Page 58 of Love Scenes

Melanie slowly chews her kale, not looking up. Tyler’s eyes flicker from me to Guy. She’s waiting for pushback. Or for me to voice my frustration that she tattled on me to Mom.

Guy kisses Mom’s hand. “I’ve been alive for all these years, and there’s still so much I don’t know. Lucky for me, I have people who are willing to teach me.”

He looks around the table, holding silent communion with each of us. This is the reason Guy’s reputation has stood the test of time when so many of his contemporaries have fallen. Guy Cicero is willing to stretch. To bend. To understand.

“I’m sorry for stealing your dinnertime. Sometimes inspiration strikes. And sometimes it dies!” He grabs a piece of bread off Mom’s plate and takes a bite. “It’s the bravery that counts, isn’t it?”

Joseph makes a point to look directly at me, and I don’t even want to think about why. If he thinks he’s being discreet, he’s about as subtle as an air horn. Now that he’s looked at me like that, I stare at my dinner plate and take several focused bites.

“This reminds me, honey, who’s playing at the gala this year?” Mom asks me.

I’m about to sayDaniel Traverson’s jam bandwhen I realize that of course he can’t play at my gala. He can’t be anywhere nearthis event with his custom powder-blue Les Paul and his ability to strum three clumsy chords. Last year Daniel got Keanu Reeves on bass at the last minute, which was huge. We needed a second guitarist, so I threw Kearns in there. The entire car ride home, Kearns ragged on Daniel’s playing.

“Keanu and me carried that whole fucking thing,” he’d said, and I laughed at him. No one cared how it sounded. It was about the fun of watching all these random famous people do Beatles covers. That’s what sells the tickets and gets the donations.

No one on the gala email chain or at our monthly meetings has asked me about who is playing, because it’s assumed I’ve got it covered. Putting together the celebrity jam band always requires a bit of magic and patience. The foundation team must be thinking I’m pulling my usual tricks.

The truth is I haven’t even thought about it. Once Daniel agreed to headline it for me every year, he started waving the wand on my behalf, picking his own backup. He always came through in a major way, and usually at the very last second.

To buy myself time, I list the other usual gala performers. “Powell’s doing his drag act, of course. Dad’s gonna do jazz covers again. People liked it. Maybe Daya will do stand-up. I should ask. I’ve got a week and a half,” I say with a gulp.

“I’m talking about the jam band,” Mom clarifies, as if I didn’t know.

“Oh. Yeah. You know, it’s always a random group.”

“It’s always Daniel Traverson and a random group,” Tyler challenges. Does she have leftover adrenaline from the Guy dustup and she’s using me to let it out? After I’ve stood up for her, no less.

“Obviously there’s no more Daniel Traverson,” I say.

“He was never that good anyways,” Mom tells me.

“I can do it,” Joseph offers, overlapping.

Mom’s fork pauses halfway to her mouth. “Do you play?”

“A little guitar. Probably about as well as that twat.” He gets an appreciative laugh out of Melanie of all people. “Isn’t the idea for it to be someone who doesn’t normally do this kind of thing?”

“That would be wonderful for the film!” Guy cheers. “Could help refocus the minds of the vultures on something more worthwhile, such as Sloane’s beloved cause.”

Joseph sweetens the pot. “I could get my dad to play with me.”

While everyone else asks some variation of “You could?” I ask, “You would?”

This thing with Joseph. It’s new. It’s fun. It’s supposed to be casual. Joseph hasn’t told me a whole lot about his dad, but everything I know is enough to understand the relationship is tenuous at best.

“His play is ending this weekend, so he’s free. He’d love a chance to remind fans he can do it all,” Joseph says. “He’s a drummer. It’s gloriously annoying. People will devour it.”

I want to say no. That this goes too far. But to have both Michael Donovan and his son performing would be a great late-addition draw.

“I’ll have my people call your people,” I joke. Except I’m serious.

By the nod he gives in response, so is Joseph.

“Sarai can play the tambourine,” Melanie adds. Surely this part is the joke.

Mom puts her hand on her heart. “That would be so sweet! And don’t let Sloane get away from this! She can sing! It’s about time she showed people! And Tyler can play the violin! You know, all my babies are musicians. Powell just took to it the best.”

“I’m not playing theviolin, Mom,” Tyler says dryly.