Chapter Text
Hollywood, 1995
Ray bolted down the hallway, muttering a string of curses under his breath. He had three portfolios pressed against his chest; all which held papers of his class assignments, his photo collections, his dream. And that pendejo advisor had the gall to say that Ray should consider switching to another major, that his talent lied elsewhere. Tears stung his eyes, and he gritted his teeth. Don’t cry. Hold it. Be strong.
His abuelita believed in him.
His parents told him to go to trade school, to build up the skills for a job that would always be in demand. Photographers weren’t highly needed or wanted. It would be more practical to find a job that he could easily obtain and that could support him.
“What does your heart tell you, mijo? What is thundering in your chest?”
Ray cherished his camera, he loved taking pictures. He loved capturing buildings and landscapes in a way that nobody else could see them. He loved capturing a precious moment in time, trapping something that was often fleeting. He enjoyed snapping a profile of someone, to emulate his perspective of them, to catch a snippet of their beauty, of what their spirit is, what makes them alive.
“There’s something missing in your photos, Ray. It doesn’t evoke any emotions. You don’t have the gift. It’s not in you. I can teach you how to take a picture, but I can’t tell you how to make art with it.” His advisor and professor sighed. “You’ve failed all of your photography classes this year, and you’re going to fail this semester. You’ve used up all your chances.”
He burst out the door into the bustling crowd of students on the quad. All them bright-eyed and hungry to learn. None of them had their dreams crushed, the weight of failure around their neck. He retook all the photographer classes he failed his first year for the summer semester.
And it was all for nothing.
The gentle strum of an acoustic guitar filled his ears. Normally, he enjoyed the music others played on the quad. Especially after a hard class. It would put a beat in his step.
Not today. Today, he wanted to chuck his de mierda portfolios at them.
How dare they be happy and carefree when Ray lost everything, his dream!
How could he face his abuelita now? She was the only one who believed in him, who loaned him money for college, who brought his Kodak DCS 460, and the one who squealed and yammered at each and every one of his photos.
“Whoooooah. Whoooah. This is band is back.”
Not these guys. These four high schoolers had been trespassing on campus the past few weeks, spreading word about this gig and that, and playing their music. Okay. Fine. Ray liked them. They were rather good. He left them a five-dollar tip in their guitar case every time he walked by. He just...wasn’t in the mood to have unabashed talent rubbed into his face. Those guys were going to be legends, Ray knew it. They had that vibe.
Ray was going to go to trade school, become a plumber, and his camera would rust in the corner of some bookshelf, rusting away, his dream turning into only a fleeting wish.
“Can you—“Yes, we can.”—can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear.”
“We gotta get—OOMPH!”
Someone crashed into Ray and sent him sprawling to the ground. Ray’s portfolios flew out of his hands, his photos shot out and up into the air like confetti.
“Whoa, dude, I’m so sorry!”
Ray ignored the panicking boy next to him, and instead focused on trying to draw in air into the lungs that it escaped from.
A loud voice barked from Ray’s left: “What are you brats doing here?”
“Campus security,” one of the boys trilled. “Oh god, we’re busted!”
“He brought the cavalry!” a third one cried out.
“Run, boys!” the fourth boy yelled, strumming a frantic riff with his acoustic guitar.
Heavy footsteps stormed past him.
Ray continued to stare up at the sky, pondering on the meaning of existence. What was the point of all this?
“Whoa, dude, did you take all of these?”
Ray inhaled sharply, finally getting in air. He propped up onto his elbows.
One of the band boys, dressed in a black tank top and torn jeans, with his leather jacket wrapped around his waist, continued to pick up Ray’s mass array of photos that laid around them. He inspected each of the photos he picked up with awe.
Ray shifted about, getting onto his knees. “Um...yeah. I did.”
“They are so good. I mean, this one...” The high-schooler held up a picture of a cracked coffee mug in a café, the strings of lights in the back illuminating through the crack. “The lighting in this...” He whistled. “How were you able to capture that? And, whoa, this one!” The boy moaned over the next photo like it was a delicious desert. “The creative framing in this one! I feel bad I got dirt on it.” The boy brushed it off on his tank-top, several strands of his hair that was gelled back loosened and hung over his forehead.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ray said. “They suck. All of them. Might as well trash them.”
The boy spun to him, eyes wide, aghast. “No! Dude. No!” He jabbed a sharp finger at Ray’s face. “Own your awesomeness!”
Who was this kid? He had the energy of a terrier.
“I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I just had someone who actually knows photography tells me that it’s a pile of dung.”
The boy blew raspberries and waved a hand. “Whoever told you that knows nothing. I mean, I only take photos with a crappy Nikon F3, and I can never capture rhythm in photography like I can capture rhythm with my bass. Look at the movement of this one!” He showed Ray’s his photo of the petals of pink roses trickling across the rippling pond. “This one sings!”
Ray found himself smiling. “I guess music and photography are similar.”
“It’s all about the rhythm, and refining it!” The boy smacked Ray’s chest, his exuberant energy infectious that Ray felt the heavy weight around his neck lifting. “Let me hear it! Your photos are rad!”
Ray chuckled. “Okay. They’re rad.”
“That’s it! Needs more zest, but I’ll take this for now.”
They fell into a collective silence as they picked the rest of Ray’s photos up.
“Thank you,” Ray whispered.
The boy turned to look at him. “Yeah, man. Of course.” He ran his fingers through his mop of brown hair, pushing it out of his forehead. “I’m Reggie.”
“Ray.”
“Look, man, I know I’m not a total expert, but trust me, you’ve got something here. Maybe if they don’t appreciate your talent here, you should go somewhere where they do. You’re not going to be able to harness and grow your skills if it’s not appreciated.” His voice grew soft. “Trust me. I know.”
Why didn’t Ray think of that? Instead of giving up on his dream, why didn’t he think of attending a new school? He picked up a photo. Maybe he needed help looking at things from a new angle, a new perspective to capture the right frame.
“What if they don’t like me there either? What if they tell me the same thing?”
Reggie scoffed. “My good friend would be asking you: why are you seeking permission if these are good or not? They are! Prove it. Prepare a photography exhibit! Go show off your amazing work!”
Ray blinked. An exhibition of his collections? “That’s crazy. Who’s going to display my work?”
“Anywhere! Coffee shops! Um, bookstores? Libraries? Oh! I have an idea!” Reggie dug his hand into his leather jacket pocket and pulled out two tickets. He handed them to Ray. “Tickets to the Orpheum! You can take pictures at the show this Saturday and then show them your amazing skills and they will fall in love with them and exhibit your photos in, like the bathrooms and the bar or something. I dunno!”
Ray’s heart thrummed with excitement. Yes. He loved music and it’d been so long since he’d been to a concert. He glanced over the tickets. These were VIP tickets. “I can’t take these...” He handed them back to Reggie. “Do you know how hard it is to get tickets to the Orpheum? And these are VIPs. I can’t...”
“Take them. I was going to give them to my par...” Reggie cleared his throat. “Just...take them. You can capture me in my glory.”
“You’re playing onstage?”
“We’re the opening band. We’re...” Reggie widened his eyes and screeched. He shoved the pile of photos into Ray’s hands. “Nice meeting you. See you next week.” He bolted off. “Tell your friends!”
Reggie sprinted across the quad, with two campus security officers hot on his heels.
Ray pulled out the two Orpheum tickets from the bottom of the pile and looked back up at the shrinking figure of Reggie in the distance.
Best. Stranger. Ever.
He finished gathering the rest of his stuff, shoving them back into his portfolios. He needed to call his abuelita. Talking to her always helped. He could get her advice on dropping out of school, or switching school. He could stop by his coffee shop on his way home, drop off a couple photos to display. Oh! And make business cards! They had to know of a way to contact him somehow.
He laughed and ran a hand across his face. How was that possible? He had given up. He was ready to drop out. He was done with photography. And five minutes with this...Reggie was enough to inspire him and make him feel alive again.
How ironic that he found more support from a stranger in five minutes than he received from his parents in his whole life.
His abuelita once told him that there were some people you met, and you may not know them, but your souls remembered each other and they’re so happy and excited to reconnect, that there are people where you have an instant connection, a friendship that sparked from single moment in time, souls picking up where they left off.
God, a spark of friendship? He’d been spending way too much time with his abuelita. The kid was a couple years younger than him, still in high school probably. All of Ray’s high school friends moved out of the city, across state, or out of state. It was hard to make new friends in college when he’d been struggling in his classes.
Screw it. Why not? Ray would go to the show this Saturday. He’d bring his abuelita as a thank you for everything she’s done for him. She would probably force him backstage to talk to Reggie. She kept encouraging him to make friends.
Ray wished he caught the name of Reggie’s band. Reggie said they were the opening band, right? Ray guessed he would find out that night.
Perhaps he could capture Reggie’s awesomeness and return the favor.
LOZ FELIZ, 2020
When things got a little overwhelming and Reggie needed to clear his mind, he played his bass guitar.
He didn’t need to play a full song or melody, no. All he needed to do was repeatedly strum the same riffs, over and over, like a mindless chant and it helped him think.
Alex was out on the streets of Hollywood clearing his head.
Reggie could do it here.
He was dead. He was a freaking ghost. He was still reeling from that mind-blowing revelation. And he completely understood Alex’s model strut and panic earlier.
People can see them, see him, when they played music.
Reggie felt alive again.
And somehow, being alive again, if only in weird roundabout way, terrified him more.
He strummed the strings on his bass guitar harder, faster.
He didn’t want to think about that. No. He was going to bury that deep down. Analyze it later. Focus on better things, happier things.
When he was in elementary school, he struggled with certain subjects and received conflicting help from his parents. They fought over who was right and since Reggie didn’t want to take any sides, he couldn’t even write a proper answer on his homework and tests. His teacher had pulled him aside and gave him the best advice he’d ever gotten: if you want to stop overthinking and get out of your own head, take five minutes and go help someone else.
It worked. He helped his parents with fixing dinner, or cleaning the house, heck, he even figured out how to write checks to help them pay their bills on time, and sure, the fighting didn’t stop, but it lessened. And he stopped overthinking on his homework and didn’t need help on it anymore.
Right now, he needed to focus on Julie.
Help Julie.
Get her to join the band.
That would help Luke and Alex.
Yeah. He could get pumped about that.
Sweet.
Luke was searching Julie’s house for an “inspiration for a song to convince Julie to join the band”, which Reggie took for as code for “I'm going to sneak into Julie’s room”. Yeah. Reggie understood boundaries. He wasn’t going back into Julie’s room again. Not after she yelled at them. But it didn’t mean he was going to stop Luke from doing it.
He wasn’t really good with this boundary thing either, was he?
Ah. They’re ghosts. Ghosts didn’t have boundaries.
Oooh, what if Reggie did this with his riff and yeah, that would be a good rhythm for a new song. He had to show this to Luke. If he ever came back from the house. Maybe Reggie should poof in and drag Luke out of there.
One of the double doors of the studio opened.
Reggie spun around. “Hey, Ju—” He released a loud squeal and pressed his bass guitar against his chest. “Julie’s dad!”
The man that walked through him the other day strode into the studio. He swept his gaze around the room, eyes narrowed. “I could have sworn I heard something playing.” He ran a hand across his face and grumbled. “I shouldn’t have had that eighth cup of coffee.”
“Whoa. Eight? That can’t be good for your heart.”
Julie’s dad lowered his chin toward his chest. “Ay, I don’t know what to do, mi amor. I’ve been scouring through every music program all over that’s a right fit for Julie and I—I—I’m so scared I’m going to lose her again. What if she doesn’t get back into the music program-at-at school? I can’t let her lose this.” His voice cracked and Reggie’s heart twisted at that broken noise. “I’ve prayed to abuelita for help. I’ve prayed to you. I’ve prayed to God, even though I’m still angry at him for…taking you from me. I…don’t know what to do. Just give me a sign. Please. I…”
“Hey...” Reggie walked through the coffee table toward the man. “It's okay. Julie got back into the music program. You should have seen her! She rocked it. And...” Reggie noticed Julie’s dad still stared dejectedly at the ground. “Yeah. You can’t hear me.” Unless… Reggie lifted his hand and went to lay a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. It phased through and Julie’s dad shivered at the touch. Reggie threw his hands up and stepped back. “Sorry!”
Something clattered off the coffee table. Reggie glanced down to realize he was standing in the center of it. He moved out of the way as Julie’s dad circled the coffee table and picked up the fallen object: the Sunset Curve CD.
“Wow. I haven’t seen this in years.” He ran his thumb across the cover thoughtfully. “This must be what Julie was blasting the other night. I knew it sounded familiar. Remember we used to play this all the time when we first dated?” An emotion Reggie couldn’t decipher crossed the man’s features. “Are you telling me I should pray to him for help?” He scoffed. “You always believed in symbolism and signs. That what I loved about you. I keep seeing signs from you everywhere.”
Man, this was beautiful. Whoever Julie’s mom was, she must’ve been something.
Reggie wondered if either of his parents ever talked to him like this after he died. Did they still mourn him? Did they even care? Did they miss him? Did he even leave a hole in their hearts like Julie’s mom left her family?
He wanted to find them. He didn’t know why.
And yet…he also didn’t want to.
He was terrified to.
Julie’s dad picked up a brown shoebox from the shelves next to the couch, opened the lid, and placed the CD back. “I'm blaming the eight cups of coffee, but okay, mi amor, I’ll do it. I’ll pray to him. Been years since I’ve last talked to him. I doubt he remembers me.” Julie’s dad chuckled wryly. It made Reggie smiled.
He liked this guy. Reggie wondered who Julie’s dad was talking about. A dead friend? Dead brother? A deity Reggie wouldn’t have heard of?
Julie’s dad closed his eyes and intertwined his fingers. “Hey, mi ol’ broki. This is ridiculous. I’m sure you’ve probably moved on.” He writhed his hands. “I’m an idiota. Why would you even listen to the prayer of a guy you’ve only met once? Dr. Turner would tell me I’m projecting onto you who I wanted you to be, who I...hoped you would be. God, if you’ve already reincarnated, you would probably be old enough to be my son.”
This guy rambled a lot. Especially during a prayer. “Geez, I thought I was bad,” Reggie said. “Get to the point, dude. I think you’re boring the guy.”
“Please, help my little nina. Make her alive again. Bring music back into her life.”
Tears pricked Reggie’s eyes and he fanned them. “Oh, man. Not again! Come on!”
“Please. Please, Reggie. Help Julie.”
Reggie dropped his hands. He had to have heard wrong. He had to. He didn’t… “Did you say my name?”
“Help her like you helped me. Please, Reggie.”
Reggie’s heart thundered in his chest. How...how…
That’s crazy. It’s crazy. Julie’s dad used to have a pal named Reggie. What a crazy world. What a…crazy…
Reggie stepped closer and really looked at Julie’s dad. Did Reggie know him? The man didn’t really look all that familiar to Reggie. Then again…he probably looked much different twenty-five years ago. He tried to recollect the feeling he got when Julie’s dad walked through his body. The inner knowing he received from that mere contact that the man had a good heart, that he had a lot of love, and was kind, and patience. The way the guy fiddled with the lens of his camera, taking photos of the room.
“Whoa!” The realization snapped through Reggie like an electric hammer. Reggie knew him! He met the anxious college student only a week before his death.
“Ray?” Reggie squeaked out.
Ray opened his eyes and seemed to look right at Reggie.
Reggie hugged his guitar. No way. No waaaaay!
Ray sighed and left, closing the door softly as he did.
Reggie watched him leave, frozen in shock. He gave Julie’s dad tickets to the Orpheum. To his opening show. He remembered bowling the poor guy over, spilling his photographs everywhere, the swirling guilt that ate at Reggie for nearly destroying the poor dude’s work.
Nah. It couldn’t be Ray. No way.
Impossible.
Luke poofed next to Reggie. “Hey, bro. You’ve never going to guess what I found. Julie wrote an amazingly wicked song that I think you should check out.”
Focus on Julie.
Yeah.
Get her to join the band.
It’s not Ray.
No way, Jose.
Reggie poofed into Molina’s house. It was time to solve this little mystery. Was this Ray the Ray from Reggie’s past?
He managed to get out of Julie that her dad’s name was, in fact, Ray. And her aunt was Victoria. And the little dude was Carlos. She didn’t seem so amused when Reggie told her he was going to haunt her family. Thankfully, Luke distracted her with a song he’d started writing before they died. Luke was a good bro. Why couldn’t Reggie haunt people? Alex got to hang out with his new ghost friend and do ghostly stuff. Why not Reggie?
The dining room and kitchen were empty. Reggie checked the living room…which was also an office? He could not understand the layout of this house. Everything was so open. Reggie moved to the end of the stairs that led up to the second level.
Okay. Boundaries.
Reggie wanted to avoid the bedrooms at all cost, because well, what if he walked in on them changing? Or worse…Reggie shuddered remembering the time his mother walked in on him masturbating once. Be classy.
A heavy thud sounded on the floor upstairs.
“I don’t wanna go!”
Reggie widened his eyes. That was Carlo’s voice. And the thud... Reggie immediately poofed upstairs to the doorway next to Julie’s room. He darted across the open doorway.
Carlos sat on the carpet, in his red baseball uniform. A duffel bag, with a bat attached to the side, was next to Carlos’ feet.
Ray stood over his son, hands on hip. Stupid, stupid fedora hat on his head.
Anger surged within Reggie. Did he hurt Carlos? Maybe it was a good thing Reggie died before he became an adult, because, apparently, being an adult meant hurting your kids. Reggie gritted his teeth.
Ray took a seat next to Carlos. “Why not? I thought you loved baseball.”
“Don’t fall for it, Carlos,” Reggie said. “I know that move. He may act like he cares, but he’s going to use it against you.”
How was he going to get Ray away from Carlos?
“I suck, Papi,” Carlos said. “I suck! I never make it home safe. I barely catch the ball and I ended costing us the game last week. I’m no good.”
“Peters don’t quit! I don’t care if you don’t like it. I paid non-refundable money for you to be on this soccer team. You’re going to suck it up and do it.”
Ray was quiet for a long time.
Every second of silence made Reggie’s blood pulse with panic.
“Do you like baseball, Carlos? Do you like to play it?”
Carlos crossed his arms and huffed, looking away from his dad.
“Carlos?” Ray pressed gently.
“Yeah. A little bit. Maybe.” Carlos groaned. “Fine. I do.”
“When you go out on the field, you always give it all you got, don’t you?”
“I do! It’s not good enough!”
“Ay, don’t say that.” Ray wrapped an arm around Carlos. “Everybody’s best is different, mijo. All that matters is that you do your best.”
“Even if I’m not the best?”
“The best players are the ones who play their hearts out.”
Carlos’ lower lip quivered and he nodded his head.
Reggie stared at Ray, the heavy pounding in his heart slowed to a soft beat. He...he wanted that. As a kid, that was what he wanted from his father, from both his parents. Ray made it look so easy to be a kind, thoughtful adult. He didn’t talk back down to Carlos. He talked to Carlos…mano a mano. Reggie’s parents weren’t awful people, but they never really listened to him and…he just remembered always being so scared of them. And yet, he still kinda missed them.
“Besides…” Ray added, a playful lit in his voice. “Tia is bringing her brownies to the game.”
Carlos perked up. “Her Alto Grande brownies?”
“Yeah. We don’t have to go, but it sure would be a shame to miss those brownies.”
Carlos bolted up. “What are you waiting for? Start the car! We’re going to be late!” He ran through Reggie. “Why didn’t you start with that?”
Reggie trembled after Carlos ran past him, he could feel the boisterous excitement and love radiating from the kid. The little man was already out of the door before Ray stretched himself back up. Ray popped a lower joint in his back.
“I wished I got brownies after my baseball games as a kid,” Ray complained with a fond smile.
“Are you kidding me?!” Reggie exclaimed. “I wouldn’t have dropped out of soccer if I had those as my halftime snack!”
“Kids and desserts.”
“Best bribery tool.” He reared his head back as he realized that Ray said the exact same thing as him, at the exact same time. “Whoaa.”
Ray left Reggie in shock once again.
Reggie shook out of it with a grin. Ray grew up to be a pretty awesome adult. Now he had to go to Carlos’ game with him! This was going to be the best haunting ever!
He poofed out onto the driveway in time to see Carlos get into the backseat of some HUGE red squared van. Man, cars became so much bigger in the future! He poofed and sat on the front passenger seat.
Carlos sat in the middle seat in the back, buckling his seatbelt.
“You go, little man. Safety first,” Reggie said.
Ray got in soon after, and Reggie was bouncing in his seat with the same energy as Carlos. Ray had barely drove them out of the driveway before Carlos yelled at him:
“Come on, Papi, floor it! Tia drives faster than you!”
“I probably should have a talk with Tia about obeying traffic laws when she drives you.”
Carlos laughed. “Tia never got a ticket in her life. You got one last week.”
“Ooooh, burn!” Reggie said. He turned in his seat and offered a high-five to Carlos.
Carlos stuck his tongue out and wiggled his fingers in Reggie’s direction.
Something stirred in Reggie’s heart. For a second, he could almost believe Carlos heard him and gave him some weird future five back.
Ray shot his son a glare through the rear-view mirror, but the effect was ruined by the smile dancing on his lips. When they stopped at a light, Ray snapped his fingers. “Want me to play your walkout music?”
“You know it,” Carlos said.
Reggie furrowed his brow. Walkout music? He didn’t know sports analogy all that well.
Ray turned his stereo on and clicked a few more buttons.
Reggie gawked at it. “Dude! Your stereo looks like something out of Back to the Future!”
A familiar song blasted through the speakers. Reggie’s jaw dropped. No. Freaking. Way. It was a classical song from one of Reggie’s favorite movies. He laughed as Ray and Carlos started humming and scatting along with the music.
It was the Imperial March from Star Wars.
Okay. It’s official. Reggie was in love with these guys, especially old Ray.
He leaned back in his seat, humming along with them, to the music, to the theme, to the brief fantasy that he was Carlos’ brother, that he was attending Carlos’ game with their father. Who knew it was possible that a parent could have some kind of friendship with their child?
It proved Reggie’s theory though.
Blood wasn’t family.
Friendship was.
He was going to be the best ghost friend they would ever have.
Ray held his fedora on as a gush of wind blasted past him as he made his way down the sidewalk. His stomach twisted in knots. He had just given Julie a lecture for skipping school, and even punished her for it. How hypocritical of him to punish his child for not showing up and here he was, bailing out on a date. He left the poor woman sitting at that table. He should’ve called, or texted her, or anything, to inform her that he wouldn’t show up.
No. He choked. He took one look at Serena, in her floral dress, hair pulled into a nice bun, and panicked. How could he even think he was ready to start dating again?
And worse, he felt guilty for keeping it a secret from his children. He had a feeling Victoria had a suspicion where he went, but thank God, she didn’t press. He didn’t know what he would do without her. He used to be much firmer when it came to raising his kids, but after Rose died, he didn’t have the heart to be strict. He was glad Victoria was there to help him force him to be a parent.
He always used to be scared of being too strict with his children. Rose knew most of his fear stemmed from his own childhood. The lack of support and strict rules was all he knew, and he vowed he would never be like his parents.
Should he have punished Julie like that?
What if she had a good reason for missing school?
It wasn’t like her to do that.
The wind rattled hard through a sign up ahead, and Ray smiled at the name: Eats & Beats. Rose and her band found their management team after a performance there.
Rose and the Petal Pushers.
It was also one of the places Ray hosted one of his first photography exhibit. He peered in through the windows. Looks like they were having musical gigs tonight. Maybe he’ll pop in, grab a quick drink, and see if any of the bands were as good as his Rose was.
He found a nice, secluded spot in the back corner, behind the coffee bar. He listened to a few bands and sipped his spicy chai throughout each song. They were decent. Maybe it was because Rose was gone, but he felt like a lot of bands nowadays lacked the vibe, lacked soul. It felt like nobody wanted to connect with the audience, they just wanted to play music and that was it.
He grimaced as he heard the announcement for Dirty Candy. He had grown to love Carrie as his own daughter when she and Julie were friends. He was on Julie’s side when their friendship dissolved, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Carrie simply lost her way. Lots of teenagers did when they were trying to find themselves. Ray thought of his own past. Or did they lose their way when they tried to please their parents?
He sighed.
What was he doing here?
He needed to go home and have another talk with Julie. It hurt that she kept pushing him away, and it felt like she was doing it more and more recently, but he wanted her to know that no matter what, he still had her back.
Ray took his ceramic mug back up to the counter and placed it in their bus tub next to the condiments. A teenage girl stirred something in her to-go coffee mug, eyes on her phone.
Kids and technology.
He shook his head and placed his fedora back on.
The girl moved to throw the stirrer away, but since her eyes were glued on her phone, she knocked over a flower vase. The contents of the vase spilled over the counter and onto the floor. The girl panicked and rushed out of there.
Go home, Ray told himself. It’s not his problem. The workers can clean it up.
He glanced down and picked up the flower at his feet. A dahlia.
His heart tightened in pain at the reminder of his wife’s favorite flower.
Maybe this was a sign from his wife. What was she trying to tell him? That everything would be okay? That he was overlooking something like that girl before him was?
He gathered all the flowers and arranged them back in the vase. One of the baristas finally came out with a mop and thanked him.
He waved it away. He didn’t need to be thanked for common courtesy.
“Okay, it looks like we're closing the night out with one more group,” the announcer called out. "Julie and The Fat Ones.”
Ray cocked a brow. A band that had Julie’s name. He should stay and listen to this.
Is this the sign, Rose?
He turned. No. He needed to get home back to his children.
He weaved his way through the crowd toward the door.
“Whoaa, Ray? Where are you going? Julie’s playing!”
Ray paused. He searched the crowd for anyone that may have called him. Must be hearing things. Or there might’ve been a different Ray. He scoffed at himself. He was losing it.
“Hi…” a voice sounded on the mic. “It’s actually Julie and the Phantoms.”
Ray froze.
No.
That was his hija’s voice.
Soft beautiful piano music began to play. Ray found the stage. He could barely make his daughter out over the heads of the crowd in front. The way the light shined behind his hija, the leather vest she wore, her angelic singing voice.
Ray covered his mouth, emotions swirling within.
It was like he stepped back in time and was watching his wife sing on the stage for the first time. Julie looked so much like Rose. Especially the way she could hit those high notes. She was so...
Ray jerked as three band members suddenly appeared out of thin air on the stage next to Julie. What was that? Julie pulled her microphone free and crossed the stage to sing with the other boys.
Julie. Was. In. A. Band?
With...Holograms?
When? Was this why she skipped school?
Who were these boys?
The shaggy-hair guitarist with the short-sleeve tank top sang well, a little swagger in the way he moved his lips. The blond drummer seemed to be completely in his element, beating the sticks away as if they were an extension of him. And the bassist danced and bounced up and down from the drum riser as if the stage were his favorite place to be.
Ray tilted his head. The bassist was familiar somehow. He got the sense that he should know the teenager. His attention was captured again by Julie, tapping her tambourine to a beat. She was alive, illuminating, bright, and shining.
His hija was back. She was the music, and the music was her.
He wanted to clap, he wanted to cheer, he wanted to cry, and call her name.
And the song…it was good. And he had that feeling. This band did have a spark.
But…
She lied to him again.
She snuck out when she was grounded. She was supposed to be studying.
Were these boys a bad influence on her? Did they manipulate her to do this? How did she even meet them? So many questions filled his head, yet dread filled his heart.
He couldn’t be a parent.
He had to be two parents right now.
She lied to him. She didn’t have to tell him everything, but…
She snuck out, she skipped school, she missed a test.
I won’t let her fall in the gutter of life.
Ray twisted the beaded bracelet on his wrist.
Why didn’t you let me in, mija?
Had he failed as a parent?
As the song ended, Ray grimaced at the cheers. The raucous applause mocked his decision.
His hija was finally free, and he felt terrible for having to be the one to cage her again.
Reggie pinched his fingers, writing his hands as he walked through the Molinas’ kitchen.
He felt bad for not warning Julie that he saw Ray at the gig earlier, but he assumed that Ray would be all for it and have her back. Even when Alex and Luke were freaking out that Julie was going to get punished harshly, Reggie wasn’t nervous about it. It all turned out for the best, it seemed. Julie told them that she and her dad talked, and he was going to allow her to stay in the band. However, it meant the next few days, she had to focus more on school instead of band practice, which was fine.
So why was Reggie having that weird feeling? Something told him that Ray needed someone. It was the same knowing Reggie got after Luke had a bad fight with his mom, or when Alex got angry at himself for not living up to “today-is-going-to-be-the-day-I-tell-them”.
Streaks of light stretched across the living room, bouncing off the television screen in the corner. Reggie found Ray sitting at his office desk, head buried in his hands. The desk light flickered at Reggie’s arrival, yet Ray didn’t look up.
“Ray,” Reggie whispered, chest tightening at the sight. “Buddy…” He sat on the chair across from Ray’s desk. “Talk to me.” He swung his legs over the armrest. “Whenever you’re ready. I’m here, man.”
Reggie had finished humming Finally Free for the fifth time before Ray lowered his hands from his face. His eyes were bloodshot, the bags appeared more protruded in the harsh light of his desk lamp, and he looked so…defeated.
Reggie swung his legs around and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“They can’t be holograms.”
Reggie held his breath.
“Something doesn’t add up. Julie lied to me again, and I don’t know, maybe I should’ve pressed. I let her stay in the band. I’m being loco! I need to have a firmer hand. I need to be stricter.” He ran his hands through his hair and cried out. “I can’t do this without you. I’m failing at this! What would you have done?”
Reggie’s throat worked. “Ah, buddy. Are you kidding me? You’re doing awesome!”
Ray snorted. “You probably would have demanded to meet those boys. ‘To know the members is to know the heart of the band’. I trust our daughter, but…can I trust those boys? Yeah, I know, they don’t live here, but…do they have my little nina’s best interest at heart?” He chuckled mirthless. “Or am I being an over-protective dad?”
“You can trust us! I promise! Luke may act like a bad boy, but he cried during the Mighty Ducks. And Alex…yeah, he may be a little high-strung and anxious, but he's a great listener. And we would never betray Julie’s trust.” He winced as he remembered what they did last night. “Okay. We may have bailed on her last night at the dance.” He held his hands out. “But I promise we will never do it again!”
A part of him still wanted to get back at Trevor, but he could let that go.
He thought about Caleb’s party, being seen by people again, and actually eating food. He licked lips. He could still taste the marinara sauce from the meatball sub. Sure, the place gave him the creeps, but Caleb seemed like an awesome dude!
He never realized how much he missed connecting with others. Talking to someone outside of Luke and Alex. He loved those guys, but meeting new people was one of his favorite things to do.
But all those feelings was nothing compared to what he felt tonight on stage with Julie and the guys. It was…man, he couldn’t explain it!
He wondered what the difference was.
He was glad they met Julie. She was even more awesome than that Caleb guy.
And he didn’t want to let her down again.
A screech caught Reggie’s attention. Ray had slid a plate of brownies toward himself and picked a piece up. He chewed it almost thoughtfully.
“Those look so good,” Reggie said. “Way to rub salt in the wound. Man, I want one.”
Ray finished his first brownie and picked up the second without a breath in between.
“Eeee, Ray, you may wanna slow down. You’re going to give yourself a stomachache.”
Ray finished the second one and grabbed the third.
Reggie groaned. “I’m getting a stomachache watching you.”
Ray picked up the fourth and final piece, eying it.
“Don’t do it. Don’t eat it!”
Ray popped it into his mouth.
Reggie covered his eyes. “I can’t watch! It’s too painful!” After waiting several seconds, he peeked through the cracks between his fingers. He breathed out in relief and lowered his hands. “Whew, it’s over.”
Ray tapped at the edge of the plate, eyes narrowing as he worked out something in his head. He picked up the plate and scooted back.
Reggie threw out his hands. “No more brownies!”
Ray stopped, pulled his chair back in, and set the plate back down.
Reggie clutched his chest and exhaled in relief.
Ray buried his head back into his hands again.
“No! That’s even worse!” Reggie cried out.
How could Reggie comfort this man? He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to lose the love of his life and having to raise two kids on his own. Though, he did feel like he raised two parents on his own. He stood and leaned against the desk.
“Look, man, I think you’re being a little hard on yourself. It’s like what you told Carlos, it doesn’t matter if you’re not the best, only as long as you’re doing your best, right?” Reggie reached out a hand and held it just before Ray’s shoulder. He didn’t want to give the man ghostbumps. “If you want to get to know us, to see if you can trust us, come watch us play. I don’t know if you watched us tonight, but music is what connects us to people. I dunno, maybe there’s something else.”
Like Reggie still didn’t know what connected them to Julie, or why she was the only one that could see them.
Ray’s head shot up.
Reggie pulled his hand back in alarm.
“I can get her a gig. And film it. I’ve gotta call Sweetney in the morning. No.” Ray drummed his fingers on the desk. “I could call her. Yes. That’s it!” He grinned and patted his pockets. “Where did I leave my phone?”
“On the kitchen counter,” Reggie said. He bounced on his heels. “I like this! You’re all pumped up about something! It’s getting me all excited!”
Ray got up and headed for the door.
Reggie sat back on the chair. There. His work was done. He frowned as Ray stopped at the doorframe of the dining room, his features serious. “Ray?”
Ray smacked the doorframe with a soft smile before he looked up at the ceiling. “Thank you, Reggie.”
Reggie’s eyes swelled with tears. “Yeah…” he choked out. “You’re welcome, Ray.”