A Snapshot of Dixie

21: The Confessions of a Guitarist

TUCKER

"Austin? What the hell are you doing here?" I shout, watching him climb the steps to the police department.

The closer he gets, the more I can tell that something isn't right. His eyes are bloodshot and his cheeks are stained with tears. What the fuck is happening tonight? It's like a nightmare that won't end!

"I'm sorry to surprise you like this, Tucker, but after your mom told the band you left, things got bad. I couldn't stay there a moment longer."

"What do you mean things got bad? What happened, Austin?" I ask, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

Our gazes meet and I notice a reddish scratch below his left eye. He backs away and stuffs his hands in his hoodie pocket.

"Is there somewhere we can go that's more private? I don't want to disclose all this information standing in front of a police station."

"Sure. My truck is parked across the street. We can go for a drive." I let out, gesturing to move down the steps.

"Fuck, you driving? I don't think that's the best idea for what I'm about to tell you."

Looking at Dixie, I toss her the keys as she gives me a straight-faced look.

"Dixie Mae can drive then. You're starting to freak me out, Austin."

"You're not the only one." Dixie lets out as we reach my vehicle and she walks around to the driver's side.

Opening my door, I gesture for Austin to hop in the backseat before I jump in and close it. Dixie fires up the engine and starts to drive.

Twisting my head to Austin as he looks down at the floor, my curiosity peaks. "Does this have to do with Hattie? I overheard a conversation between the two of you last week."

Austin's eyes shoot to mine. "What did you hear?"

"Something about Hattie's father and following through with his plan."

Austin blows his breath and looks out the window. Obviously, that topic is sensitive. I wonder what the hell could be so bad that he's acting this way? He's generally a pretty happy guy. I don't think I've ever seen him look this gloomy.

"His plan. Pshh, more like both of their plans. You know, I didn't even want this gig? I learned to play guitar in like a two-week period so they could use me as their little puppet. How fucking pathetic does that make me?" Austin leans back in the seat and shakes his head.

"What are you talking about, Austin?" I ask, feeling confused by his confession. Although hearing him say that he learned to play the guitar quickly does make sense. He started with the band about six months ago. When he auditioned he didn't play the greatest, but he's young and I felt obligated to give him his big break. I figured over time he would improve and he has but I've always felt like his heart hasn't been in it.

My last guitarist had a family emergency that required him to quit suddenly. I check in on him from time to time, but Austin has been adequately filling his shoes.

Austin's green eyes meet mine. "I'm sorry, Tucker. I needed the money to help pay for my mom's chemo and now that she's gone– I'm just so sorry." Austin starts to sob as he bows his head. His mom passed a few months ago and he took it pretty hard. She was all he had. No siblings and he hasn't said a word about his father. I of all people understand what that's like so I never questioned it.

"Austin, whatever it is, I'm sure it's not that bad. I know how much you loved your mom. We would all do anything to help the people we love. It's a sign that our heart exists."