Misty stood in the kitchen with her back against the sink. Her arms were crossed angrily across her waist. In one hand she held a cigarette and in the other was a steaming cup of black coffee. She glared at Judy, who sat at the table staring blankly at its surface. Tears slid down her cheeks and her eyes were red rimmed from her crying.
“So,” Misty demanded her anger momentarily in check, “What’s he going to do, Judy. And when’s he going to do it? He’s been here long enough! Over three months! He needs to make a move one way or the other!”
“I don’t know, Momma,” Judy replied, wiping her eyes. “All he does is practice his songs and read his music books.”
“And eat like a damn horse!” Misty added sarcastically. “Well, you need to say something to him. You brought him here.”
“I don’t want him to go,” she replied seriously. “I like having him around.”
“You haven’t been sleepin’ with him, have you?” Misty asked in a concerned tone.
“I’m twenty-one! So, if I was, it would be my business, Momma!” Judy retorted.
“You’re under my roof, Judy,” Misty said seriously. “Everything here is my business! Now, answer me!”
“I haven’t been sleeping with him, Mom! Okay?”
“Well, see what he’s gonna do, then. It’s still business ‘till it gets personal.”
John stopped in the doorway, hearing the last part of Misty’s statement. He automatically assumed she wanted him to leave. He had become used to being rejected and took it all in stride. The only people who hadn’t turned their back on him so far, was Billy and Judy, and Misty; up until now, that is.
“You want me to go, Misty?” John asked, innocently.
“No,” Misty replied, before Judy could. “I just want to know what you’re going to do, John, besides sit and practice, day in day out.”
“Do about what?” John asked, completely missing her meaning.
“Money,” Judy said angrily. “She doesn’t think you’re pulling your weight. You’ve been here three months already and all you do is practice playing the guitar. And eat, according to her!” She shot an accusing glare at Misty.
“I’m sorry,” John said, not knowing what else to say. “How do I get started? Where do I go?”
“Ever hear of a recording studio?” Misty asked arrogantly.
John seemed to think hard, staring at the floor, before he looked directly at Misty and said, “I don’t think so, Misty?”
Misty rolled her eyes heavenward, took a deep drag from her cigarette and sucked the smoke deep into her lungs, blew the smoke half out of her mouth, half out her nose, flipped the ashes in the sink, sipped her coffee. “You’re worse than Billy!” she stated angrily.
“Billy’s a good kid, Misty,” John said with an honest smile. “I like Billy fine!”
Misty looked over at John with eyes of fire. She found it nearly impossible to believe a grown man John’s age was so ignorant about life. Either he was the most ignorant man she had ever met, or he was a profound actor and should be in Hollywood instead of Austin!
“Judy, do something with him!” she said seriously. “Get him out of here! Take him to a recording studio or something! We need some money or Brant’s Finance is going to foreclose on the loan and take this house from under us!”
John looked over and down at Judy. He wondered what Misty was talking about; take the house? Where would they take it? He thought it was firmly anchored to the ground, somehow. “What does she mean, Judy?” he asked innocently.
“I’ll explain in the car. Now come on,” she replied, jumping up, taking his arm and rushing him out the door. “Go get the acoustic guitar!”