Fortunate Son by Jay Crownover

Bowe

I LET OUT a startled shriek when my headphones were suddenly pulled off. I was alone in my dad’s recording studio and had been for hours. I knew he didn’t have anyone scheduled today, which was why I’d opted to work in his studio and use his superior equipment instead of the basic setup I had at home.

I put a hand to my racing heart and glared at my dad as he plopped down in the expensive leather seat next to mine in front of the computer and soundboard.

I didn’t have a regular part-time job like most young adults my age. I made money by creating beats and samples that I sold to aspiring musicians who might not be as deft with music as I was. It was a pretty lucrative venture and kept me afloat for the most part. I also got to work as much or as little as I wanted, got to play around with different genres and sounds, and it allowed me to interact with other musicians all over the world. I was never going to get rich or famous doing it, but it allowed me devote most of my free time to my band and songwriting.

My dad chuckled and reached out to flick the end of my nose. It was something he’d done since I was young and always made me giggle in response. I wiggled the tip in response and reached up to rub the ticklish spot.

“What are you doing here? I looked at the schedule before I came in, and it said the studio was supposed to be empty today.”

My dad leaned back in the chair and kicked out his long legs. He still looked like a rockstar even if he spent less time playing in front of crowds screaming his name these days. His dark hair was a bit too long. His black jeans were a tad too tight and ripped even more than mine. He had his wedding ring on his left hand, but he also wore a mix of other rings on his other fingers. Most of his visible skin sported some kind of tattoo. His journey through life was very much engraved on his skin, and I thought that was beautiful. His t-shirt was faded and depicted a screaming Valkyrie stabbing a fiery sword through a pile of skeletons. I was sure it was a band tee, one I’d probably borrowed from his closet when he was out of town once or twice before. He was always the coolest parent at any school function, and not just because he was such a good-looking man. He had a unique swagger and more style than most dads. He was a bit edgier and more unconventional than a dad who worked forty hours a week for a corporation to support his family. He was more colorful, and in my opinion, way more talented and gifted than most dads.

I always wanted to be just like him when I was growing up, and that hadn’t changed much now that I was old enough to make my own life decisions.

“I saw you come in on the security feed. You haven’t been by the house in a while, and your mom and I don’t want to seem overbearing and intrude on your personal space by showing up at your house. We were waiting for an invite, but since you don’t seem in any hurry to give one, I figured I’d swing by and see what you’re up to.” He wiggled his dark eyebrows at me. “Plus, Rule asked me to check up on Ry. I never thought he’d turn into the uptight type when it came to his kids. He was such a hellraiser back in the day.”

I laughed and pulled some of my hair out from under the band of the headphones. “You could just call Ry directly. Uncle Rowdy did. He actually came by the house and picked him up today to go do some kind of football-slash-guy stuff. Ry seemed pretty happy to see him.”

My dad’s best friend Rowdy St. James, his wife Salem, and their two kids had moved down to Austin when I was in middle school, right around the time the twins were born. Rowdy, who worked with Ry’s dad and another friend from high school, Nash Donovan, had offered to move to Texas when Uncle Rule and Nash decided to open another tattoo shop outside of Colorado. They picked Austin because it was a hip town, filled with college kids and young professionals. The nightlife was crazy here, and many of the tattoo shops were open much later here than they were in Colorado. The fact that my folks were already based here was also a big factor. Both my Uncle Rowdy and his beautiful wife had grown up in a small town not too far from Austin, so it was a homecoming of sorts. I was friends with their daughter, Glory, but she was a competitive figure skater and always super busy. Her dedication to the sport actually reminded me a little bit of Ry. They had the same kind of drive and single-minded determination to be the very best at whatever they did. She was a bit intense for my taste, but we still hung out whenever her packed schedule allowed. I heard she was trying to qualify for the next Olympic trials, so I hadn’t seen or heard from her in a long time.

“I was going to call him, but your Uncle Rule told me not to. He wanted me to check up on Ry, but not let Ry know he was hovering. And I didn’t want to put the kid on the spot. I’ve known him since he was in diapers, but that doesn’t mean I’m cool with him camping out at my daughter’s place. I get that you’re on your way to being a grownup, but the idea of my baby girl being alone with any man… kicks all my fatherly instincts into overdrive.” He gave me a sheepish grin as he twirled the big platinum and diamond ring on his thumb around in a circle. “Why don’t you convince him to come with you over to the house for dinner one night? Your mom would love to see you both, and I’m sure Yves and Zola would be ecstatic to have the company. You know how stir-crazy they get in the summer.”

I rolled my eyes because I did know exactly how hyper the two teenage girls got when they were out of school for summer break. They used to go to summer camp or play sports when we didn’t go to Denver, but this year they were old enough to get part-time jobs, so I thought they wouldn’t be home as much. It sounded like they were still there enough to have my dad looking for a reprieve.

“I’ll see if he wants to come by. He’s probably tired of eating takeout. I don’t think he’s used to Texas-sized portions. He went jogging yesterday even though he’s technically on vacation and not supposed to be training, and he most definitely isn’t used to the Texas heat. He hasn’t decided when he’s going back to Denver yet, but I think he wants to hang around until after we play our first big show.” I wasn’t sure why, but the idea of having Ry in the crowd made me almost as anxious as knowing my dad would be there.

Things had been a bit awkward between us since we kissed outside the rehearsal space.

If I’d been thinking clearly and hadn’t been so irritated at Nyle, there is no way in hell I would’ve let my lips get anywhere near his. I knew just how dangerous it was. I knew exactly how quickly a simple kiss with him could spiral out of control. I knew how quickly I could lose my head when he had his hands and mouth on me.

The one good thing to come out of my impulsive action was Nyle definitely got the message to back off. He’d been sullen and moody at every practice since that night, but he’d stopped hounding. It was a shame he couldn’t stay in the friend-zone because I really did like him. I just wasn’t interested in him romantically. A fact made even more abundantly clear now that Ry was back in the picture.

Ry was the only boy who ever made me feel like my skin was too tight and like I couldn’t breathe just by being close to him. He was the only one who made my fingertips tingle and got me all kinds of curious and interested when other parts of my body that had always been disinterested started to feel warm and wide awake. I knew, logically, he was a very attractive guy, so it was normal to be attracted to him. I just couldn’t figure out why he was literally the only guy I’d ever wanted. I’d had to kiss a lot of substitutes to figure out the buzz underneath my skin only happened when Ry’s lips were on mine. I was determined to prove I could feel some kind of way about a guy who wasn’t him, but I’d yet to be successful—much to my endless frustration.

“How’s practice coming along? Are you getting excited for your first real show? I remember how nervous I was when we had our first big gig. I think I threw up at least three times before I went on stage, but once we were done with our set, I knew exactly what I was meant to do for the rest of my life.” He put a hand on his chest and tapped over his heart. “There’s nothing like playing live music in a packed venue.”

I took the headphones from around my neck and shifted my gaze away from his. I reached out to pick at the frayed knee of my jeans. “I’m super excited, but…” I’d had an uneasy feeling in my gut at each practice after Ry’s stinging words about our set being lackluster. “I’m starting to worry we might not be good enough.”

My dad frowned a little and leaned forward. “Why? You’ve always been so confident about your music and your specific sound. You’ve always known what you wanted to say with your songs. What changed?”

I deliberated on how much of the truth I should tell him. He was a fellow musician and would understand why I was concerned, but he was also my dad and could be overprotective. I didn’t want him to get upset at Ry for being honest when that was exactly what I’d asked him to do.

“I brought Ry to one of my practices. He wasn’t very impressed. Granted, we had a bit of an off night, but what he said about how we sounded got under my skin. He’s always managed to do that pretty easily, though.”

“Hmm… criticism is part of the game, baby girl. There is no such thing as a perfect song. Some people will love it, and it will change their lives. Some people will hate it and tell you that you should never sing again. Some people will be your fans from the very start and stick with you through thick and thin. Some will only be there at the start and lose interest as you grow and evolve. You gotta learn how to listen to what critics say without internalizing it.” He gave me a lopsided grin and reached out to smooth a piece of purple hair behind my ear. “I may have smacked a music reviewer or two before I learned that lesson myself. I know it’s hard to separate something you put your heart and soul into from the rest of your life and not let sharing it with others affect your self-worth. You’re a tough kid, and you’ve wanted this since you were little. I think you’ll be fine once you get a little more experience under your belt.”

I finally lifted my gaze back to his. “Ry didn’t say we were bad; he said I was better without them. He accused me of making songs that were easy to play just so I could perform with a band.”

“Wow.” My dad leaned back in the chair, making it rock. He laced his tattooed fingers together and rested them on his flat belly. “The kid’s just as blunt as his old man, isn’t he?”

I laughed a little and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I guess. The difference is, Uncle Rule says whatever’s on his mind to everyone with no exception. Ry only does it with me.”

How annoying was that?

My dad made a noise I couldn’t exactly decipher, but his expression turned speculative. “Well, I guess that means you’re special. Ry’s a smart guy. I’m not surprised he can see that you’re one of a kind. Keep in mind, he’s not a music expert. He’s a football player. His area of expertise is not the same as yours, so take his opinion with a grain of salt, unless you trust that he’s telling you something for your own good.”

I sighed heavily and let my head fall forward. I made a loose fist and knocked it against my forehead. “I was so mad at him when he said it, but now I can’t stop thinking about it. Those songs did sound different when I initially wrote them. When we play them now, it feels like they’re missing something. Almost like the heart of them has been ripped out. I don’t know that the average person would notice. I’m not even sure how Ry noticed. But now that I know, they seem so hollow. I can’t unhear the reverb.”

My dad grabbed the hand that I was using to lightly knock some sense into myself and pulled it away. He gave my fingers a squeeze and told me, “Being in a band requires a lot of compromise. You took on writing all the music, which means the rest of your bandmates are just trying to imitate what you want them to sound like. Maybe ask them for their input. If they get to add their own flair, they’ll feel more connected to the songs.” He lifted his eyebrows and gave me a hard look. “Or maybe Ry is right, and you guys aren’t a good fit. Being in a band should feel like being part of a family. Those are the people you’ll spend the most time with. They should share every success and failure you have equally. They should hold you up and catch you when you fall. If they aren’t making you better and pushing you to be the best musician you can be, then I agree with baby Archer. You’re better than them.”

The way he referred to Ry startled a laugh out of me. “Have you seen Ry since last year? He’s even taller and more ripped now. He’s definitely taller than you. He played a full season of college football, and all he does is practice and train. He’s a beast now…definitely not a baby.”

My dad’s dark eyebrows climbed even higher, if that were possible. “Don’t ever refer to any guy as ‘a beast’. My heart can’t take it, and I’ll end up knocking on your door in the middle of the night to make sure nothing funny is going on over there.”

I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not, so I assured him, “You know Ry and I don’t exactly click. You and Mom both gave me hell when I told you I didn’t want to go to Denver anymore and hang out with the kids there. I tried to tell you I wouldn’t regret it, but you never believed me. I already tried to kick him out and send him home, but like I said, he’s fucking huge. He’s not going anywhere until he’s good and ready.”

He frowned again. “The two of you chased each other around and had a grand old time when you were little. It used to be impossible to pull you away from one another, even if you were mostly arguing. You would scream and cry when we tried to move you if you fell asleep next to him. It was cute. It wasn’t until you got older that there started to be some friction between the two of you. Ry’s a naturally polite kid. I always wondered why you guys got all prickly and standoffish with one another. Your mom says it’s because you’re too much like his sister, but I’m not so sure about that.”

Of course, there was more to it than that. But I wasn’t about to tell him just how well Ry and I knew one another, or that as we’d gotten older, we’d done much more than sleep when we ended up in the same bed. I could imagine not only the look of abject horror on his face, but also how quickly he’d go in search of Ry to have a word or two. Like he said, I was on the way to being a grownup in his mind. I wasn’t there just yet.

“Some personalities just clash. We weren’t destined to be forever friends the way you and Mom are with the Archers.”

My dad clicked his tongue and reached for my abandoned headphones. I gave him a small smile when he slipped them back over my head, holding them away from my ears while he studied me thoughtfully for a long moment. “Fate is a really funny thing. You might think you know what it has in store for you, then out of nowhere, BOOM, you get the surprise of your life. Sometimes that surprise is the best thing to ever happen. Sometimes it’s pure shit. If you want to send me the audio of one of your practices, you know I’ll be happy to listen and offer any input.”

I shook my head a little since it was trapped between the earpieces. “No. I want you to hear us play for real.”

I never liked him to listen to my music unless I was one-hundred percent satisfied. I was always worried he would offer suggestions, and I would feel obligated to take them not only because he was my father, but because he was a musician I idolized. I didn’t want to lose who I was in my pursuit to become a musician he would be proud of.

He let go of the headphones, making them snap over my ears. He got to his feet and bent so he could drop a soft kiss on the top of my head. I couldn’t hear him anymore, so he used his hands to mime eating something, a silent reminder to drag Ry home for dinner and to see my mom.

I nodded and turned back to the setup in front of me.

I felt better after talking to my dad. I always did. But something he said stuck with me more than all the other advice and encouragement he offered.

Unless you trust that he has your best interest in mind… Ry’s opinion shouldn’t have fazed me in the slightest because he really was clueless when it came to music. I shrugged off anyone else who tried to tell me anything I didn’t want to hear when it came to my craft. I actually already had a thick coating of Teflon on my skin. My dad made sure I developed one before I started to play in front of other people.

However, I knew deep down he wouldn’t say anything hurtful that wasn’t for my own benefit. The truth hurt the most when it came from someone who honestly cared about you.

I had no idea what to do with that knowledge, or with the fact that every few minutes, I was still touching my lips and remembering what it felt like to kiss Ry Archer again after all these years.

It felt good.

Too damn good for my peace of mind.