Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“I’ll do it as long as it’s here,” I tell her. “I’ve been working in a studio, so securing time won’t be an issue.”
“Darian . . ." She draws my name out. “You know this is where the magic happens. Musicians are a dime a dozen here. If you need someone, you can pick them up off the corner.”
“I take it you’ve never been to Nashville?”
“Can’t say that I have any clients there.”
“Better musicians here than LA,” I tell her.
“I’ll take your word for it,” she says, laughing. “When can you be here?”
“Can I think about it?”
There’s a pause on Laura’s end. “Since when do you need to think about opportunities like this?”
“Since things got complicated.”
“Ah.” Her tone shifts, and I can hear the smirk in it. “Found yourself a girlfriend?”
“Goodbye, Laura.”
“Wait. Look, I get that you hate me, and you have every right to. But don’t let that stop you from taking this. Rex specifically asked for you. He’s heard your work and wants that exact sound. The label’s offering serious money, and the exposure alone . . .”
“I know.” I watch as Lily runs toward the house, probably coming in for water. “When do they need an answer?”
“End of the week. But Darian? Don’t let this slip away because of your issues with me. This has nothing to do with Van or Reverend Sister or any of that mess. This is your shot.”
After she hangs up, I stand there holding my phone. This is the kind of opportunity I left LA for. Now they want me back, and this time it would actually mean something.
The back door slides open and Lily bounds in, cheeks flushed. “Darian! Did you see my cartwheel? I almost got it!”
“You’re getting better every time.”
She beams at me, then tilts her head. “Are we still having our guitar lesson tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
“Good, because I’ve been practicing that chord progression you showed me and I think I finally got the transition smooth.” She grabs a water bottle from the fridge. “Mom says if I keep improving, maybe she will have a kid evening at The Songbird.”
“That would be awesome,” I tell her.
Rye comes in behind her, grass in her hair and dirt on her knees. “Everything okay? You look serious.”
“Work call,” I say, not ready to explain everything with Lily here.
She nods, understanding immediately. “Lily, go wash up. You’re covered in grass.”
“But Mom—”
“No buts. Go.”
Lily rolls her eyes but heads to the bathroom, leaving us alone in the kitchen. Rye pours herself a glass of water, waiting.
“Someone from my past called with an opportunity,” I tell her.
“Good opportunity or complicated opportunity?”
“Both.”
She leans against the counter across from me. “Want to talk about it?”
“Rex Lawson wants me to co-produce his album. Three to four months. Good money, great exposure.”
“Rex Lawson?” Her eyes widen. “That’s huge, Darian. He’s everywhere right now.”
“Yeah.”
“So what’s the complicated part?”
“It’s in LA.”
The kitchen goes quiet. Rye’s face shifts through several emotions before settling on something neutral.
“Three to four months,” she repeats.
“Yeah.”
“That’s an incredible opportunity.” Her smile is fake, forced.
“It is.”
“You should take it,” Her words come out too fast. They’re not the ones I expected to hear from her.
“Rye—”
“No, really. This is exactly what musicians wait for. You can’t pass it up because . . .” She gestures between us.
“Because what?”
“Because of whatever this is.”
“You don’t think this is something?”
She sets down her water glass. “I think we both know that career opportunities like this don’t come around often.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Darian.” She says my name like it exhausts her. “We’ve known each other for what, a few months? You can’t make career decisions based on that.”
“What about Lily?”
Something flickers in her eyes. “What about her?”
“I’m teaching her guitar. She’s counting on me. Her dad already—”
“Don’t.” The word comes out sharp. “Don’t make this about her father. That’s not fair.”
“I’m not. I’m making it about my promises. About being someone she can count on.”
“She’ll understand. Kids are resilient.”
But I hear what she’s not saying. That kids are resilient because they have to be. Because adults make decisions and children adapt.
“I haven’t said yes,” I tell her.
“But you want to.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“Yes, you do. You want the album and the career boost and the recognition you deserve. And you should have all of that.”
“What if I want this too? You and Lily and Sunday mornings teaching her guitar?”
Rye looks away, out the window at the indent in the grass from their practice. “People always think they want a simple life until something better comes along.”
“That’s not—”
“My ex left for a job. Said it was temporary. Never came back.”
“I’m not him.”
“No,” she agrees. “But you’re still a musician with dreams bigger than playing in coffee shops in Nashville.”
Before I can respond, Lily comes back into the room, hands clean but hair still wild. “Can we work on the bridge section? I keep messing up the timing.”