Wicked Beat

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Rebekah adjusted the pillow beneath her older brother’s head.

She smoothed the blanket over his lap. Plucked a stray hair from his hospital gown and flicked it onto the powder-blue carpet. Shifted his arm into a more natural position at his side. Licked her thumb and rubbed at a spot of mustard near the corner of his mouth.

Wincing, Dave turned his head, trying to escape her spit bath.

“Will you knock it off, Reb?”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just nervous. Are they really coming?”

“Of course they’re coming. They’re back on tour next week and haven’t fired me yet.” Dave scowled and clutched his blanket with one hand. He could almost grip it tightly now. Rebekah wavered between pride and despair when confronted by how far Dave had come since his accident and how far he had left to go in his recovery.

“And they are never going to go for this plan, Reb. Never.”

“I’ll just be filling in for you temporarily, Dave. Until you can go back on tour with them. You’re unquestionably the best front of house engineer on the planet, and you’ve come up with the perfect solution for their dilemma. They’re not going to fire you.”

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