Chapter Five

Going to California

Led Zeppelin

Natalie

My parents roar with laughter—drunker than they have a right to be—as they poke fun at me while we host a very late dinner on our large patio table.

“Laugh it up, you jerks,” I pout, sipping my drink, my face still red as a beet and swollen from the procedure. Easton puts an arm around my shoulder, pulling me to him, a smile he can’t help on his own face.

“Baby, I love you, but sometimes I wonder how I could raise such a genius with so little common sense,” Mom muses.

Dad almost had a coronary when he saw me, and my quick explanation of why we were dining in our suite tonight has had our parents howling for the last fifteen minutes. “Oh, you can all go fly a kite.”

“Don’t hate on us for choosing to age gracefully, Jr,” Stella muses. “Though if it works out on you,” she shrugs. “I might be open to it.”

“The hell you will,” Reid says, sobering considerably. “No.”

“Oh, you’re cute,” Stella says, playfully slapping his jaw. “You think you have a say.”

“If I wanted to tatt a ball sack on my forehead, you might have a problem with it, Grenade.”

“It’s a youth infusion,” I protest, which only gathers more laughter. “Oh, eff off.”

Easton’s chest bounces as he pulls me closer to him and leans over in a whisper. “As soon as we’re free of these tequila-infused buffoons, I’ve got another youth infusion for you. Much less painful.”

“Inappropriate,” I mutter. “Parents right here.”

“They’re oblivious, and I think they’ve drunk themselves back in time over the last two days,” he says, scanning their animated faces. “Definitely not what I pictured for this trip,” I say, shaking my head.

“What did you picture?” He asks, running a finger playfully up my thigh.

“The way we spent our afternoon,” I tell him, heat gathering at the memory.

“We can have two more days of that.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s all I want,” he whispers, and I know it’s sincere.

“Me too, that, and, oh!” I spout, causing him to jump as I speak loud enough for the table to hear. “Babe, grab your guitar. You have to play them that song you started the other day!”

Stella and Reid perk up instantly, Stella speaking first. “You better!”

“It’s so, so good,” I assure her.

Easton objects just after, “Baby, there’s—”

I cover his mouth. “None of that humble hoopla. You’re the most incredible musician on the planet.”

“Here, here,” Stella says, tapping her glass on the table.

“Play it,” I encourage him. “They’ll love it. Promise.”

Easton glances around, biting back a smile before grabbing his guitar. I turn to the table, enthused. “Just wait. I mean, it’s epic.”

“Nat,” Easton objects.

“Crowne, play,” I order.

Easton plays the first few chords of the song, and Reid instantly perks up. Just as Easton begins to pluck the melody, Stella spits out her tequila shot and Reid bursts into hysterics.

“What the hell?” I ask with pinched brows.

Mom and Dad seem to catch on, and seconds later they all begin to sing.

“Oh,” I say, knowing I would be red-faced if I wasn’t already. “This isn’t new, is it? Or Easton’s.”

“No, Jr,” Stella laughs. “More like half a century old, actually older than any of us, honey. It’s Led Zeppelin.” She points at my Dad. “You’ve failed her on the music front, Nate, and frankly, I’m disappointed in you.”

Dad shrugs. “This is where you come in and pick up the slack.”

I narrow my eyes at Easton as he continues to pluck the song out and shrugs, his expression reading, ‘I tried to tell you.’

Tequila

The Champs

We all rock out to the song, each ready with dozens of shots lined up, waiting on our cue to drink. Mom and Dad are hammered. Reid is pretty belligerent at this point, his smile the only thing he’s added to the party in the last ten minutes. Stella seems to be holding her own. I’ve tried to alternate water between drinks to keep myself somewhat sober but have failed miserably, drunker than I have been in years, actually since I was last here.

Yep, it’s dejavucation.

Easton’s just as buzzed as he and Stella laugh hysterically.

Mom’s chair dancing goes south, and she nearly tips over, but Dad saves her just in time before the two burst into laughter.

Stella lifts her finger to cue us up, and we all take another shot as “Tequila” is spoken. My gag reflex kicks in, and I turn over my glass and tap out. “I’m done.”

Easton sloppily bobs his head in agreement.

“Lightweights,” Stella mutters.

I scream over the loud music as they take the last shot. “There’s something inherently wrong about getting this level of drunk with your parents!”

The song ends just as I finish screaming out my declaration, and all goes momentarily quiet.

“No, hell no, this. Nights like this is what it’s all about.” To all our surprise, it’s my father saying this as he glances around the table and then back to Easton and me.

“For us four, this is the destination of every decision, of every late night at the office, of every ambition, every dream of our lives apart then together. Every wipe of the runny nose, every grounding, every wince and flinch we endured while raising you both and praying we did well to make you decent humans. This,” Dad points to the table, “this is the payoff. Laughing, singing, and celebrating with the people you love most in this beautiful place.” Mom grips Dad’s hand tight as he looks over to her and kisses her tenderly before turning back to the table.

“Careful, Butler,” Reid speaks up, his eyes on Stella. “You’re about to set my grenade off.” Stella sniffs, her eyes glazing with tears as she smiles. “Maybe, but he’s right.”

Dad lifts his glass to all of us before homing in on Easton and me. “So, if you two ever do give us that grandchild, I hope that twenty-one-plus years from now, all of us will end up on this porch, doing this very same fucking thing. Let’s hope that we get there, all of us, but let’s be happy that we’re here, now.”

Leaving us with watery eyes and hard swallows, we all clink glasses. “Awesome, Daddy,” I say as another song begins to play, breaking the sentiment-filled silence courtesy of DJ Stella.

As the party resumes, I lean over to Easton. “We really do have cool parents.”

“No argument there, Beauty.”

“You think our lives will ever go according to any asinine plan?”

Easton turns to me, eyes filled with love and mirth. “You already know the answer to that.”

“Well then, I say bring it on.”

“Bet.” He seals that declaration with a kiss.