"She leaned forward, "You what?"Something snapped and Steve let everything spill out. "I felt like someone stuck a knife in me and was twisting it. I ...aw you with him and I couldn't take it. It's the same thing as when they called me about the divorce, I thought I was going to pass out." He stopped, suddenly worried he sounded like an idiot.Terry was quiet for a minute. She never took her eyes off her drink. "Now you know how I've felt every day since you left." There was silence between them. As a result, he was pretty much the one who had to do the things a father normally would; mow the yard, fix things when they broke, et cetera. He had graduated from college with honors and was now back home looking for work. Typical life.However... as far back as he could remember, his mother and eventually his little sister, had always been harsh on him... If his team won a game, his mother would laugh and tell him it was because he didn't play that much. If he passed a test, his sister would. "I know, but I'm coming with you; the regulations and commanders can go straight to Hell if they don't like it!" she gripped onto his arm as they were talking, stumbling towards the lift. When they finally made it there, struggling to see where it was through the dust and debris that was beginning to fall in the corridors, they both cursed, the lift having crashed down to the bottom of the shaft.Ben leapt out onto one of the electromagnetic propulsion rails built into the wall, holding onto it. He licked his lips the way he must have before a session at the Savoy, Cotton Club, or any number of elegant clubs where, back in the day, he and many other Black musicians were forced to enter by the back door. He fixed his chapped lips around his reed instrument and serenaded Inez and Antoine with ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.’ Whether affected by the old man’s mojo or simply the gentle swagger of his sax, the pair moved inches closer to each other. They both squinted through the soot-tinted.