"Thanks for agreeing to this," Vance said as he slid into the booth across from Wes. "I didn't think you'd want to see me."
Wes studied Vance. His old friend looked rough. Vance was usually pale, but his eyes weren't usually red-rimmed with bags underneath. His red hair was spiked in every direction and died black at the tips. There were silver rings on almost every finger, a couple hoops in both ears and a few new tattoos on both arms. "I don't have anything against you," Wes said with a shrug.
"I know but...after what happened, I figured you wouldn't want anything to do with any of us."
"There was a year or two when I wanted all of you to burn in hell, but I'm not holding a grudge against you."
Vance nodded. "True."
"So, why are you in town...hell, why are you in America?"
Vance scrubbed his face with both hands. "I need some coffee," he mumbled. "This time difference is a bitch."
Wes nodded and waved over the waiter.
They ordered lunch and Wes remained silent when the waiter left. He'd asked a question that was yet to be answered.
"Logan set up some meetings with a sponsor. We took the meeting yesterday, in the city. While we're over here, Logan decided to set up some concerts. I guess we're working on increasing our American fan base."
Wes nodded. At this point, the conversation was getting too close to the old wounds. A tattoo on Vance's neck caught his eye. Chaos Paradigm was written in Gothic lettering around one side. Wes looked away quickly.
"I brought you some passes," said Vance pushing the laminated squares across the table. "It's this Friday."
"I don't know about this," Wes sighed nodding at the passes.
Vance nodded. "I thought you don't hold grudges."
"I said I don't hold a grudge against you. I'm not exactly ready to play nice with everyone."
"You know we haven't been the same without you." Vance accepted the coffee and took to drinking it without any sweetener or cream.
"I'm sure Chaos Paradigm will go on without me."
"We haven't written a decent song since you left."
Wes snorted.
"You know what I mean," Vance continued. "Sure we're coasting on what we were before, loyal fans that keep feeding the pig, but creatively, the past two albums are garbage."
Wes smiled. "I wasn't going to say as much, but..."
Vance chuckled. "Asshole."
"You knew that already," said Wes just as their lunch arrived.
The two ate in companionable silence. There was no catching up or going on about the last three years. Since Wes had left Chaos Paradigm and England as a whole...for good measure...he hadn't spoken to any of his former band mates.
Once they were finished, Vance dropped a hundred dollar bill on the table and smiled. "You look good, man."
Wes laughed. "You look like shit."
"Nothing a few nights of free drinks won't fix." Vance tapped the passes, still on the table between them. "I'm not going to insist, but I'll give you as much hell as I can if you don't show. We've got to let the bad blood wash, man."
Wes shrugged, but it went unnoticed because Vance was already out of the booth. "Later."
Wes nodded his good bye.
***
It was that time.
Tabitha had been too distracted by Wes to dread it the way she usually did, but the day had come for her family to go back to England. She'd taken the day off work and slept over at Dion's. They'd stayed up late packing and talking. Rick knew better than to interrupt them. He'd put the kids to bed and gone to sleep early so he could stay up with Lily on the flight. She cried when she woke up that morning. It would be the last time for a long time that she'd wake up in a house full of people. There was something comforting about the sound of laughter and talking when she was used to waking up alone.
She cried for a few minutes before she got out of the bed.
"Auntie!" Rose called from the other side of the door. "Chef Walter wants to know if you're having breakfast! The rest of us have already eaten."
"Tell him I'll be right down, hon!"
"Okay!"
Tabitha listened to her niece's footfalls as she hurried down the hall to get downstairs and tell their cook that Tabitha would indeed be down for breakfast.
Walter Fields was the family's cook when they were in the states. He was a young guy, barely older than Tabitha that had an impressive resume even before being taken on as the Solomon's family cook. He had his own business, a mobile chef. He had clients that he visited a few times a week to prepare lunches and dinners. When the Solomon family was in England, they had Cookie, a chef that stayed in the house with them and traveled with them around the country and on vacation if he wanted.
Walter Fields may have been a part-time hire, but that didn't hurt his business any. He was on a very specific schedule when Tabitha's family was in their home. He showed up around five in the morning to prepare breakfast. He'd leave at nine to visit the other homes in which he worked, and then he'd return by noon to prepare lunch. He'd leave again to do shopping and any other errands needed, return at five to prepare dinner. Once dinner was done, he'd leave again to visit his other clients or execute the occasional catering job. He took on more clients and events when he didn't have to cook three meals a day for Tabitha's family, but even if he only worked for the Solomon family, he'd have more than enough money to live well.
Tabitha did her morning routine and hurried downstairs to eat whatever Walter had prepared that morning. She knew it would be something special, since it was his last day.
"I was about to give up on you!" he said sliding a plate of silver dollar pancakes, fluffy scrambled eggs, and turkey bacon in front of her, followed by a large bowl of fruit with whip cream on top.
"Never give up on me," Tabitha said picking up a fork.
"Rough morning?" he asked.
Tabitha nodded, since her mouth was full of pancakes.
