Page 30 of Playing the Backbeat
I don’t need coffee. I am the stimulant.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Well, Deanna. It’s a ceramic mug with hot water and loose-leaf tea, steeped with a splash of—”
“I don’t mean the tea? Why are you doing all this?”
He pauses. “Don’t overthink it. I live here. I eat breakfast. You live here, and as far as I know, you eat breakfast. Despite the multiple mornings I’ve seen you run out of here with nothing more than a granola bar and a Gatorade.”
“Why wake up early, when I can sleep in, snooze my alarm seven times, and then panic for ten minutes about being late while rushing out the door?” I ask, blowing cool air into my mug.
“Sounds awful.”
“You mean exhilarating.” I wink.
He shakes his head, amusement clearly winning out, though I watch carefully as he tries to hide it.
He plates the bacon and toast and then strides over to his bedroom door, signaling to Emi it’s time to eat.
Silence follows, and then I watch as she high-fives Dylan on her way back into the kitchen, giving her shoulders a little stretch and wiggle, Dylan’s headphones still draped around her neck.
“Sorry, my guy. Had to work out a rhythm that was keeping me up last night.” She yawns dramatically.
“Funny,” I say, leaning back in my stool, mug in hand, warmth seeping into my fingertips. “I could have sworn I heard you snoring the moment your head hit the pillow.”
“Dee, Dee. We both knowyou’rethe snorer,” Emi says, scooching up onto the stool next to me. “Mom gave me earplugs months ago, but I can’t sleep with those in my ears.”
Dylan doesn’t hide his laugh well enough, so he tries to save it by forcing a drink of coffee, failing. He ends up choking on his sip. I flip him off behind Emi’s back and mouth,Karma’s a bitch.
He nods, coughing into his fist for a minute before clearing his throat and taking a sip of water.
I hear a key struggling in the lock of my front door, then Morgan and Kai make their way into the apartment, huge smiles on their faces. Emi yells in excitement and runs into their arms.
Dylan grabs two more plates from the cabinet, holding them up when they join us in the kitchen. “You two hungry?”
“Oh no, but thank you. We grabbed our favorite breakfast sandwiches on the way over. It’s tradition for us now. We would have brought some for you three, but Dee texted us to let us know you already had breakfast covered,” Morgan says.
“How was last night?” Kai asks.
“Dad. It. Was. Amazing,” Emi nearly screams, then runs out of the room. She’s back two seconds later with Dylan’s drumsticks in hand, arms reached high above her head, sticks crossed in anXin the air. “You are now looking at amusician.”
“Ooooh, druuuums.” Morgan drags the words out, zeroing her look of disdain on me.
I hold up one hand defensively, limited by the mug in the other, before pointing at Dylan. “It was him. Blame him.”
“I thought you were taking the fall for this,” he mutters as Morgan levels her gaze at him, the disdain intensifying. Shit, even I forgot how scary she can be. It runs in the family, I guess.
“That was before you laughed at my snoring. Sucks to suck, fucker,” I hiss, jumping off my stool, standing next to Emi and glaring at him. “Yeah, what the fuck is this, Dylan?”
“I—She—You—you said it was fine!” he shouts, panic clear in his tone.
“Me?” I yell back.
“Oh, save it, Dee,” Morgan mumbles. “You and I both know that you wouldn’t stop Emi if she was really enjoying herself.” She releases a heavy sigh, arms crossing, leaning back against the counter as Emi drags Kai into Dylan’s bedroom and startsexplaining the electric drum set in detail. “And neither would we.”
“You’re going to cave this time?”
“Doesn’t seem like we have another choice,” she muses. She may play the part of annoyed parent, but when it comes to Kai and Morgan, when Emi is serious about following an interest, they always support her, and then some.
