen.

“Hello, boy.”

It was his dad.

His body tensed automatically.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Cody exploded.

“Cody,” his mom said calmly in the voice he remembered from so many years ago, “he’s your father.”

“No he’s not!”