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Break Up To Make Up? Think again

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We sucked. More than that, we sucked to the nineth power of all sucktitude. Chris looked like he could cry.

Dazed, we went outside and sat on Chris's lawn. We reminisced about old times, gigs and girls mostly. Finally I spit it out: "We just didn't have it," I said. "Tom Petty has it. We don't. Didn't. Whatever."

Chris sighed and nodded in agreement. We looked at each other and smiled. Somehow, it felt like a weight was off both our shoulders.

Yesterday Chris called to tell me that he just scored a gig playing with a wedding band. He sounded happier than he'd ever been. At last, he had what he'd always wanted, a steady job playing music. "Just do what they say," I told him. "Don't mess this up like the others."

Chris chuckled and said he wasn't going to do a thing to blow the gig. He'd learned. So had I. For one afternoon, we went home again. That was enough. And we have Tom Petty to thank for it.

By Joe Bosso