“You and I haven’t always been on the same page. But you raised me to make my own decisions, to think for myself, to take the right road even when others try to steer you wrong.” I walk to the door, pausing at the threshold for a beat. “I’ve got a chance at the life I’ve always wanted. I have to take it.”
Grabbing Felicity’s guitar from the hallway, I walk away from my father, from my inheritance, from the only security I’ve ever known.
I don’t look back.
* * *
The phone ringstwice before kicking over to her voicemail. Again.
“Hi, it’s Lacey! I’m not here right now.Obviously. Leave it at the beep! Or, ya know, text me, because it’s not 1995.”
I stab my finger angrily against the screen as the sharp beep tone sounds through the receiver. This is the fifth call she’s dodged since we spoke on Tuesday night. I’ve left three messages with Chris, Clay’s assistant at Red Machine, but he’s not calling me back either. My stomach has been a pit of nerves for the past three days and it’s only getting worse, the closer Saturday creeps. The plane ticket that arrived by courier yesterday leaves at noon tomorrow.
Less than 24 hours from now, I’ll be in Los Angeles.
I can’t screw up this deal. Not now that I’m essentially unemployed and excommunicated from my family. But I also can’t screw over my friends. Not until I’ve expended every other option. That includes begging Clay — and, if necessary, even Lacey — to rework our deal so Aiden and Linc aren’t cut out.
It’s risky. I could lose everything. But I don’t have much of a choice if I want to keep my friendships and my integrity intact.
When I walk out of my bedroom into the loft, the guys are sitting on the couch drinking beers.
“What’s the word on Lacey?” Lincoln asks, absentmindedly twirling a drumstick in his fingers.
I shake my head.
“So she’s not coming to the gig tonight?”
“Highly doubtful.”
“Perfect. Fucking perfect.”
Aiden takes a healthy swig of his beer and sets it on the coffee table before chiming in. “I didn’t want to mention this until I knew it was actually going to pan out, but I talked to a few guys who work at Route 66 Records the other night, schmoozed over a few beers. Fuck if I know why, but they actually agreed to come hear us play tonight.”
“Dude!” Lincoln yells.
My jaw gapes. “Are you serious?”
Aiden grunts in grim affirmation.
“God dammit.” Lincoln’s eyes are wild. “Of all the fuckin’ nights Lacey decides to bitch out on us, she had to pick this one…”
Aiden finishes off his beer, his eyes locked on my face. He’s never exactly chatty, but he’s been staring at me with that strange look since I got home from the confrontation with my father the other night. Perceptive motherfucker. It’s like he somehow knows I’ve got bad news to break before I’ve opened my mouth.
I need to tell them about Red Machine. All day, I’ve been trying to find the right time. I take another swig of my beer, steeling myself. “Guys—”
“I just can’t believe Lacey pulled this again.” Lincoln is muttering under his breath, running his hands through his short crop of blond hair. “I’ve been waiting for our shot to play at Tootsie’s since we first started jamming together. It’s not fucking fair.”
My guilt rears its ugly head again.
Aiden sighs deeply. “We should call the bar, tell them to give away our slot.”
“What?” Linc explodes. “There are record execs coming to see us!Us!Do you realize what a big deal that is?”
“Seeing as I’m the one who convinced them to come, trust me when I say that I do.” Aiden’s eyes are serious. “That’s exactly why we should cancel. We can’t go up there and play cover songs.”
“No,” I agree. “We can’t.”
“You want me to call?” Aiden asks, already pulling out his phone.