Dustin settled back into his old routine without much trouble. He played a little guitar.
Watched TV and ate a lot of chips. Except when his mother informed him if he wasn’t doing anything else productive, he could at the very least keep an eye on his baby brother, Milo.
When he had the chance, he hung out with his buddies. Well, what was left of them. Which was mostly Dario, since everyone else had long ago moved on. Even Dario talked about getting out of the old neighborhood. “We’re not in high school anymore, you know? Maybe growing up wouldn’t be such a bad deal.”
And of course, he took in as many concerts as he could nab tickets for.
“Wow,” a girl Dustin talked to at one show remarked, as Dustin filled her in on some little-known tidbits about the band currently on stage. “You sure know a lot about music. Too bad you don’t actually play, right?” Dustin tried to explain that actually, he did play. But she was too caught up in watching the guys currently on the stage to listen.
After he got home from the show that night, Dustin ran into his dad in the hallway. Maybe some of the weird, itching discontent Dustin was feeling showed on his face. Maybe his dad had been preparing his little speech for a while and finally found the perfect time to deliver it.
“Son, you have to find something to do with your life. Something that lights you up and makes you eager to jump out of bed in the morning. You have this dreamy-headed idea that if you wait around, your ‘destiny’ will come to you. But you can’t wait. You have to take action. You have to go out and find it for yourself.”
Dad slapped him on the shoulder.
“I know you had your heart set on music, Dustin. But if you can’t cut it as a musician, then pick something else.” Dad hesitated before adding, “Something that pays would be a good start. I love you, son, but you need to start pulling your own weight.”
Dustin decided to sleep on it.
Marcus wasted no time on diving back into his usual lifestyle. During the day, he filled the spare bedroom of his grandparents’ retirement pad with music.
At night he went out… Partying with the boys.
Romancing a cute little redhead.
Chatting up a brunette at the bar when the redhead went to the restroom.
By nine, he’d collected the brunette’s phone number. By eleven, he’d banged the redhead in the coat room at Narwhal’s. By midnight, he’d broken things off with the redhead and was free and clear to pick up the bartender when her shift ended at one.
Yep. I’ve still got it.