GRIT (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 2) (23 page)

Silver quickly informed him that Denise was in the hospital, speaking to the staff. He sniffed, feeling the cool touch of Damsel Depression making her way into the room. Just then, a doctor approached.

“Are you Zenith Taylor? Hiawatha Taylor’s power of attorney and grandson?”

Zenith nodded and got to his feet, right along with Silver and Javier.

“Okay,” the doctor said seriously. “He is awake.” Everyone sighed with relief. “However, your grandfather is still not doing well. His heart is giving out, and with his overall health and age, it would be far too risky to attempt to perform surgery at this juncture.”

Zenith swallowed, then nodded in understanding. Reality was a spiky little pill, which cut on the way down.

“This has been an ongoing issue. You grandfather has advanced cardiovascular disease, Mr. Taylor. His arteries are damaged and many of them are altogether blocked. This was noted in his medical records from his general practitioner; however, it looks as if he has had several recent strokes that may have gone undetected and of course, his increased high blood pressure is cause for alarm, as well. Let me be candid. It really is a miracle that he is still here, with the level of disease and its fast progression as of late. We spoke to his caretaker, she’s been very helpful.”

“…Denise.”

“Yes, and she gave us a list of all his medications. He has Alzheimer’s, correct?”

Zenith nodded.

“So, as you can see, a number of different things are going on here.”

“I just need to know… is there anything I could have done to help prevent this? Did I miss something?”

“No.” The doctor shook his head emphatically. “Absolutely not. There is nothing you, Denise, or his doctor could’ve done. At this point, we just want to keep him comfortable. I am recommending hospice.” The doctor clasped his hands over his stomach. “This means he can have that care at your home, where I understand he now resides, or here at the hospital. The choice is yours. We want to keep him for the rest of the day, though.”

Zenith took a deep breath. “Okay, yeah… Well, tomorrow then, after he’s discharged, I’m going to bring him home with me.”

The doctor nodded. “I’m sorry about this, Mr. Taylor. When these things happen it can leave people feeling a bit helpless, but please believe we are doing all we can for him. It is obvious that you care about him a great deal. Give us a few minutes and you can see him shortly.” He turned to walk away.

“Uh, Doctor—” Zenith called out.

“Doctor Phillips.” The man paused and turned back in his direction.

“Yeah, Dr. Phillips, has he said anything? Maybe asked about me or anything like that?” At that moment, he felt Silver’s hand trailing slowly up and down his back, soothing him.

“Well, I wasn’t in the room the entire time. But I did hear him say that someone named Osha was sitting beside him. He said she was waiting for him.” The doctor looked down the hall then back into his eyes. “He also said… he couldn’t go home with her just yet, and he thanked her for agreeing and understanding why…”

“Why?” Zenith asked quietly, his heart beating a mile a minute.

“He said because he wasn’t quite done…because he needed to say goodbye to his Zen first, and give him the final lesson of the four seasons…”

T
he rustling noise
of the napkin in his hands unnerved Zenith for some strange reason. The toasted crust from the pastrami sandwich fell onto the white plate with each bite he took. Crumbs dotted the sides of his mouth. A limp pickle sat on the plate, all alone and sad.

“It was pretty weird when Silver called me,” Javier finally stated, plucking his thick glass of water from the table and taking a gulp. Zenith took in his surroundings. The restaurant wasn’t too crowded—a good thing.

“Why’s that? She’d already called you before that and set both of us up. We were framed.”

Javier burst out laughing and nodded in agreement… then, his smile slowly faded. He looked off into the distance then back into Zenith’s eyes.

“She’s good people, you know that? I like her.”

Zenith sat back in his chair.

“I know. That’s why I’m holding onto her. No matter how scared I get, I’m more afraid of the thought of losing her, not having her in my life.”

“That’s real, man… that’s real.”

They sat quietly for a couple of seconds.

“You’re referring to your parents, right?”

Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together. “Yeah,” Zenith said. “I think… I’ve always been afraid of settling down and having things turn real fucked up. But, I want to marry her. I even bought her an engagement ring…bought it a while ago, actually. Just gotta ask…that’s it.”

“Are you serious, man?” Javier stopped dead in his tracks, his brow arched up in enquiry. “Zenith… that’s… that’s beautiful man. Sounds like you found what I sing about, huh?”

“Yeah, I believe I have. I can’t let what happened to my family stop me. She deserves better than that. Hell.” He huffed. “I deserve better than that.”

Javier sighed. “Here’s why I said it was weird though. I was just getting ready to call you, man. I was literally grabbing my phone to call you and try to meet up, talk things out and give you some news.”

“What news?”

“Well, Silver called me telling me Paw was in the hospital just when I was going to call and tell you. I jumped in my car and drove to the hospital but right before Silver called me, just like ten minutes earlier to that, I got a call from that lady from the wedding.”

Zenith’s eyes narrowed on the man. “The agent and talent scout?”

“Yeah, she and her husband are the real deal, but he does some other shit, too. Anyway.” He picked up his glass of water and took another gulp. “She recorded our last two songs, she said. She played it for her husband—his name is Kevin by the way and her name is Janet, and uh,” he said, his lips twisting in a smirk, “yeah… they’re interested in us, man.”

“Damn, that’s great. Do you think they’re trustworthy?”

“Yeah, but we are about to lawyer up because they want this ball rolling pronto. Kevin wants to get us into one of his own studios, have us make a new CD, and uh, I want to use that song you wrote for me some odd years ago, too.”

“Awww, man!” Zenith grimaced and waved him off. “I’m not a good writer, Javier. Don’t use that. I was just fucking around.”

“Nah, fuck that, Zenith. That shit was fire and you know it was. It was a good ass song, an original, not a cover. I write, too, you know I got some other shit up my sleeve, but that song right there,”—he nodded and pointed across the table at him—“it was dope, man. We’re using it.”

Zenith decided to let it go. Besides, if Javier liked it, who was he to judge?

“Okay, so after we cut a professional sounding track or two, what’s next?”

“He’s already got us pre-booked if we agree to the parameters. And this ain’t no penny ante shit, either. We’re talking The Bowery Electric, Joe’s Pub and Music Hall. This ain’t no joke. I already checked him out and advise you do the same, Zenith. He’s big time. He doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t believe will bring him some money. The mission is to get a label to court us, and he believes we have a good ass chance. Now, with what’s going on with Paw right now, the timing couldn’t be worse, but—”

“No.” Zenith shook his head. “It’s fine, actually. The hospital wants to keep him longer because he had some fluid in his lungs. I just came from there, actually. I hope to get him home next week, but uh, he’s in good hands. They have him on so much medicine right now,” he said, shaking his head, “it’s amazing he even knows what’s going on.”

“Zenith, man,” Javier said. “I’m sorry about what’s going on with him. He was good to you, and me too, man.”

Zenith nodded.

“He was the only guy that would let us practice in his house, loud as hell, all into the night.”

Zenith laughed lightly. “Yup. He understood.”

“He was funny and smart… I never knew my grandparents, so he became my grandfather, too. I love him, man. I cried all the way over to the hospital after Silver let me know what was up.”

“Thank you for coming… I appreciate that.”

“You don’t have to thank me. We’re best friends… you’re like my brother.”

Zenith swallowed and looked away.

“I know we weren’t talking, and some bad blood spilled between the two of us. I was hurt, man…and jealous, too.”

Zenith was perplexed at that statement.

“See, back in the day, I got all the attention, right?” He smiled proudly. “The lead singer
always
gets the attention of the ladies, or so I thought. Then, as we got a bit older and grew into our own, you started changing. Physically, and musically, as well. I realized you could sing, too.”

“Nah, I can’t sing.”

“Stop all this I can’t write and I can’t sing bullshit, man,” Javier dismissed him. “We both know it’s bullshit… Anyway, you and I were practicing, day after day, with the band, and that cracking voice of yours from when you were in the 9
^th
grade had disappeared. By the time you hit seventeen, your voice had dropped real low, and… you were singing, and you sounded
good
. I was…unable to tell you. I was afraid people might like you better. That’s crazy, ain’t it?” Javier shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I never knew you felt that way, Javier.” His heart beat a bit faster.

“I know you didn’t. Nobody wants to feel less valued, underappreciated. I was a short Hispanic kid and what I had going for me was my damn voice. No, you didn’t sound better than me.” He chuckled. “But you still could sing, and you had the total package. You were tall, attractive, suave, the ladies loved you, and you could play the drums like ‘whooooa fuuuuuck!’”

Zenith burst out laughing.

“You were smart, too, and people liked you. I was glad we were best friends—not just because you were a cool ass person, but so I could keep an eye on you. I didn’t want you to take attention from me, and you didn’t, though you could have and…” He looked away once more then turned back in his direction. “I think you always knew you could; you were just kind enough not to…”

Zenith ran his hand across his face, real slow and easy, and closed his eyes. All this time, he’d hidden from the truth Javier laid at his feet.

It was true, all of it. But he valued Javier so much, he never wanted him to feel he was stealing his thunder. After all, the man was the brainchild behind ‘Pure Grit.’ He was the originator, the father and the one planning and running the show. Javier was loved by most, but hated by a few… and he appeared highly confident, almost cocky… and yet, this shocked the hell out of Zenith. He had no idea the man had been insecure about him, not in the least.

“So, it wasn’t just about Pop Evil’s manager seeing us play and zoning in on you, man. That shit hurt because my biggest fears were comin’ true, man! It was a damn nightmare.” He shook his head. “They wanted YOU. Not Flip, not Manuel, not Mike, not me… YOU.”

“Do you want to know what went down with that?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I got offered the position as their new drummer, Javier.”

Suddenly it seemed as if the blood drained from the man’s face.