Spoonful of Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page A

house?”
    “Nope.”
    Jake glanced at the notepad in his hand. “I was told they had a boy.”
    “One too many,” Max scoffed. “I hear the Gilmores never see him.”
    Jake frowned. “But they’re responsible for him.”
    “Yeah.” Max grinned and shook his head. “Responsible for putting a roof over his head, but that’s about it.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Max hesitated. He’d said too much already. “Some foster parents take kids in for the money the state gives them.”
    “The state gives money to help buy clothes, food, and other necessary items to raise and support the children,” Jake explained.
    Max couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah, right.”
    Jake studied him again, and Max could almost read his thoughts. The guy was thinking that he needed a haircut, a bath, a new pair of shoes without holes, jeans, too, and maybe even a coat because it was cold outside. Any minute he was going to make a comment on his appearance, any second. Then he was going to ask why he wasn’t in school.
    “What’s that in your back pocket?” Jake asked, motioning behind him.
    “Huh?” For a moment Max was thrown off guard, then he pulled out his drumstick. “I got it from a local band.”
    “At Athens Alone?” Jake sounded impressed. “I wrote an article about them a couple months ago. They have a great sound.”
    What did he know about music? He was probably just saying that to get him to talk more about his foster parents.
    “My next stop is the music store on Commercial Street,” Jake told him. “My buddy owns the place. Would you like to tag along and play on a real drum set?”
    Max hesitated again. “No strings attached?”
    “No strings attached,” Jake assured him.
    What was with this guy? Why would he offer him something like that? No one ever offered him anything; most times they just wanted to take things away. But he’d been around people who looked a whole lot more threatening than a clean-cut newspaper reporter in an expensive jacket. And Mia hadn’t been afraid of him. She said he was fun. Even if he wasn’t, there was no harm going to a public place.
    “Okay,” Max agreed. “I’ll follow you on my bike.”
    Commercial Street was only a few blocks away. Mia’s stepdad drove his car slowly and came to a stop outside Larry’s Music Center. Max still wasn’t sure what Jake was up to, but he wasn’t about to give up the chance to play on a real drum set. And after a quick word with the owner, Jake kept his promise.
    The owner led Max to a room in the back, a studio used for recording. Wow! A Pearl drum set stood in the middle, with three types of cymbals—two crashes, a ride, and a hi-hat. The set also had a bass drum, a snare, two toms, and a floor tom. Max slid onto the stool, his heart racing.
    “You’re going to need two drumsticks to play,” Jake said, handing him another to go with the one he had. Then he picked up an electric guitar and put the strap around his neck. The owner of the store held a bass guitar and plugged a cord into the PA system.
    “What are you doing?” Max asked, unable to mask his alarm.
    “We’re going to jam with you,” Jake said with a grin. “Is that okay?”
    Jam? Like a real band? Max narrowed his eyes. “Do you know how to play?”
    Jake laughed. “Do you ?”
    Max tested the set, drumming as fast as he remembered how. It had been a long time since he’d played a real set. Eight months. And that had only been for a short time. A friend at school had offered to teach him, but then Child Protective Services sent him off to live with the Gilmores.
    “Not bad,” Jake encouraged. “With some lessons, you’d be a real pro.”
    “That’s the plan,” Max said, and ran his drumsticks over the series of drums again. “I’m going to be in a rock band, play at shows, and make a ton of money.”
    “And what would you do with that money?” Jake asked, not looking at him, but tuning his guitar.
    “I’d . . .” Max didn’t have an answer.