CelebrateEvery Birthday with BBQ
CHAD
TODAY
THECAKE COULD’VEburnt the house down, and maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.Insurance would take care of things, and we could get a new kitchen, some newsiding, a new roof …
Iactually smiledat the thought, despite that damncake, still threatening to send us all up in flames.
Iwas surrounded by my friends, parents, and girlfriend. My belly was full of thebest BBQ Texas had to offer, courtesy of my dad. But all I could think was, ifMama tipped the plate forward just a bit, that whole thing was going to slideoff and set the entire house on fire. The house I grew up in—poof! Gone in one big fiery blaze ofglory.
Therewere just so many candles. Thirty-one, to be exact.One for every year, and one for good luck. That was Mama’s way,every year since my first birthday.
Whyhadn’t twenty-nine plus one seemed like so many? I mean, that was still a lotof candles. And Sebastian, the drummer from my band, had teased the hell out ofme for being in the last year of my twenties. But Sebastian teases the hell outof me for everything—it’s just what he does. It’d rolled off me like it was nobig deal, just another birthday, just another year. But damn … thirty …
Thirtysuddenly felt a lot scarier than I thought it would.
Mamalovingly placed the cake in front of me at the table. Her eyes were glassy inthe blinding light of all those tinyfreakin’ flames.“Make a wish, baby.” She wanted to cry. She always did on my birthday. I’m sureit had something to do with me being her only kid, hermiracle baby, as she often put it.
“Bettermake it a good one, Chaddington.” I turned to my right so I could eye ourband’s drummer and one of my best buddies, Sebastian, glaringly. He better notsaysomething stupid in front of my mother, I swear to …“Like a night with virgin twins. Or, um, a day of uninterrupted jacking off.Or—”
Fwack. Hewas cut off by Ty’s hand hitting the back of his head. I tipped my headgratefully at our bass guitarist. His eyes rolled in reply.
Ilooked back to those thirty-one candles. The wax was beginning totrickleand the buttercream frosting was only minutes awayfrom being tainted. The pressure was on.
Make a wish.
Turningto my left, I took in the sight of Alison. Smooth alabaster skin shone brightlyin the candlelight. Emerald eyes remained fixed on the flickering flames,probably wondering, like me, how long it would be before the table caught fire.
“Whatshould I wish for?” I asked, trying my best to include her, and when thosegreen eyes met mine, her lips twitched into a small smile.
“Idon’t know. Whatever you want, babe.” Her tone was unmistakably dismissive.Bored.
Whatever I want. WhatI wanted was not to be thirty without any clue of where I was going in my life.What I wanted was to have been married about three years ago with a kid of myown and maybe another on the way. What I wanted was to go one day of my lifewithout feeling sick or exhausted from being sick.
“Seriously,bro,” Sebastian grumbled. “This isn’t like we’re asking you to pick whetheryou’d rather do Sasha Grey or Jenna Jameson.”
“Oh,for crying out loud.” Ty sighed heavily, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Who?”Mama quirked an eyebrow curiously, and I shook my head as my father choked onhis beer behind her.
“Nobody.”I glowered at Sebastian.
Sarah,my mother’s best friend since Kindergarten, said, “Porn stars, Con. They’reporn stars.”
“Hey,whoa, excuse me.” Sebastian leveled her with a finger. “Former porn stars,Sarah.Former.”
“Goodness,”Mama muttered to herself, still unsure of how to handle seeing her only child rockingtattooed sleeves, let alone hanging out with an unfiltered jackass likeSebastian Moore.
“Stopbein’ such a prude, Con,” Sarah quipped, andSebastian grinned as he appraised, “God, Sarah. IknewI liked you.”
Alisighed audibly, rubbing her manicured fingertips above her brow like she wassuddenly ailed with a fierce headache. I reckoned that headache was coming onin the form of this night, this cake, all thirty-one candles. Sebastian.Me. That was my cue to take a breath andget on with it. I fixed my eyes on the dancing flames, every one of themtaunting me with the truth.
Thirty, Chad. You’rethirty, and you’re only halfway to where youthought you’d be by now.
Istared them down with determination. This would be my year, I decided urgently.This would be the year I’d finally beg Ali to marry me. I’d get out of Mama’shouse and into my own place—Lord knows I could afford it. I’d find a way,anyway, to feeljust a little bit better. And with a breath that filled my lungs and left mychest aching, I blew every one of those damn candles out with the wish that I’dmake it all happen.
Thelight in the dining room came on, courtesy of Ty, and Ali muttered, “God,finally.”
