Phil made an exasperated sound as he gestured to me with both hands. “Youare left, Dante. A talented young man. Dedicated, hardworking. You have more potential than you realise, not only in your music but in life.” His voice softened, until I could barely hear him over the pounding of my own heart. “Your father would do anything to ensure your success, no matter the consequences. I know that for a fact. But there comes a time in every man’s life when he must forge his own path. This is your time, Dante. The world be damned.”
We stared at each other for a long moment. I didn’t have a clue what to say.
“Think about it,” he added in the face of my silence. “At the end, if you still want to make the changes, we’ll make them. You’ll still have a great album and I imagine it’ll perform well in the charts. But it won’t be…” he made a face as he struggled to find the right word, “it won’t be legendary,” he said in the end. “That would be a damned shame.”
With a simple nod of acknowledgment, I headed for the door. I needed time to think. Phil’s words had struck a chord inside me, as Sean’s had several weeks ago.You haven’t begun to scratch the surface of what you can do.I’d never been encouraged to follow my own path before but, in reality, that’s exactly what I’d been doing this past month. The results had been beyond anything I could have imagined, but all the while I’d known, somewhere in the back of my mind, the songs would never be released as they were. It provided a safety net for my subconscious, allowing me to break myself open without ever truly being at risk.
But what if I removed the net? What if I delivered to the world all I’d learned about myself—complete and uncensored? Would they like what they saw?
I entered the main house, my brain crowded with the possibilities. I didn’t notice Sean until he called my name. Looking up, I saw the tightness around his mouth, the tension in his limbs. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“There’s someone here to see you.” Stepping aside, he revealed a second person in the room.
Roger.
