The Last Firework

Adrian looked annoyed when he walked into the station.

Lily followed behind him in one of his oversized hoodies, her hair loose around her face. She stayed close to his side, quiet and pale, like she had been the one sitting under fluorescent lights for hours while her father's calls kept flashing on a phone she was not allowed to touch.

Adrian took one look at me and frowned.

"Was this really necessary?"

My throat was raw from asking the officer for my phone.

"My mother is in hospice," I said. "I called you nine times."

"I was in rehearsal."

"You didn't answer my text."

His jaw tightened. "Because I didn't think you'd break into my house."

"I needed the tape."

"You could have asked."

"I did ask."

Lily's eyes filled at once. "Adrian, I'm sorry. The alarm went off, and security called me because I was still at the house. I saw the office drawers open, and I panicked."

Adrian looked at her first.

That tiny movement told me enough.

The officer brought over a form. "Mr. Vale has agreed not to press charges for now. Ms. Lane will be released after signing the warning. She is not to return to the property without permission."

Adrian signed without reading.

I held out my hand. "My phone."

The officer gave it back.

There were twenty-seven missed calls from my father.

The last voicemail was from forty minutes ago.

I pressed play.

"Mira." My father's voice broke on my name. "She waited as long as she could. I played the little recording from my phone, but she kept asking for the real one. She kept saying you'd bring it. Honey, she's gone. I'm so sorry."

For a moment, I could not move.

The station kept going around me. Phones rang. Someone laughed near the front desk. An officer walked past with a coffee in one hand and a folder in the other.

Adrian's irritation finally slipped.

"Mira?"

I looked up at him.

"Where is the tape?"

He frowned. "What?"

"My mother's cassette. The release form. The drive you said Grant was digitizing. Where is it?"

His expression changed.

"I gave it to Grant."

"You gave my mother's only original recording to your manager?"

"He was handling the anniversary package."

"Did he send it back?"

Adrian did not answer.

Lily glanced between us, then said softly, "I thought Grant said you were saving the original for the showcase."

Adrian turned toward her too late.

I stared at him.

"You kept my mother's tape for a showcase?"

"It wasn't like that."

"She was asking for that song before she died."

His face went still.

Lily covered her mouth. "Mira, I didn't know—"

"Don't."

She stopped.

Adrian reached for my arm, but I stepped back.

"I didn't know it was that urgent," he said.

"You didn't know because you didn't pick up the phone."

He swallowed. "You said she had good days and bad days."

"She was in hospice."

"You should have told me clearly."

"My text said my mother was asking for the old tape and I needed it now. How much clearer did it need to be?"

Adrian opened his mouth, then closed it again.

For once, he had nothing ready. No excuse, no joke, no way to make the room believe he had only been misunderstood.

After a long silence, he lowered his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said.

The apology came quietly, almost stiffly, as if he was not used to saying it without turning it into someone else's fault.

I used to wait for those words. After forgotten dinners, missed calls, bad interviews I had cleaned up for him, lyrics he sang like they had come from nowhere, I used to think one real apology would make the years feel less foolish.

Now it only made me tired.

"You should be sorry," I said.

His face tightened.

For a moment, he looked like he understood there was nothing left to fix. Then he looked at me the way he looked at a bad show before the encore, still convinced the night could be saved if he chose the right song.

"Let me make it up to you."

I said nothing.

"I know this isn't the right time," he said quickly. "But next week is your birthday."

I froze.

Adrian noticed.

His voice grew gentler.

"I booked the private room at San Vicente weeks ago. It was supposed to be a surprise. Just dinner. You, me, a few people from the label."

Lily's fingers tightened around his sleeve.

Adrian did not look at her.

"And Miles Hart will be there," he added. "You always said he was the only producer you'd trust with your songs. I invited him for you."

That name made me pause despite myself.