Free Cake: A Love Story by J. Bengtsson

left behind. I spent the short stretches of time at home between tours trying to reestablish the bonds. I was lucky. My family never blamed me for the way I acted. In fact, they welcomed me back with open arms. After that, I never took them for granted again.
    Kyle slammed into the side of me after a violent push from my incredibly irritated sister. I had been deep in thought and hadn’t seen what he’d done to piss her off. Emma was more of an introverted person, preferring peace and quiet to the chaos that a rowdy family of eight always seemed to provide. As a kid, Emma loved getting Kyle and I in trouble. We couldn’t do anything without her telling mom on us. I always viewed her as the enemy. But after the kidnapping, when I was so scarred and afraid, it was Emma who would sit silently for hours in whatever room I was in just reading a book. We never spoke but it was what she didn’t say that stuck with me all these years. She was there for me unconditionally when my life was at its worst. I’d never forgotten her loyalty.
    “Stop it, Kyle!” She screamed.
    Kyle raised his eyebrows in amusement. I could tell from the look in his eyes he was not even close to stopping whatever he was doing to irritate her.
    I pulled him back. “Relax, idiot.”
    “Fuck off,” he whispered in my ear so mom wouldn’t hear.
    “Stop now or I’ll tell mom what you did in Greece,” I whispered back.
    He scowled at me. “You wouldn’t dare.”
    “Try me,” I replied.
    “Then I’ll tell her what you did in Japan.”
    “Go ahead. Because by the time I’m finished telling her what you did in Russia she won’t even care.”
    Kyle glared at me. I glared back. Finally he sat back up, ignoring our sister.
    Emma glanced over at me then looked away. I saw the slightest smile on her face. That was Emma…always subtle.
    I smiled as I breathed in, feeling relaxed despite the turmoil in the car. My life on the road was filled up with constant schedules and lots of pressure. I rarely, if ever, took the time to relax and goof off and feel like a kid again. Sometimes, on the road, I felt so old…and isolated; especially now that Kyle was gone. And really, I shouldn’t feel that way because I travelled with a 60-plus crew. We spent a lot of time together…too much time. Everyday was a new city or new country or new audience. I mean, we all worked great as a team and we were friendly with each other but, on a personal level, I held them at arm’s length, never letting them get too close. When they had parking lot parties at the venues after shows, they invited me but I rarely went. And if I did go, Kyle was always with me. It just felt weird hanging out with them during off hours. They always seemed a little nervous when I came around, like they had to be on good behavior. It was clear that they viewed me more as their boss than their friend and I was okay with that.
    It wasn’t that I was trying to be a guarded asshole but I was not good at opening up to people. Only those I genuinely loved and trusted ever really got to know me. Everyone else in my world was approached with caution. Just like Kyle said, a lot of people had ulterior motives when it came to me. There was a big payday to be had for information about my life, especially if that information included something about the kidnapping. Crewmembers, a manager, even random hookups had sold me out in the past, although they really had nothing but lies to sell. Even the most honest person could be swayed if the money was right. Case in point…my grandmother’s former best friend who sold a story about my mental state when I was fourteen-years-old. It made it hard to know whom to trust, so as a general rule, I trusted no one…especially not the goddamn media. When I was a kid, those assholes made my life a living hell. Now that I was an adult and could speak for myself, I decided that I didn’t owe them a fucking thing. I refused all interviews. The media didn’t take kindly to