ship to wreck | s.k. (ongoing)

iv

"how was your evening?" my father asked. he rounded the corner and entered the living room, shedding his suit jacket as he stopped in the doorway. when his gaze shifted, i noticed a surprised glimmer in his eye. "oh, good evening sam," he greeted, tossing his jacket over the back of the lounge chair.

sam smiled and gave a brief wave, "good evening, mr. whitlow."

my dad waved a hand dismissively and shook his head, "please, call me marc." this was something he said often. he hated formalities in small settings or casual occasions. "i wasn't aware piper was having company," my dad added, shooting me an inquisitive but pleased look.

"i invited the whole band over for dinner but they just left," i explained. "sam, here, was just about to leave too," i added, hoping sam would take that as his queue.

"how was your evening, marc?" sam inquired, dodging my obvious hinting. i sighed and crossed the room to collect my dad's things. picking my dad's coat up, i straightened out the sleeves and brought it over the the small closet across the hall where i hung it for later use.

when i came back to the living area, sam and my father were enthralled in conversation. my dad had spilled that he was working on a new album as well as the soundtrack for an upcoming film—all information that was supposed to be under wraps for now. i stood and listened for a few moments while they conversed, finding the dynamic between the two intriguing.

sam was very much into jazz piano which was a topic my dad could have discussed for weeks straight, but apart from the topic of music the two seemed to click. it was like they'd been friends before and i found the thought ever so slightly concerning. at the same time, however, it was kind of cute to see my dad interact with someone just as passionate about their music as he was and to see sam match every ounce of my dad's enthusiasm.

"can i get you a drink, sam?" my dad asked, making his way over to the liquor cabinet.

"i'll have whatever you're having," sam replied. while my dad's back was turned, sam caught my eye and cast a wink. i rolled my eyes and subtly shot him a bird. sam chuckled silently at my gesture.

my father returned with two whiskey glasses, a dram of amber-colored liquid in each. he passed one off to sam, "do you want to see the music room?"

sam's eyes widened at the offer and he nodded, "i'd love to see it."

i pinched the bridge of my nose and watched as the two made their way down the hallway. sam trailed my dad through the wide corridor until they reached the furthest door on the right. i followed slowly after, feeling like the biggest third wheel in the world.

"right in here," dad swung the music room door open and ushered sam inside. i stepped in behind them and watched as sam moved around the room, admiring the variety of instruments. my dad's collection was pretty impressive, so i really couldn't blame him for that.

jazz is an extensive genre and my dad dabbled in just about every instrument in it. on top of that, he enjoyed what he called 'creative sessions' where he'd invite a bunch of other musicians over to collaborate and have a good time. so, naturally, he had collected a wide array of new toys over the years.

"this is amazing," sam said, the awe evident in his face. his fingers grazed the keys of the old baby grand in the corner, "is this where you record, too?"

"it is," dad confirmed before adding, "you're welcome to play around."

sam looked around the room, taking in the spread of instruments to pick from. he noticed the bass guitar off to the side and went for it. lifting the strap over his head, he clicked on the amp then plucked at the strings. i glanced over at my dad who gave me a look that told me he was having fun torturing me by keeping sam here.