Page 14 of August Lane

“There’s a sell-by date on those things.” Mavis looked at August. “I hope you told him where to go.”

“Poured hot coffee on his dick.”

Mavis’s mouth fell open. “How hot?”

“It was at King’s.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Oh. Okay.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with that coffeepot,” Silas grumbled. He glanced at the flyers. “And I’m not putting those in my window until you put that money back into the showcase budget. If not, thanks for stopping by.”

August looked at Mavis. “What money? What’s he talking about?”

Mavis glared at Silas and then forced a smile for August’s benefit.

“Your mother’s concert is a huge opportunity for the city, so we revised the festival budget to capitalize on it.

” Her voice had a CEO edge to it, which always happened when her cousin was in charge of something.

Her competitive nature hadn’t subsided once she stopped playing volleyball.

If there was a brass ring to win, Mavis wanted it.

Now she’d decided that Jojo’s concert was the key.

“Revised meaning gutted,” Silas said. “I’ve got no support for the showcase. No ads. No signage. Word of mouth won’t work, either. All anyone’s talking about is Jojo.” He waved Mavis away. “Cancel it.”

“No!” August moved to block Mavis from his view.

“Your showcase is the festival. Everyone knows it. The other shows are just cash grabs and publicity. The real music gets played here.” August thought about the previous showcases she’d attended.

The event had a reputation that bordered on myth.

People used to say that performing there brought good luck, as evidenced by the number of people who’d signed with publishers and producers after the show.

That ended with the pandemic, when the festival was canceled and later downsized out of caution.

This year was supposed to be their big comeback, a return to how things were before.

But the showcase wasn’t on people’s radar anymore.

After the Black Lives Matter protests, larger festivals committed to being more inclusive.

The musicians that would have normally flocked to Delta Blue were booking gigs at higher-profile events instead.

“I think your mother would take issue with you calling her Hall of Fame celebration a cash grab.” Mavis gave August the same concerned look she did yesterday while banning her from church. “When was the last time you spoke to her?”

August ignored the question. If she admitted that she and Jojo weren’t speaking, they would want to know why, and she wasn’t ready to discuss that with anyone.

“He’s right.” She grabbed a flyer advertising Jojo’s show and waved it around.

“You need to focus on the showcase instead of—” Her eyes caught on a list of names beneath Jojo’s photo. “What the hell is this?”

Silas grabbed a copy. He read it, then gave August a warning look that told her to calm down. She swallowed hard and did her best to comply. “Is Luke opening for my mother?”

Mavis looked like she’d been asked to swallow a frog. “This is what I was trying to figure out how to tell you. He’s not just opening. They’re performing a song together.”

August kept her eyes on the flyer. She had to ask. But she didn’t want them to see her face when she heard the answer. “Which song?”

Hey, it’s Ethan. Leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you. Promise.

Luke listened to his brother’s voicemail with the weight of ten bricks on his chest. He tried to focus on the road, keep both hands on the wheel until the feeling subsided. It always did once he accepted that Ethan’s promise applied to everyone but him.

“It’s me,” Luke said, elevating his voice for the speakerphone.

“You won’t believe where I am right now.

” He scanned his surroundings, taking in the sprawl of his family’s land on either side of his truck.

“You’ve probably already seen the news. Or maybe not.

Big-time doctors don’t have much time to waste scrolling online.

I’m back in Arcadia. Doing a concert with Jojo Lane. ”

He tried to gather his thoughts. If he wasn’t careful, the message would devolve into a messy stream of consciousness, things he wanted to tell his brother in person instead of through a recording.

But it had been six years since Ethan returned his calls.

Six years since his brother said he was done watching Luke kill himself slowly.

Luke had been in denial at first. He would send unanswered texts and tell himself that while Ethan was angry now, he’d eventually relent the way he always did.

Then a year went by, and Luke panicked. He showed up unannounced at Ethan’s house and was met by his apologetic husband, who gently suggested he wait to be invited before showing up for a visit.

When Luke finished rehab, he’d immediately called Ethan and left a message announcing his sobriety with the smugness of someone who had no idea what it meant.

He received no congratulations. No acknowledgment that he’d slain the dragon that had destroyed their relationship.

But Ethan hadn’t blocked or changed his number, either, so Luke became caught in a painful loop.

Something good would happen and he’d immediately think this was it.

This was the thing that would make a difference.

Today, it was the concert. He thought Ethan might be proud of him for coming home.

“On my way out to the farm right now. Wish you were here,” Luke said. “You’re still better at handling Mom than me.”

He cleared his throat. “I’ll have some tickets on hold for you if you want to come down to the festival.” He glanced at the clock and realized how long he’d been talking. “Love you,” he mumbled, then disconnected.

Luke slowed to a stop when he reached a metal sign with RANDALL written on it in peeling vinyl letters.

The farm was emptier than it should be this time of year.

The ranchers Ava leased the land to would typically be preparing for calving season and relocating livestock to give the pastures a rest. Now there were new fences and keep-out signs from a large oil and gas company, which meant she’d sold off more of the mineral rights to pay her bills.

When the house came into view, Luke barely recognized it.

The bones were there, but the bottom half of the brick split-level was being devoured by neglected landscaping.

Deep cracks lined the concrete steps that led up to the front door, and one of the living room shutters had nearly fallen off its hinges.

He stared at that window a while before pressing the doorbell, which didn’t make a sound.

It was a sign, right? He’d played the dutiful son and could leave.

Wasn’t this bare minimum of effort all he owed her?

His answer was footfalls on the other side of the door. Ava smiled broadly when she saw him, her golden irises swallowed by blown, glistening pupils. Whatever painkiller she’d taken was doing its job, numbing her giddy.

“You’re here!” She kissed his cheek and waved him in.

The house smelled like Lysol and lemon Pledge, which meant she’d just finished cleaning.

Only, it wasn’t clean. A few surfaces gleamed from her efforts, but the furniture was stained and sagging, the carpet in similar shape.

A musty smell undermined her attempts to control the odor.

The windows were covered with the same heavy curtains he grew up with, which turned the house into a dingy cave.

As a child, Luke was so used to existing in darkness that he found it comforting.

That’s what he’d been doing when August found him that night at the county fair, using the dark to calm his fears.

Part of his recovery had been turning to the light.

At home, his shades were always open. He exercised outside.

He did yard work for a local shelter so he could spend hours with the sun on his skin.

“Let me look at you.” Ava’s eyes swept over him. “You cut your hair off.”

“I do that every summer.”

She nodded, twisting her hands. “Makes sense. It’s so hot out there, isn’t it? Like we’re being punished for something.” She grabbed the small dime on a chain around her neck. The charm was supposed to protect her from demons. “That beard makes you look even more like him.”

Luke was tempted to feign ignorance so that she’d be forced to say his father’s name. They both knew how much he favored Jason Randall. Luke was only four when his father died, but he had seen enough photos to know they could be mistaken for brothers now.

“Where’s your suitcase? I can take it to your room.” Ava spun around, searching.

“In the truck.” Luke eyed the foot and leg massagers on her couch. “Do those help?”

Ava glanced at them and said, “A little,” while rubbing her arms like she’d caught a chill.

Luke was sweating. She always kept the house uncomfortably warm because the cold worsened her condition.

Luke and Ethan used to accuse her of being cheap.

Years later, after her fibromyalgia diagnosis, they realized it was just another way of coping with her chronic pain.

“Are you excited to be home?” She rushed past him and picked up a copy of People magazine with Jojo Lane on the cover. “I bought this at Kroger yesterday. Thought they’d have a picture of you, but…” She flipped it open and pointed to his name in a small text box. “There you are!”

Luke took the magazine and turned it over in his hands. “I didn’t know they still sold these in print.”

“Me neither. But I’m glad they do. Charlotte must be so proud of you. How is she? Is she coming to the concert?”

Luke put the magazine on the table. “We’re getting divorced.”

Ava sucked in a breath. “What?” She looked at his hand and saw the missing wedding band. “When did this happen?”