Super Fake Love Song - David Yoon Page 0,32

and scrubbed around. Dad was driving home from his reserved parking spot at the gleaming offices of Manny Dae Business Services. The car made its way home, entered the garage, and let Dad out. After a moment, the lights went dark and all the colors flipped into black-and-white night mode. Nothing special.

“I don’t get it,” I muttered.

“Get what,” said Gray.

I showed Gray what I was doing. “I’m trying to find the balljiggler who keyed Dad’s—”

I stopped, because Gray had stopped. He eyed the phone like it was a king cobra.

“No,” blurted Gray. He lunged for the phone, splashing cereal all over himself in the process.

When I looked at the screen, I saw a ghostly figure flit past in the dark. I scrubbed back a few seconds—sure enough, a hand holding a screwdriver was digging into the side of the Inspire NV. But inside the garage?

Gray rose to his feet. I huddled over the phone to keep him from getting at it.

I jumped back five seconds, and held my forehead in disbelief.

There was Gray, glaring at the car with murder in his eyes.

The multicolored Os of cereal funneled themselves into a narrow white delta of milk and moseyed down a stream dripping off the rounded edge of the quartz countertop.

“Close that tab,” said Gray.

“What the hell,” I said.

“I just,” said Gray.

“Why did you do that?” I said.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” said Gray. “Get me a towel or something.”

“Get it yourself,” I said.

Gray did, and flung it over the mess. We both watched as the cloth became dark and heavy with milk. Then Gray lunged for Dad’s phone again.

“Close the tab, dude,” he said.

“Dad’s gonna ask about it anyway,” I said, holding the phone behind me. “What then?”

Gray looked like he wanted to rip all the hair off his head.

I lowered my voice to a murmur. “Why did you do it?”

Gray searched and searched for words. It felt like a whole minute passing. I tuned my ear past the white noise of the rain and could detect Mom and Dad authoritatively babbling office-speak in the next room.

“Dad keeps saying he’s proud of me for making the hard decision to pivot home,” said Gray, eyes fixed on the sopping towel.

I furrowed my eyes. “Pivot home? As in for good?”

“I keep telling Dad that I’m gonna move back up to Hollywood,” said Gray. He picked up the towel and wrung it out. “He was all, It’s just a social get-together, when in fact it was a friggin’ group interview over dinner and drinks.”

“So like a job interview?” I said.

“I am going to move back up to Hollywood,” said Gray. “No matter what.”

Gray wrung out the towel, rinsed it, wrung it out again until I thought it would tear.

I was at a loss for what to say. If Gray wanted to move back to Hollywood and start up that new band he had already lined up, what the hell was stopping him?

Gray wiped the counter again even though it was already clean. “So we get back last night, and Mom and Dad are all, It’s best to keep your passion separate, because if music becomes work, it stops being your passion and turns into a job like any other job.”

“What kind of horrible advice is that?” I said, repulsed.

“Basically they’re like, quit music except as a friggin’ hobby,” said Gray. “Just kill my dreams dead.”

Gray glanced at the door, listened for voices, and continued.

“On the drive home Dad’s all, I like to define my dreams concretely, this was my dream car forever, now look at us rolling, fsss.”

“Is he trying to say a car is the same thing as a dream?” I said.

Gray chuckled with despair. “Right? Dad’s been saying crap like that on repeat every minute since I got home. Every. Single. Minute.”

I’d never seen him so tired. I could see him old, as old as Dad and beyond. He wrung out the towel in the sink once more.

“Let me help you with that,” I said.

“I got it,” said Gray. He hung the towel to drip-dry, and ground away the cereal in the garbage disposal. It looked like the spill had never happened.

Gray picked off Os still clinging to his wet shirt. He smoothed his hair. He spoke softly now. “So what’s up with Milo and Jamal these days?”

“I’m sorry Mom and Dad are so annoying,” I said.

Gray didn’t seem to hear me. “That Cirrus seems like a sweetheart, huh? Happy for you, dude.”

“Hey,” I said.

“You’re having tons of fun right now,”