GRIT (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 2) (10 page)

“Yes, actually after the holidays, the beginning of January,” the man clarified, impeccable in one of his fine suits.

“Yeah, January. You can live wherever you want for a while. Stay in New York; we’ll keep flying you out at first, but we tour at least four months out of the year, and usually with at least three other bands, depending on the line up. That’s a lot of time to be away from home, and we practice a lot, too. So that means by next summer, you need to be based in Michigan.”

Zenith kept a straight face, exuding a calmness that was a lie and a damn half. His heart beat beneath his damn chest, and he wanted to kick himself for not thinking this shit completely through. A part of him didn’t even truly believe he’d make it this far. Things were happening so fast, he was at a loss. A mixture of excitement, apprehension, and determination formed a strange cocktail inside him, creating relief and worry, all at once.

“Alright, I understand.” He kept that brave face—refused to relinquish it, let it go.

“We want you, Zenith.” Leigh got up from his seat, emphasizing his statement. “We’ll try to work with you until you can get settled. I think you’d make a real nice addition to our band. And based on our conversations on the phone and our meeting when you first got here, we’ve got a similar sense of humor; you seem to understand some shit without me explaining it to you. You’ve never been a part of an actual rock band though, so that may take some getting used to, but Steve said he’s heard you play everything from heavy metal to rap.”

“I have… We’ve even done a little country, too.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. I like it. I like it. Steve wants to talk to you about some things, right?” Leigh stretched his arms to the ceiling and yawned. “Too early for this shit…”

“Yes, let me make a couple of calls first though.”

Zenith got up as well, still gripping his drumsticks like lifelines. On a swallow, he rushed from behind the drums and made a mad dash to Silver.

I need her…

His craving was overwhelming; he simply didn’t know what to do with himself. Before he could burst the studio back door open, she appeared. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she hugged him close and squeezed.

“You… did…
amazing
!” She took a good look at him, eyes swelling with pride, then went back to squeezing. She kissed him.

“Yeah?” He smiled at her, and kissed her again.

“Yeah!” She rolled her eyes and laughed. “You know you did good. Stop goofing off!”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

She burst out laughing and playfully punched his shoulder.

“Silver.” He leaned toward her, glanced over his shoulder, then back in her direction. “I don’t know what I thought would happen or wouldn’t happen… but I don’t know if I can do this.”

She looked at him as if he’d told her he hailed from another world and was there to take over the damn planet.

“Have you lost your mind?! Pop Evil has flown your ass up here to audition you and snatched you up on the spot! Do you know how many people would kill for this opportunity?”

“Silver… what about Paw? I didn’t think I’d need to move. That’s so stupid, but it’s true! I can’t move him out of New York. I can’t force him to live in Michigan. I can’t leave him for four or five month intervals…and what about
us
?! I can’t expect you to stay with me while I’m gone so long… I love you too much to ask you to mess your life up for me. You’ve got major shit going on right now. It’s not like you’re only temping at a factory or something and would be happy to leave. This is crazy.” He shook his head, disgusted and disappointed.

She searched his face and he let her, both of them traveling the private highways and byways of their own coveted thoughts. Her smooth, tender touch ran the length of his cheek, up and down, until he grabbed her hand, kissed her palm, and slowly closed his eyes.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, Zenith, but what I do know is that you’ll figure it out. I’ll help you. I love you, and love means helping each other along the way, figure out the difficult things, and being there. You need some time to think, okay? Don’t you tell these guys ‘no’!” she warned.

“I didn’t.” He frowned. “I’m just telling you this between you and me—this is going too fast, and I’m in trouble if I don’t figure this shit out. I can fake it until I make it, but eventually written contracts are going to come flying my way, and they’ll call my bluff. I can’t mess up Paw’s life like this. I don’t even know how much longer he has.” He sighed. “His last years should be fairly peaceful, not being left with strangers again. I don’t trust anyone to watch him except for Denise after what happened but if I’m gone all the time, he’d need more than just her… and I know she wouldn’t come to Michigan, so I’d be starting from scratch.”

“I know, Zenith… I know. Look, let’s talk about this later. Right now, you need to pretend like you’re on board. Don’t shoot this opportunity in the foot. You just got it.”

“What about
our
opportunity, huh?” He trailed his finger slowly down the side of her face. “You’re not getting away from me, Silver. I’m not letting you go. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but you’ve got to be with me, every step of the way, or I can’t do this. I can’t take you away, but I can’t let you stay. I’m stuck.”

He hugged her tight. She kissed his nose and smiled.

“We’ll discuss it, figure something out, just like I said.”

“That’s not a good enough answer… but…” He sighed. “We’ll get back to this later.” He winked at her, then reluctantly released her to re-enter the studio. The group mulled about, talking amongst themselves. Steve approached him, a crimped grin on his face.

“Mr. Taylor, come with me, please…” The man led him away to a back office. Before the door closed, Zenith snuck a look at Silver. There she stood in her snow-white jogging suit and pristine black and white Nikes. Her hair was pulled back in a low afro puff, and kinky spindles of hair framed her gorgeous, oval shaped face. In that moment, images of their lovemaking in the shower earlier that morning fractured his thoughts. As he’d moved inside her, he’d promised her things, things he meant from the bottom of his heart. Nothing would make him break those promises, not even a record deal and an opportunity of a lifetime…

In this life, Silver was his lifeline. She awakened him, made him see the world in a way he’d never dreamed possible. In facing his loss and pain, he was found and healed. In assisting one another, and allowing each other to simply
be
, they’d become complete. He didn’t just want the woman; he
needed
her. She was his gig, his grind. She was his fire against metal and his metal against wood as music erupted from his very core.

Paw and Silver were his humble beginnings and fantastic future. Nothing before them or after them quite mattered, and the reality of this sunk in faster than Javier had walked out on him. He hung his head as the door closed completely, locking and blocking his silver lining in the midst of great pressure and bountiful blessings. He stood there, praying silently.

“Mr. Taylor, please have a seat. We have a lot to discuss today…”

Paw always says,
“There are four seasons…” But he never means it in the way one would think. I always respond in a flippant way and name the obvious, and he always corrects me, reminds me of the religion of our people, and the importance of metamorphosis…

Zenith sat at his grandfather’s bed and rested his chin upon steepled fingers. He’d only been back in town for a few hours, but after taking Silver home, all he wanted to do was see the man, make sure he was okay. The audition and visit to Michigan proved to be emotionally taxing, downright draining. He prepared to tell Steve that after careful deliberation, things were not conducive to his needs, but then Silver’s voice rang out in his mind…

‘Don’t you tell these people ‘no’!’

As they lay together in the hotel room, huddled close together, naked and a bit cold but wrapped snugly under the sheets, he played with a cluster of her curls and questioned her love for him. It was a horrible feeling, tinged with the type of insecurity he’d only read about.

Was he going insane? How could she force him into the limelight, knowing she’d possibly be left behind? Did she no longer care? Why would she give up? Perhaps he was thinking about it all wrong… perhaps it was just as he’d first imagined. This was truly the ultimate act of love—sacrificing the relationship, killing it at the bud, so that something new could flourish. His thoughts kept roaming, growing, dying, and starting all over again. She fell asleep in his arms, and all he could do was hold her, kiss her, love her.

He left the room and went to sit at the side of the old man, listening to him snore. At that moment, it proved no longer annoying; it no longer got under skin, got on top of his nerves or inside of his dreams, poisoning them with strange reverberations. It became Paw’s music, proof that he was alive. Proof that a piece of him still resided on Earth, proof that he was still there to cherish and nurture. He slumbered, unaware of Zenith’s presence. Much like Silver, peaceful, hidden away in a world he didn’t quite understand. The light blue and white striped pajamas he wore covered his broad chest as his stomach rose up and down in rhythmic waves.

His worn, hard working hands lay crisscrossed over his slightly protruding gut. A soft, white light from the street shined in through his window, highlighting the wiry nose hairs that flapped about in his nostrils after each jagged breath. It was a humorous sight, but comforting all the same. Paw smelled of glycerin soap and Bengay, mingled with a bit of minty toothpaste, too.

Smells, scents, aromas…

Silver’s perfume.

The oily odor in her kitchen that lingered days after she’d dissembled her motorcycle…

The aroma of Mawmaw’s homemade vegetable stew and the floral fragrance Mom wore when he was a child…

He remembered them well, and they all held a special place in his heart. Scents wrote memories—memories that faded like watercolor paintings left out in the sun. They disappeared, vanished due to a disease called dementia. Dementia festered, morphing into a worse monster named Alzheimer’s, and both demanded their time inside of Paw, tearing him down, brick by brick. Nothing could get rid of their presence—the sight of them, their sound, and their scent.

Denise had cleaned the house from top to bottom, and a faint trace of bleach and freesia permeated the air. Running a hand over Paw’s head, he relaxed a bit as he felt the soft, silver mane, now reaching the middle of his slightly sloped back. Denise took the time to detangle and shampoo the tresses. He’d meant to get up after a while; to go on about his way once he made sure Paw was comfortable and resting well. Instead, he rested his head on the old man’s leg, crossing his arms along Paw’s knee, and pressing his forehead into his forearms. Before he knew it, his brain slowed down, stopped overthinking and simply faded to black.

He fell asleep with the moon and the streetlights aglow, the snow drifting outside, and the memories of yesteryear dancing lazily in his mind, in the form of the sweetest of dreams on Earth…