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  “I’ve made up my mind where I’m gonna live,” he said, breaking the silence.

  “I’d be really honored and happy to have you hang with me if it’s okay with your moms,” Jimmy told him.

  “Thanks, Jimmy, but Tina’s giving up her home and her business. I think she’s gonna need me. No, I know she’s gonna need me. I hate moving, changing schools and all that, but I love my mom, so that’s what I have to do.”

  “How’d you figure that one out?” Jimmy asked.

  “I just listened to my heart,” Jesse explained.

  We all took that in while Jimmy handed out sticks with marshmallows on them. Then Gabe blew his nose and asked the big question he’d been waiting to ask for so long.

  “Jimmy, when you were my age, were you allergic to anything?”

  “Nope,” Jimmy said.

  Gabe’s face fell.

  “I was allergic to everything,” Jimmy continued. “I sneezed and snorted all the time. I almost forgot about that.”

  “How did you get over it?”

  “I grew up, Gabe. Well, not really, but I guess I grew out of it.”

  “Then there’s hope for me,” Gabe said, grinning.

  “Don’t even doubt it, my man,” Jimmy said, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “One day you’ll wake up and it’ll be a little better. Then one day, like magic, it’ll be gone.”

  “Like magic. I like that,” Gabe breathed. “When my dad used to tell me that, I didn’t believe it because he always puts a positive spin on stuff.”

  “That sounds like a good thing,” Jimmy commented.

  “Yeah, my dad’s a really, really good guy.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  “Well, when I was five, he got me my own little Butcherelli Auto Shop uniform and told me that he hoped I would follow in his footsteps. Then when I was nine and won first prize at a science fair, he sat me down and said, “I think my footsteps may be too small for you.”

  “That’s heavy and kind of wonderful,” Jimmy said. “You’re lucky to have a dad like that.”

  “What was your childhood like?” I asked Jimmy.

  “Not good,” he sighed, licking a marshmallow from his fingers. “My dad died when I was two and my mom remarried. He was a bad guy. He drank a lot, and he beat me up a lot. I took off as soon as I graduated from high school and never looked back. I wanted to start all over. I even changed my name.”

  “What was your real name?” I asked.

  “Savitsky,” said Jimmy. “Jacob Savitsky.”

  “But your tattoos, the cemetery thing.”

  “I know, I know. That’s what my mom said, but what better way is there for a nice Jewish boy to rebel? Now that I’ve rehabbed and Twelve-Stepped, I’m not as pissed off anymore, and sometimes I wish I could erase my tats . . . except for Donor 908 ’cause that’s how you guys found me.”

  “So we’re all half-Jewish. I can’t wait to tell my BFF, Sasha. I skipped getting a tat because of her. Now I guess I could only ink half of me. If you were me, would you do it? I’m a rebel just like you.”

  “It’s up to you, my girl child. Listen to your heart. Hey . . .” Jimmy’s face suddenly brightened with an impish grin. The conversation was getting too heavy for him, I could tell.

  “How about we tell ghost stories now?” he suggested.

  We stayed on the beach until way past midnight. It was amazing how much fun it was just telling stories and trying to scare each other, acting silly and laughing . . . just being together. It was something I’d never even dared to dream about. It was heaven until we had to remind Jimmy that he had a concert the next night and he better get some sleep. Then we all walked up to the house with our arms around each other’s shoulders, and my brothers and I tucked our dad into bed and turned out his light.

  chapter twenty-nine

  I came into the house the next morning to find Gabe gazing down at the beach while he ate his breakfast on the deck.

  “What’s so interesting down there?” I asked as I poured some orange juice.

  “Take a look,” he responded.

  I looked down to see Jimmy and Jesse walking a labyrinth made out of sand.

  “When did Swimmy build that?”

  “Early this morning,” Gabe told me. “When Jimmy came in, he started asking Jesse about his hemp sandals, and Jess asked him if he’d like to walk the labyrinth with him. That was an hour and a half ago.”

  “Something tells me that Jimmy’s path is going to be revealed,” I said. “You know, we’re a very weird family.”

  “But we’re a family,” Gabe said.

  “I guess we are. And we each have two: our families back home and the one we’ve made for ourselves . . . with Jimmy. Maybe that’s why we’re the Lucky Sperm Club.”

  Just then, a surfer in a wet suit and facemask walked past Jimmy and Jess. They all nodded at each other the way people do when they pass on the beach.

  “There’s something familiar about that dude in the wet suit. It’s the way he walks or something,” I told Gabe.

  “You probably just saw him yesterday.”

  “I guess so,” I said, as Jimmy and Jesse spotted me and headed back up the stairs to the house.

  That evening, we piled into a limo with Jimmy and rode down to The Forum. It was only six, and the concert didn’t begin until eight. But fans were already gathering.

  Jimmy looked down at Jesse’s hemp sandals. “Those shoes really do speak to me,” he said. “They’re more than shoes.”

  Jesse smiled. “Yeah, they are.”

  “Hemp and I were very close until rehab,” Jimmy continued. “But now I’m looking at the weed in a whole new way.” He threw Jesse a look. “I’m looking at a lot of things in a new way.”

  It was then that the fans somehow figured out that Jimmy was in the limo. Someone screamed his name, and the crowd began rushing toward us. Seeing what was happening, the driver sped up and turned into a secure, chain-link protected, VIP area. At the same time, security moved in to control the sea of shrieking Jimmy fanatics.

  “It’s a little scary being a rock star,” I said to Jimmy.

  “Not half as scary as being a dad,” he told me.

  We got out of the car and walked through the tunnel to backstage. Jimmy’s new assistant, Chris, met us and draped backstage passes around our necks.

  “What’s up, my brother?” Jimmy asked him.

  “Nobody’s outrageously drunk or noticeably high,” Chris reported.

  “These are my babies, man: KT, Jesse, and Gabe. Keep an eye on them.”

  “Will do,” Chris assured him. “Sound check was cool. Big Dee sang for you.”

  “That taken care of, it’s time to rock and roll.”

  Jimmy moved into work mode now. He was speeding down the dimly lit hall so fast that the rest of us had to jog to keep up with him.

  “Listen up, my children, while I run down the rules.”

  “We’ve been to concerts before,” I told him.

  “Not with me, so pay attention. Do not go to the bathroom. Do not drink anything that doesn’t have a sealed cap. Do not eat anything but Fritos, Cheetos, and fruit.”

  “I’m good with fruit,” Jesse let him know.

  We turned down another hall and there was Toxic, the bass player. A hot blonde was all over him.

  “Hey, Tox. Looking lovely, Desiree,” said Jimmy.

  They gave us all a little wave, and Desiree winked at Gabe. Jimmy didn’t slow up, and Chris jumped in front of him to open the door to the dressing room. A heavyset, forty-something woman with piercings was waiting inside. She was Jimmy’s new makeup lady, and she had all his stuff laid out.

  “You guys know Toxic from rehearsal, but you don’t know Toxic,” Jimmy went on. “Just let me just say that I would prefer you did not get too close to him. I saw the wink, Gabe, and Desiree is not a nice girl. She’s not monogamous, if you know what I mean. She thinks they have an open relationship, and Toxic doesn’t. It make
s him crazy. I mean vicious crazy, looking-for-a-fight, busting-someone’s-head-crazy. So beware, Gabe. The rest of the band is benign, although be sure to decline anything in the way of smokes that Fingers may offer you. And if Sticks wants to help you clear your nose, Gabe, just say no politely. Do not stand too close to the speakers, stay out of the roadie’s way, pick up your feet so you don’t trip on wires and unplug anything, and watch your step in general.”

  “Is there anything we can do?” I asked.

  “Listen to your dad.”

  He tossed Jesse a pair of sneakers.

  “Can I borrow those grass slippers, Jess?”

  “Sure.” Jesse flipped off his sandals, put on the sneakers, and grinned. “Same big feet.”

  “Now why don’t you guys hang outside for a while?”

  We all started to leave, but Jimmy had something on his mind. “Hey, Gabe, stick around a minute.”

  Jess and I went out, waited a second, looked at each other, and glued our ears to the door. Something was up and we didn’t want to miss out on it.

  “What’s with you, kid?” Jimmy was asking Gabe. “This concert scene not your thing?”

  “I’m good,” said Gabe.

  “Hey Shiloh,” Jimmy said softly to the makeup lady, “give us five, okay?”

  Jesse and I jumped away from the door as the makeup lady exited. Fortunately, she headed down the hall toward the food spread instead of staying with us. We leaned our heads against the door again.

  “Tell me,” Jimmy said.

  There was a moment of silence. Whatever it was, it wasn’t easy for Gabe to talk about. Finally, the words came.

  “It’s like this,” he said. “I see your talent in KT, but I’m so tone-deaf, I flunked chorus. You and Jesse have a million things in common. You’re both . . .”

  “Really good looking. Here, Gabe, put my boots in the closet.” “Yeah, you are,” said Gabe.

  “Catch my socks,” Jimmy directed.

  “Maybe we should have another DNA test or something. KT and Jess look just like you, but there doesn’t seem to be any of you in me.”

  Jimmy’s voice was intense. We could almost see him leaning forward and looking Gabe in the eyes. “Listen to me, Gabe,” he said. “I have to work really hard at liking myself. You come to it naturally. I have to work really hard at being the kind of person I want to be. You do it as easy as pie. You’re the unscrewed-up me I might have been if Joe Butcherelli had been my dad. We’re connected on a very deep level.”

  You could tell he meant it.

  “Hey,” said Gabe. “Check out your toes . . .”

  “What do you mean?”

  “And check out mine.”

  Jimmy let out a belly laugh. “You got it. You got the Savitsky webbed toe.”

  “The Savitsky toe,” Gabe marveled. “That’s something special.”

  “So are you, my boy child,” said Jimmy. “And now you’ve got something of me to pass on to your kids.”

  They both laughed. Jesse and I peeked in. They were doing some hug-substitute punching that ended up in the real thing. We closed the door silently.

  “Don’t . . .”

  “Talk to Desiree. I know.”

  And Gabe walked out to join us.

  “Guess what,” he said. We let him tell us what had happened because it was a way for him to relive the moment, and we didn’t want him to know how nosy we were. He looked as if he had just won the lottery.

  We could hear the excitement building out front. The crowd was beginning to clap impatiently when Chris came up to us. “Clear the hall and come with me. It’s showtime.”

  chapter thirty

  Then Jimmy, followed by the band, moved quickly through the wings toward the stage. We stood aside and kept our heads down so as not to look at Desiree.

  “My lady,” Jimmy said, seemingly to no one, and a roadie placed a guitar in his outstretched hand. He stopped in front of us as the band dashed on stage and manned their instruments. The audience grew even more excited and began chanting, “Jim-my. Jim-my. Jim-my.”

  “I want you to stay right here where I can see you,” he told us. “You okay, KT?” I nodded. “This show is dedicated to all of you.” And with that, Jimmy Savage took the stage.

  The power of his voice and guitar and the band’s energy on the opening song, “Undefeated,” blasted the audience out of their seats and to their feet. His performance made them believe that they could do anything, that they, too, could be undefeated. It was amazing to look at their faces and see how his music could transform them and make them invincible for that moment.

  The three of us looked out on a sea of fist-pumping, screaming rock and rollers. Some were in their twenties and others were in their thirties and even forties. Some had come with their kids, and all of them were taking off on the rocket ship that was Jimmy Savage.

  They were loving Jimmy, and they were filling him up with that love, making him forget all the bad things that had ever happened to him. It was such an intense love affair, I understood why Jimmy felt that having a relationship with ten thousand people was easier than having a relationship with one person. The song ended to cheers and applause and cries of “We love you, Jimmy.” He let them carry on for a while, and then he held up his hands for quiet.

  “Thank you, everybody,” he said. “I want to share something with you tonight.” He paused to milk it. “I just became a father.”

  The audience went nuts, whistling and applauding.

  “Seems about seventeen years ago, I was a sperm donor and my biological kids just found me. Fortunately, I wasn’t around to screw ’em up during their formative years, so they turned out just fine.”

  The audience laughed, and Jimmy continued.

  “They can thank the families that raised them for that. I do. I thank them with all my heart. Wanna meet my kids?”

  There was huge applause, and Jimmy looked into the wings where we were watching. He held up his foot with the hemp sandal.

  “Hey,” he cracked, “somebody stole my boots. No, not really. See these kicks I got on? They’re moo-free and kind to the earth, and they belong to my son, Jesse. Get out here, Jess.”

  Jesse walked on stage as if he’d been doing it all his life. He smiled and waved to the audience. Someone yelled, “He looks just like you, Jimmy.”

  “He may look like me, but I wanna be like him. He’s got a cool view of life.”

  Jesse gave Jimmy a thumbs-up, and the audience applauded.

  “And now my other son, Gabe,” Jimmy went on, as Gabe took a few steps on stage. He smiled at the audience shyly.

  “We share a special bond, and you can bet he’s gonna do something more important than I ever did.”

  Everyone clapped, and Jesse and Gabe walked back to the wings.

  “And now my little girl, KT. She and I have a surprise for you.”

  I walked out and Jimmy motioned me over to the mike. What happened after that may have been a surprise to the audience, but it wasn’t a surprise to me because we’d rehearsed that afternoon. Jimmy began playing a wicked rock riff, and “Big Dee” brought me my guitar.

  I joined in with Jimmy on the riff, and the audience applauded. Then I began to sing the new song called “Handing Down a Dream” that my dad had taught me that same afternoon. He supported me with his guitar and encouraged me with his eyes. I pretended that it was just us alone, playing together the way we did in Malibu, which is what he had told me to do. Then, when I was sounding good even to me, I hit the chorus, and Jimmy began to sing with me.

  The song exploded and the audience exploded with it. It felt as if the roof was going to come off the Forum. I looked out into the house. I could only see the first few rows, but right there in the middle of row one, a familiar face was looking up at me. His eyes were filled with love and pride. It was Dylan. He gave me an A-OK gesture and a smile that was impossible to resist. I couldn’t help smiling back.

  Jimmy and I soared and dipped and blended in that
special way we had that was part of our DNA, and when the song reached its climax, we were deep in the pocket and wailing in perfect sync. We were so hot that the audience couldn’t wait. They stood up for us right then, and when we reached the end, they roared their approval. My dad and I held hands and bowed and let the moment wash over us. He squeezed my hand and looked at me with such joy and love, I thought I would die from happiness.

  After the concert and all the hoopla that followed it, everyone else was more than ready for bed. I was still pumped from the whole experience, so I wandered out onto the deck. The sky was velvet and the stars seemed close enough to touch. I was excited and happy and full of dreams and song ideas. Then I heard a whistle, and I looked down at the beach. It was Dylan.

  I motioned for him to join me, and he raced up the stairs. We grinned at each other, and I hugged him without even thinking about it.

  “Wow!” he said, hugging me back. “This is unexpected.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the happy, amazed look on his face.

  Then he told me that Jesse had been texting him ever since the cantina. He had been kept up to date on where we were and everything that had happened to us, and he had always been close to me. He had, in fact, been the dude in the wet suit on the beach who had seemed so familiar.

  We stood on the deck, leaning on the rail, watching the waves roll in and deposit their lacy, white foam on the sand.

  Then Dylan took me by the shoulders and turned me to face him. He smiled down at me, and his eyes were dark and sweet and gentle.

  “You didn’t look at all nervous last night singing in front of all those people,” he said softly. “Were you?”

  “A little,” I answered. “And then I saw you . . .”

  He cut me off. “And you were too pissed to be nervous.”

  “I wasn’t pissed,” I told him. “I still don’t know how I feel about you, Dylan, but my heart is open now.”

  “I’ll find my way in,” he whispered. “I believe amazing things can happen.”

  With that, he took me in those great guitar arms of his and kissed me, and that kiss tasted tender, sweet, and exciting at the same time, like a beautiful new beginning.