“Don’t call him that.The idiotic nickname. His name is Barrett. And this is completely unacceptable. You have been admitted to Julliard! That is where you will go. Not some . . . job. Harrison, tell him!”
My father doesn’t glance up from his newspaper. “Listen to your mother.”
He expects me to follow her orders. She expects it, too. Their self-assurance that I’ll fold pricks at every nerve in my body as anger replaces my joy. I’ve always given in. Done what’s expected. Well, it ends today. “There’s nothing either of you can do. I’ve already signed a contract.” It’s a white lie, but she’ll never know.
Mother raises an eyebrow and narrows her stare. “But what about Julliard? You cannot disregard your commitment!”
I take a sip of my coffee and push away my uneaten breakfast. I shouldn’t be surprised by their lack of support, but it irks me all the same. Pushing from my seat, I tap at the screen of my phone and request a ride before raising my chin to meet her stare. “I’ve already delayed my admission. I’m taking the year.”
“The year?You’re taking a year? Honestly!” My mother pushes her chair away from the table and redirects her glare to my father. “Harrison!”
Dad refolds his paper and places it on the table with a calm that balances out my mother’s outrage. “Is this really necessary, son?” He meets my stare and shakes his head before pointing at Mom. “Look how upset this has made your mother.”
“That’s why I have to go. I’m done living for you both. I’ve given you everything. Played the perfect son. But I won’t be your puppet. Not anymore.” I shake my head and drop my gaze to my phone. My Uber is almost here.
“Don’t be dramatic. We’ve given you everything!” Mom shouts. At my lack of reply, she sputters and flails her arms. “What am I supposed to tell everyone? The symphony board of directors? My friends?”
“Tell them . . .” I rein in my annoyance and force the practiced smile I’ve mastered from years of being polite. “I’m taking a year to rediscover my love of music.”
“Bullshit!” She slams her hand on the table and hits it with so much force Dad’s coffee sloshes out the sides of his mug. “It’s utter nonsense and I’ll do no such thing.”
“Fine. Tell them the truth.” I shrug.
My father’s lips pinch with disapproval that’s probably as much for my choice as it is for causing my mother grief.
She glares with a rage I’ve never witnessed before, but I must be broken or mad, because it literally does nothing more than assure my conscience I’ve made the right choice.
“Tell them I’ve run away and joined a rock band.” The real smile is back and I can’t help but bounce on my toes. I’m that excited.
“I amsodisappointed in you.” Her glare doesn’t just cut. It’s murderous enough I’m glad I was too chicken shit to tell them any earlier.
My phone pings with the alert that my ride is here. I back away toward the door and give a brisk wave. “Yeah, well, right now the feeling’s mutual.”
* * *
The drivefrom Laguna to the studio of Off Track Records is enough time for me to second guess my decision about a thousand times. Am I being imprudent? Yes, I am. But the spontaneity of my choice only brings another shot of adrenaline. I feel alive. Really alive. Even if this is the most foolish thing I ever do, it’s worth it for that alone.
I pull my suitcase behind me and push open the front door to the studio. Inside, a receptionist greets me with a more than friendly smile. Her gaze lingers longer than it should—a familiar attention—and I use her attraction to my advantage.
“Hey, gorgeous.” I quirk my eyebrows and part my lips like I don’t know how fucking attractive I am to women. I’ve been blessed, not only with an aptitude to memorize every note I hear, but in the genetics department, too. The truth is, beautiful people garner more attention. It’s understandable; my devilishly handsome grin is hard to resist and I use it to my full advantage. Resting my hands on the front of her desk, I lean forward into her space and flex my arms so they’ll bulge against the short cotton sleeves of my shirt.
She blinks, several times, and her lips pull with a wide smile. “What can I do for you today?”
My gaze drops to her open cleavage and then to her lap where she crosses her legs and gives me an inappropriate eyeful of leg. She wants me. It’s almost too easy. Actually, it is. I let loose a chuckle and my amusement only grows with the visible shiver of her response. I wait until she glances back up from under her lashes. “I’m here to see Bedo Slade.”
“Bedo . . .” She repeats his name, her voice in a lull before she shakes her head. “Right. Oh, um . . . Do you have an appointment?”
“He’s expecting me.” I wink and hold her gaze until she drops it first.
“Right. Let me, uh . . . just . . . Hold on one sec.” She finally pushes a few buttons at the phone before speaking into her Bluetooth. “Mr. Slade. There’s someone here to see you.” Her face goes white and her eyes wide. “Right. Sorry. Yes, I know you don’t have any appointments until ten.” She stares at me with a mixture of embarrassment and fear. “Sorry, Mr. Slade. Yes, of course. I’m sure he has a name.”
Before my uncle chews her out any longer I lean over her desk, close enough so my uncle can hear. “Tell him his new drummer is here. And I don’t like to wait.”
Her face blushes, either at my uncle’s response or how close I am to her lips. “He says he’ll be out in a moment.”
I straighten my spine but I might as well entertain myself until he comes out. Propping my butt on the edge of her desk, I tinker with a container of paperclips before meeting her stare again. “Thank you . . .”
“Elizabeth, but everyone around here calls me Lizzy.”
