Southern Rocker Boy (Southern Rockers Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

piano. By the end, we had enough to pay off our mortgages, but the creditors for everything else were still circling above like the vultures they were.
    By the week of our move, Mama couldn’t even handle the disappointment anymore. I was in charge, to oversee each and every transaction, to get as much money as I could out of them. Since I didn’t have her emotional attachment, it seemed the most logical choice.
    But it still hurt. Every time I saw a piece of our furniture hoisted onto the flatbed of some picker’s truck, I saw a bit more of my childhood sold to the lowest bidder.
    I couldn’t afford to be emotional, however. I summoned Jackson Riley with every handshake hello, determined to be as pragmatic as my father was.
    By the time we were reduced to the bare minimum of what we were taking with us, I wondered what good it had done him in the end.
    I kept their old brass bed for Mama and Leah to share once we settled in the city. I sold the old pine armoire in my sister’s room, but kept the rocking chair. I sold our appliances, since those were already provided in our new apartment. Mama couldn’t watch as they carried away her grandmother’s antique stove, with its enamel finish she had restored so lovingly, to replicate her memories of cooking in her Granny’s kitchen.
    Ironically, it fetched a better price than many of our other pieces, which carried as much sentiment as they did history.
    What we didn’t sell we ended up donating to the First Baptist Church and to Goodwill. It was our last ditch effort to keep our load light as we bid our farewell to country life.
    Mama asked for me to sing at church our last Sunday in attendance, but I politely declined. That honor went to Courtney, which made the goodbye to our congregation even more strained. Instead I sang to Mama and to Leah by the river cutting through our land. Despite all we had lost, and were leaving behind, I sang It’s a Wonderful World . At first my Louie Armstrong impersonation made them laugh. But the longer they sat together, holding each other, looking out over the pasture in the quiet light of day, the song took on a whole new meaning. By the end, they were in tears.
    Hell, even I got a little misty.
    We packed up in the pickup truck, pointed our car south towards Austin. The radio played, but none of us spoke. Mile after mile slipped away beneath us, as did rural living. Pretty soon the traffic got heavier, the buildings got bigger and by that evening, we were turning off the freeway overpass toward our new apartment.
    The bland, standard two-bedroom apartment with white walls and beige carpeting was even smaller with our stuff than it had been without it. I unpacked what I could while Mama kept herself busy putting things away and hanging homey touches on the wall. We ordered pizza to be delivered, because now we could do that, and worked all the way through till nearly midnight to settle in. I had a separate room, with my double bed, one nightstand and a dresser, but it still felt like I was packed tight like a sardine.
    I glanced over at my phone, which had a text alert. It was from Courtney. “ Good luck in Austin, Jonah. I hope you finally find what you are looking for .”
    I texted back, “ Thanks. You too .”
    I had barely sent it when she responded. “ I already did. And I’ll always be waiting if you ever change your mind. Love, C .”
    I sighed as I put the phone back on the nightstand and turned out the light.
    I was up by dawn, dressed and ready to meet with my Mama’s boss to get an entry-level position at the factory where she was going to work. It turned out to be a formality. Mr. Bivens hired me on the strength of my mother’s reputation as a former employee, which put extra pressure on me not to let either of them down. For the next week I was up early and went to bed late, sometimes falling onto the mattress fully clothed, every muscle aching from overuse. Mama was hard at work in the office, whereas I was on the