Brennan was tapped out, and okay, he was a little depressed. He’d had enormous success, beyond his wildest dreams. But somehow the grueling road tours, the selfish beauties, the constant stream of women wanting to suck his dick, the artistic differences with someone whose opinion he highly valued, and the loss of a good friend to drugs were not exactly how he’d imagined his career unfolding.
Brennan didn’t know who he was anymore. He didn’t know where he was supposed to be going with all of this. He couldn’t even say with any confidence what sort of music he wanted to make at this stage of his life. He needed some peace and quiet away from it all to think .
He needed to be here, in this little town on a peaceful lake, in his mother’s house, because no one here knew Brennan Yates.
But his mother seemed determined to get deep into his business. “Think about how much you sleep,” she said, apparently thinking his silence was an invitation to keep talking. “Think how much you’ve been drinking lately, how you have no enthusiasm for anything . Not music, not girls. You aren’t working—when is the last time you picked up a guitar?” she stubbornly continued. “I get it, I do,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart. “I was very depressed when you were born.”
Brennan snorted. “Gee, thanks.”
“And there have been other times, if you want to know the truth. But you , Brennan! You’ve never been depressed. You’ve always been my rock. You’ve had such a brilliant career and a life I could never have imagined for you and I am scared to death you’re going to let it all slip away because you’re depressed. Your father was like that, but he—”
“Don’t bring him up,” Brennan said curtly.
His mother sighed heavily. “Will we ever be allowed to talk about him?”
God, how could she gloss over it? He felt a painful prick every time she mentioned his dad, like an old wound that appeared to be healed over, but was easily opened with the wrong move. “I don’t know, Mom. Seems like the time to talk about him was before he died.”
She colored. She sniffed. “All I want to do is help,” she said.
“Don’t help me, Mom,” Brennan said. “I came here because I thought, for once, I could have a little refuge from all the bullshit. I thought this would be the one goddamn place on earth I could be me . Not Everett. Brennan . But you’ve been dogging me since the day I showed up.”
“That’s not true. I know you must be hurting. I know you loved Jenna—”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” he said angrily. “Mother, listen to me. I was not in love with Jenna. I may have loved her at some point, maybe , but I doubt it, and if I did, it was a very long time ago. I haven’t felt anything but resentment for months. I knew what she was doing. I knew she was using me for publicity and sleeping with her costars. And you know what, Mom? I could have ended it last fall, but it was a hell of a lot easier just to finish the fucking tour and then dump her. I’m glad to be rid of her.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. She chewed on the inside of her mouth a moment as she considered him. “Then what about your music?” she asked, her voice softer. “What about the gift God has given you and no one else? The world is waiting. Your band is waiting.”
Brennan suddenly felt bone-weary. As if he’d been carrying a boulder on his back for a very long time. “The world and the band can go to hell,” he said low. He swiped up his beer and took a long swig.
The truth was that Brennan didn’t know about his music. Chance and he weren’t seeing eye to eye on the artistic direction. Chance and the band’s manager, Gary, were angling for more commercial music. They’d included some on the last album, against Brennan’s wishes, and the album had gone platinum. Give the masses what they want, Chance said. But Brennan couldn’t feel it—it wasn’t in him. He truly felt
Brennan didn’t know who he was anymore. He didn’t know where he was supposed to be going with all of this. He couldn’t even say with any confidence what sort of music he wanted to make at this stage of his life. He needed some peace and quiet away from it all to think .
He needed to be here, in this little town on a peaceful lake, in his mother’s house, because no one here knew Brennan Yates.
But his mother seemed determined to get deep into his business. “Think about how much you sleep,” she said, apparently thinking his silence was an invitation to keep talking. “Think how much you’ve been drinking lately, how you have no enthusiasm for anything . Not music, not girls. You aren’t working—when is the last time you picked up a guitar?” she stubbornly continued. “I get it, I do,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart. “I was very depressed when you were born.”
Brennan snorted. “Gee, thanks.”
“And there have been other times, if you want to know the truth. But you , Brennan! You’ve never been depressed. You’ve always been my rock. You’ve had such a brilliant career and a life I could never have imagined for you and I am scared to death you’re going to let it all slip away because you’re depressed. Your father was like that, but he—”
“Don’t bring him up,” Brennan said curtly.
His mother sighed heavily. “Will we ever be allowed to talk about him?”
God, how could she gloss over it? He felt a painful prick every time she mentioned his dad, like an old wound that appeared to be healed over, but was easily opened with the wrong move. “I don’t know, Mom. Seems like the time to talk about him was before he died.”
She colored. She sniffed. “All I want to do is help,” she said.
“Don’t help me, Mom,” Brennan said. “I came here because I thought, for once, I could have a little refuge from all the bullshit. I thought this would be the one goddamn place on earth I could be me . Not Everett. Brennan . But you’ve been dogging me since the day I showed up.”
“That’s not true. I know you must be hurting. I know you loved Jenna—”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” he said angrily. “Mother, listen to me. I was not in love with Jenna. I may have loved her at some point, maybe , but I doubt it, and if I did, it was a very long time ago. I haven’t felt anything but resentment for months. I knew what she was doing. I knew she was using me for publicity and sleeping with her costars. And you know what, Mom? I could have ended it last fall, but it was a hell of a lot easier just to finish the fucking tour and then dump her. I’m glad to be rid of her.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. She chewed on the inside of her mouth a moment as she considered him. “Then what about your music?” she asked, her voice softer. “What about the gift God has given you and no one else? The world is waiting. Your band is waiting.”
Brennan suddenly felt bone-weary. As if he’d been carrying a boulder on his back for a very long time. “The world and the band can go to hell,” he said low. He swiped up his beer and took a long swig.
The truth was that Brennan didn’t know about his music. Chance and he weren’t seeing eye to eye on the artistic direction. Chance and the band’s manager, Gary, were angling for more commercial music. They’d included some on the last album, against Brennan’s wishes, and the album had gone platinum. Give the masses what they want, Chance said. But Brennan couldn’t feel it—it wasn’t in him. He truly felt
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