was put to rest almost a year ago. I remembered the funeral as if it was yesterday. Silently praying the entire time to the big man up above to never be in their shoes. I couldn’t imagine what they were still going through.
Except for Journey, she was only a month old when her momma passed. Camila was her nanny, and I guess in her crystal blue eyes that woman was her momma. When Journey stood up to walk over to her daddy again, my attention abruptly shifted to him.
The instant panic in his eyes had me jerking back. Realizing what I’d overheard our families say was in fact true. Aiden really hadn’t held his daughter yet. When Camila stepped in, rushing over to Journey to pick her up instead, I knew something was brewing between the good doctor and her.
It was blatantly obvious.
I shook off those thoughts, focusing on the baby girl who happily clapped in her nanny’s arms.
Little did I know, I’d watched Journey take her first steps. Never imagining that one day...
She'd be walking toward me.
And my face would mirror her daddy’s.
Chapter 4
“Performing is pure magic.”
-Michael Jackson
<>Cash<>
I still remember the day as if it were yesterday. The first person I ever heard perform on a stage was none other than Lily Foster. She sang and played the guitar on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday nights at Harley’s memaw’s restaurant on the beach. It was like a second home to us good ol’ kids.
Up until that point, I had no clue I could make something of myself with music.
It could be my life.
My career.
My everything.
From that moment forward, I put all my time and energy into learning everything and anything I could about music. It became the most important thing to me. The only thing that mattered was to end up on that stage, singing and playing my songs for a crowd of people chanting my name.
I finally got the chance to show off my talent to anyone who wanted to listen. Joining a band with two other guys from my school who weren’t as good as me, but it was a step in the right direction.
Although, it didn’t stop me from performing on my own wherever and whenever I could. Leaning against the picnic table in our middle school’s courtyard, I captured half of our school’s attention. Strumming my guitar, playing my bluesy beat with Harley dancing by my side.
Head swaying.
Foot tapping.
I sang the song I wrote for her.
“There was a girl.”
Da na na na na na.
“And her name was Harley.”
Da na na na na na.
“She was coolest girl.”
Da na na na na na.
“In all the town.”
Da na na na na na.
“Wit’ her bright blue eyes.”
Da na na na na na.
“And snarky fuckin’ mouth.”
Da na na na na na.
“She was my girl.”
Da na na na na na.
“No matter what.”
Da na na na na na.
“She’d always be...
Da na na na na na.
“My very best friend.”
Da na na na na na.
“Now, forever, then.”
Da na na na na na.
It was the first song I’d ever created. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t award winning by any means, but Harley loved it. Plus, it was good practice for me. Together, we put on a show for everyone to see, lost in our own little world. Harley loved the attention as much as I did, eating up every second of it. Swaying her head like me, closing her eyes while she rocked her hips back and forth.
Being one with the rhythm.
“Step right up, ladies and gents! No need to fear! Come see the dumbass pussy boy and his trained dancin’ monkey!”
I instantly stopped playing, recognizing the voice parting the crowd.
Trigger Reed.
Our school’s pass rusher on the football team and Jackson’s butt buddy. They were best friends who thought they were gods. The whole football team did. I didn’t give a shit about football.
I didn’t give a shit about them.
There were also rumors he was into Shiloh, but she didn’t give two shits about him either.
Before I could say a word, Harley didn’t hesitate to whip around and step toward them. I grabbed her arm, holding her back. She had the temper of her daddy, often losing her shit on anyone who pissed her off.
The crowd fell into a fit of laughter, pointing at the douchebags standing in front of us. Trigger didn’t miss a beat, staring only at us as he spun in a slow circle with his arms out in the air.
Announcing, “Only a two-dollar admission to the lamest show on earth!”
I shook