The Rebellion (© S.L. SCOTT 2017):
JAYMES GRENIER POV
I didn’t just miss him. I envied him.
He did it.
He chased his dreams. Made them happen. I was both proud he made it and sad that I didn’t. When we were together, I never thought it had to be one or the other. I have no ill will that he found fame, or has made money. It’s quite the opposite. I still care. I still cheer. I still smile if I see him on a billboard or hear him on the radio. He was always confident, so damn confident. The irony from the night we went to the Hollywood Bowl still plays in my mind sometimes . . .
“I’m going to play that stage one day. Just you wait, baby.” His arm wraps around my shoulders and he pulls me to his side, one of my most favorite places to be. His six-foot-one frame towers over my five-foot-three body so I fit snuggly against him. I feel loved. I feel safe. His smile is contagious when he looks down at me. “You and me and the whole wide world will be ours to see. To own. Hollywood won’t know what hit them.”
“I don’t think, Jaymes. I know. That’s gonna be me. And you, my songbird, are going to sing for the world. Every station is going to be playing your songs. Maybe even our songs.”
“You dream big.”
“As big as the universe. What’s the point if any schmuck can do it?”
He’s got a point. I close my eyes and lean my head against him. We sway to a ballad that breaks my heart and heals me again. The lyrics of this song remind me of Derrick’s. There’s a haunting quality that rolls through my soul like a fog creeping out to sea.
. . . A few years later, Derrick Masters joined The Resistance. The announcement spread like wildfire; he was now lead guitarist.