hoped a very small homeless man found it and enjoyed. The sweats looked almost like a uniform, and they’d joked about that a lot—how they should have Outbreak Monkey gear made and wear it in public. Trav had sent the idea to Heath, and Heath had eaten it up with a fork. Mackey said that making money off the idea sort of took the fun out of it, but Trav just laughed. Apparently that made him feel like he was doing his job.
There was a picture of Shelia and Briony coming out of the puppet store with giant, fluffy puppets while the guys all looked on in horror. Briony’s was a big fluffy llama, and Mackey found himself oddly drawn to it. He liked touching it, and they kept it in the living room so it could be groped and fondled during television time.
Trav took a picture of Stevie and Jefferson racing each other down the Embarcadero, dodging pedestrians and vaulting over a badly parked motorcycle, their faces so fierce and so free Mackey’s chest hurt for the closure they’d found years ago. He finally knew how they felt.
Mackey took a picture of Blake playing a street performer’s guitar, looking like he knew the venue well. Blake’s eyes were closed, and his thin face looked full and angelic. He made the street performer a lot of money in ten minutes, but the best part was when Mackey showed him the picture and said, “Look at you. You love it. That’s the only reason you should do it.”
Blake’s smile hadn’t been captured on film, but Mackey would remember it forever.
They had all taken a picture of Kell and Briony standing side by side at the end of the pier, heads close together like they were telling secrets. And they all noticed that when Briony didn’t have Mackey by the hand, dragging him from place to place to show him something, she and Kell were walking quietly, holding hands in a whole other way.
And Trav took the picture of Mackey singing “River Shadows” when they were on the prow of the ferry, with what looked like nothing but clear sky and bright bay behind him.
Nobody took a picture of Mackey putting the tiniest bit of Grant’s ashes in a baggie, because when they got home they were going to Disneyland, and Mackey was going to bury a little bit of him in a planter at the Enchanted Kingdom, just so he’d be there for the guys.
Kell’s pic of the whole bunch of them asleep on the plane, Mackey drooling on Trav’s shoulder in the foreground, almost didn’t make it into the collage, but then Mackey decided Kell had it right. They weren’t always pretty and they weren’t always posed. This was them too.
The collage was Mackey’s Thanksgiving present to the whole family, since everyone else had helped plan the meal while Mackey was busy writing the new album. He took direction this time. Blake, Kell, the twins—everybody had a note or a verse they wanted to contribute, and he was pretty sure that when they went back to the studio in March, what would come out would be the best music he and his brothers had ever made.
But it was a long time until March. Before that was Christmas, and Mackey was going to meet Trav’s parents and his brother and his sister. Briony’s mother was going to fly down to LA, along with Heather and Cheever, so Mackey could meet her before he left. More importantly, Kell could meet her and the stumbling, shy progression of what looked to be the smartest thing Mackey’s brother ever did could get the parental seal of approval.
And Shelia could plan the special room they were building for Katy, because she was good at that, and she and the boys weren’t planning to have babies until after the next tour.
And Mackey and Trav could be…
Everything.
The morning after they returned from San Francisco, Mackey woke up slowly.
He was in bed. At home. Trav was lined up along his back, hard and warm, and Mackey stretched, pushing against that warmth, but not to break away. Just to touch it a little more firmly.
Trav.
Mackey turned lazily in Trav’s arms and
There was a picture of Shelia and Briony coming out of the puppet store with giant, fluffy puppets while the guys all looked on in horror. Briony’s was a big fluffy llama, and Mackey found himself oddly drawn to it. He liked touching it, and they kept it in the living room so it could be groped and fondled during television time.
Trav took a picture of Stevie and Jefferson racing each other down the Embarcadero, dodging pedestrians and vaulting over a badly parked motorcycle, their faces so fierce and so free Mackey’s chest hurt for the closure they’d found years ago. He finally knew how they felt.
Mackey took a picture of Blake playing a street performer’s guitar, looking like he knew the venue well. Blake’s eyes were closed, and his thin face looked full and angelic. He made the street performer a lot of money in ten minutes, but the best part was when Mackey showed him the picture and said, “Look at you. You love it. That’s the only reason you should do it.”
Blake’s smile hadn’t been captured on film, but Mackey would remember it forever.
They had all taken a picture of Kell and Briony standing side by side at the end of the pier, heads close together like they were telling secrets. And they all noticed that when Briony didn’t have Mackey by the hand, dragging him from place to place to show him something, she and Kell were walking quietly, holding hands in a whole other way.
And Trav took the picture of Mackey singing “River Shadows” when they were on the prow of the ferry, with what looked like nothing but clear sky and bright bay behind him.
Nobody took a picture of Mackey putting the tiniest bit of Grant’s ashes in a baggie, because when they got home they were going to Disneyland, and Mackey was going to bury a little bit of him in a planter at the Enchanted Kingdom, just so he’d be there for the guys.
Kell’s pic of the whole bunch of them asleep on the plane, Mackey drooling on Trav’s shoulder in the foreground, almost didn’t make it into the collage, but then Mackey decided Kell had it right. They weren’t always pretty and they weren’t always posed. This was them too.
The collage was Mackey’s Thanksgiving present to the whole family, since everyone else had helped plan the meal while Mackey was busy writing the new album. He took direction this time. Blake, Kell, the twins—everybody had a note or a verse they wanted to contribute, and he was pretty sure that when they went back to the studio in March, what would come out would be the best music he and his brothers had ever made.
But it was a long time until March. Before that was Christmas, and Mackey was going to meet Trav’s parents and his brother and his sister. Briony’s mother was going to fly down to LA, along with Heather and Cheever, so Mackey could meet her before he left. More importantly, Kell could meet her and the stumbling, shy progression of what looked to be the smartest thing Mackey’s brother ever did could get the parental seal of approval.
And Shelia could plan the special room they were building for Katy, because she was good at that, and she and the boys weren’t planning to have babies until after the next tour.
And Mackey and Trav could be…
Everything.
The morning after they returned from San Francisco, Mackey woke up slowly.
He was in bed. At home. Trav was lined up along his back, hard and warm, and Mackey stretched, pushing against that warmth, but not to break away. Just to touch it a little more firmly.
Trav.
Mackey turned lazily in Trav’s arms and
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