Page 92 of Sing Your Secrets
“He’s meeting Dad in the studio, tomorrow. I was telling him what time to come by. I told him you were sick, and he was concerned.”
Petey nods as he sets the water bottle down on the coffee table and reaches behind him to pull a throw blanket over his torso. “He’s a nice guy. I met him yesterday.”
I know.“Yeah, when you told him you bought The Garage for your girl. Miles and I are friends Petey, we talk.”
“Shit.” The fabric of the couch cinches beneath him as Petey sinks lower into his seat. He covers his eyes with one hand. “That was…I just…” Dropping his hand, he looks me dead in the eyes with a sleepy, pathetic look. “Lied. I’m sorry. It was wishful thinking, like if I said it, it’d make it more true. I didn’t think it meant anything to anyone—I didn’t even know you knew him when I said it.”
His throaty cough comes through as a loud bellow. He covers what he can with his elbow and the blanket, but it’s too late. I’m sure this virus has already snuck its way into my system one way or the other. “Petey, that sounds awful. Let’s just talk another time.”
“No, I want to explain. Now.”
Leaning back into the armrest on the opposite side of the couch, I give him my most unimpressed look. “Go ahead.” Explain this one away…
“My mom reached out about eight months ago…”
My upper-hand, make-him-grovel demeanor instantly dissipates. “Oh my God…what? What the hell could she have to say?” I’m so loud that my voice echoes off the walls of the spacious, open-concept main room. This really isn’t a penthouse…it’s a freaking estate.
“Just bullshit,” Petey says, his eyes dropping low as the corners of his lips turn down. “She got through to me on social media of all things. At first, I thought it was a hoax, but it was her all right.”
“What did she want?”
“What do you think? Money. It’s always about money when it comes to me. The funny thing is, she didn’t even apologize for abandoning a sixteen-year-old kid. She started spouting some shit about how she was in a bad place and knew I’d do better on my own, and look at you now, Peter”—his tone grows mocking—“I just needed to give you space and look what you made of yourself. I’m so proud of you.”
“Shut the fuck up. She did not say that.” My blood boils. It’s not my battle to fight, but I hate that woman with my whole heart. How many nights did I comfort her son because she threw him away like he meant nothing?
“Yeah, and when that shit didn’t work on me, she started spewing out how I owe her, and she got me to sixteen, and it was time for me to pay her back.”
I bury my face in my hands. “Unbelievable. Did you block her?”
“Nah,” Petey scoffs. “I just left her stuff on read and watched her spiral. You should’ve seen the nasty, hateful shit she sent.”
“Sounds like she’s on—”
“Drugs. Yeah…” He covers his mouth as he coughs again. “That’s what I was thinking too.”
“Petey…I…” I watch the wall over his shoulder, unwilling to look him in the eyes and have this statement mean more than it should. “From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry. She should’ve done better. She doesn’t deserve you. And you don’t owe her anything.”
“I know,” he mutters. “But it got me thinking about my real family.” He sucks in his lips and holds his forehead against his fist, either in pain from his flu-like symptoms or his aching heart—I’m not sure. “If Parker were alive, he would’ve snatched up my phone and tossed it out the window before he let me hear anything Mom had to say. But he died, and none of my homeboys understood how that woman could rattle me. I’d already been getting the side eye because I had nothing in the studio. Everything was just…” He trails off and reaches for his water.
After guzzling down half the bottle, he speaks a little more clearly. “I started forgetting why I did all this in the first place. I have all this money, but I have a whole team who tells me how I should be spending it. I have to pump out songs on a schedule and there’s no heart to it anymore. I don’t feel inspired. I don’t feel like what I’m saying matters. Nothing is for real. Nothing is honest. I am starting to hate what my life has become.”
“You bought The Garage as an act of rebellion? Just to spend your money how you want?”
“Sort of,” he says with a chuckle. “D thinks it’s the stupidest thing to invest in, but I put my foot down. I’ve been thinking about a time when I felt good about my life, about myself. It was when I was living with Mac and performing at The Garage, and…” He licks his chapped lips. “The last time I can remember that you loved me.”
I tuck my knees into my chest, wishing there was another blanket I could use. A chill washes over me. I pictured this conversation so many times—never once did I imagine it being this tame. I pictured screaming and hurtling glass items at his head. “I loved you for a long time after we left Denver, Petey. I loved you for a long time after I left Atlanta too.”
“You left me when it got hard.”
I feel my anger rise. “I left when you started disrespecting me. Then, I came home, and I started disrespecting myself when I let you drag me through the mud. You’d give me hope, then snuff it out. You changed. You became this shallow, sniveling, money-hungry, fame-thirsty excuse of a human being. I didn’t leave you, Petey. The man I loved, disappeared.”
My fists are balled up at my sides like I’m ready for battle. I don’t care how sick he is, I will not take the blame for the wreckage of our relationship. I see right through the gaslighting. No matter what lame excuses come out of his mouth—
“You’re right.”
What?I swallow the words I have prepared to put him right in his place.
“You’re right. I lost myself. You guys were my family. I traded you and my soul for something that ended up meaning nothing. I’m alone, and I did that. I broke us. It was my fault and I have no excuses.”