Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 78142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“He’s the drummer. My brother-in-law, Jesse Pike, is one of the lead singers.”
“Yeah, congratulations. I heard you just came back from a triple wedding.”
“Quadruple, actually. My sister, Bree, and three of my cousins married four siblings from a neighboring ranch. It was a big affair.”
“I’ll bet.” Ronnie shoves two keycards in her reader, digitally embedding them. Then she hands them to me. “These should get him everywhere he needs to go.”
“Thank you.” I grab the cards. “I’ll tell him to come down as soon as he can to give you his ID.”
“Great.” She smiles wide. “Thanks, Diana. Enjoy your weekend.”
“I will. It’ll be my last free time for a while.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I start a new job, my first as an associate architect, on Monday. I’m hoping to get assigned to a really big project, so I’ll be working at least sixty hours a week. Maybe more.”
“Don’t forget to take some time for you, okay?”
“Thanks, I’ll try.” I give her a wave as I leave.
Chapter Eight
Dragon
This last stint in rehab put me through a high-speed wash cycle and hung me out to dry.
I don’t like to think about my past. I don’t talk about it to anyone. Even Jesse doesn’t know everything, and there are a few things that are such a blur, I’m not even sure exactly what happened.
But for the most part, it’s out on the table now.
All starting with Griffin’s birth. That pretty baby my parents brought home.
Everyone doted on her. Within two months, she had morphed into the most beautiful thing any of us had ever seen. Bright-blue eyes, a fuzzy bald head that was starting to sprout cotton-candy blond hair. Chubby red cheeks, full pink lips, and a toothless smile that melted my heart.
She smiled the most for me.
Even my mother noticed that. “Look at that, Felix. I’m the one who carried that child inside me for nine months, had terrible morning sickness and high blood pressure, and she only smiles for him.”
“It’s not a reflection on you, Stevie,” Dad would say. “She just loves her big brother, and he loves her. Is that such a bad thing?”
Mom would sulk for a few minutes, but then it would be time to nurse Griffin, and she’d get the alone time she wanted with her daughter.
That was when Dad and I had our time. It was my father who gave me my first drum. The memory collides into my mind, and though I try to stop it, it unfolds in technicolor inside my head.
“Son, I got a bonus at work the other day. I brought you a present.”
I jump up and down, clapping my hands. “I love presents!”
“I know you do, Dragon, and we don’t have a lot of money for presents, but with Griffin arriving, and her getting all the attention, I thought you might like something for yourself.”
He presents me with a large box wrapped in paper with dragons printed on it.
I rip the paper off, open the box, and inside—
“Oh, wow! A drum!”
Dad smiles warmly. “Yes, it’s a drum, Dragon. When you were a little boy, still in your highchair, you used to bang your hands on the tray, and I swear to God, I heard rhythm in your creations. I said to your mother, ‘Stevie, that boy is going to be a drummer.’”
Dad pulls the drum out of the box and sets it in front of me.
I start beating it with my fists. Bang, bang, bang. Thud, thud, thud.
“You use these.” Dad hands me two wooden sticks.
I take each of them in a fist and bang on the drum. This time it clicks, like a snapping sound. I like it.
Dad smiles. “You’ll get the hang of it. You’re young yet, but someday I think you’re going to be a mighty fine drummer.”
I don’t care about being a drummer. All I care about is that I got a present. My daddy bought me a present, and it makes me feel good. All warm inside. Because ever since Griffin was born, she seems to get all the presents. Mom and Dad say that’s what happens when you bring a new baby into the house, and that I got just as many presents when I was born. I don’t remember any of that, though, so I’m not sure I believe it.
My new drum is red and shiny. The top is white and shiny, and the lines on the sides are silver.
“It’s called a snare drum, Dragon.”
“Snare drum,” I growl. “Sounds like a snarl.”
“Kind of,” Dad says, “but the drum has nothing to do with snarling. The snare drum is a central piece in a drum set.”
“Drum set?”
“Yeah. That’s a collection of different drums and other things that are used in lots of music. But the snare drum is the best drum to learn the basic rhythms on, especially at your age.”