by Emma Scott
“You looked it up?” Violet teased.
“Hell yes, I did. Your dad would have my nuts.”
Her face fell. “I doubt he’d notice if we did it on the dining room table while they ate.”
“Interesting visual.” I gave her a squeeze. “Any new developments?”
She shook her head against my chest. We’d come to her last class of the day, History.
“They still haven’t told me everything, but I’ve sent in all my scholarship and financial aid applications. The only thing left to do is wait and see how much I’ll be on the hook for.”
Her brilliant, optimistic smile returned—the one that I loved so much. Mostly because it was the yin to my yang of eternal pessimism.
“I’ll make the best of it, so long as I get to stay here.” Violet kissed me softly. “Santa Cruz is, after all, only a short flight from Los Angeles where you’ll soon be making records.”
That pessimism put a smirk on my face. “Doubtful.”
I didn’t add that I loathed the idea of being apart from her for any length of time. Not to come off like a possessive asshole but being with Vi made me feel whole. Like how I’d felt when she’d bought my guitar back from the pawn shop. A piece of me had been returned and I never wanted to go without again.
“I have no doubts,” she said. “Have you heard you?”
Her unfailing belief in me warmed my damn heart. And I hoped she was right. If I hit it big, I could pay for her college, and her parents could take their dysfunctional bullshit and shove it.
The bell rang. “I gotta go,” Violet said. “Come over tonight?”
“I’ll be there. Hey, Ronan’s in this class, right?”
“In theory. He hasn’t shown up the last few days.” She frowned as students filed around us. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know. I’m worried about him. Holden too. They’re both acting weird and not hanging out much at the Shack.”
Violet looked around. “Shiloh’s not here today either. I’ll shoot her a text and see what’s what. I’m late and so are you.” She kissed my nose and hurried inside the classroom.
Technically, I was late to PE and technically, I didn’t give a shit. I meandered in the general direction of the gym, hoping VP Chouder and his sixth sense for sniffing out tardy students wouldn’t catch me.
My phone buzzed with a text. I fished it out of the back pocket of my jeans. Evelyn.
How much do you love me?
Not touching that one. Before I could reply, she sent another, and the phone nearly tumbled out of my hands.
The correct answer should be A LOT. Becuz it happened!!! A rep from Gold Line Records emailed me!!!!
My fingers trembled as I typed. Don’t fuck w/ me, E
Swear to God!
A string of hearts, then excited and wide-eyed emojis followed. My pulse thrashed in my ears.
Where are you? I typed.
Beach. 2 nice 4 school. But since u went viral, I check email religiously and HOLY SHIT BABY!!
Wasn’t touching “baby” either; I was too busy about to have a heart attack. I sank down on a bench outside the gym and hit call, then held the phone from my ear as Evelyn squealed.
“Slow down,” I said. “You’re freaking me out. Start from the beginning and tell me everything.”
“It was ‘Take What You Want from Me,’ The Post Malone cover you did. It put you over the edge. Three million views. Million.”
“Holy shit is right,” I breathed.
“I knew it. I knew this would happen,” she crowed. “The email came this morning from an executive assistant to some guy named Jack Villegas. I’m not a complete moron, so I googled him to make sure we weren’t being catfished. Sure enough, major player at Gold Line. But I had to be one hundred percent, so I called the phone number and the assistant answered the phone. When I said I was calling for Jack Villegas, she didn’t say Who? Or Wrong number. She said, He’s in a meeting, what is this regarding? I mean…Fuck.”
I ran a hand through my hair. Is this real? This can’t be real. “What…uh, what happened then?”
“I hung up.”
“You did what?” The blood drained from my face.
“I know, I panicked, which is so unlike me. But it felt so surreal. Like I was making a crank call. But it’s okay. I knew without a doubt that Villegas was legit, so I wrote an email back as your assistant. I mean, he’s seen the blog; he knows I basically rep you. An hour later, he replied. He wants a meeting. With you. In Los Angeles. On June 4th.”
More squealing and this time, I did drop the phone. It clattered to the ground, and I sat with my hands in my lap, every muscle in my body going slack.
Evelyn’s voice was tinny, shouting for me. “Miller? Miller, hello?”
I picked up the phone again. “I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”
A meeting in Los Angeles. With a major record label. This couldn’t be real. The universe was fucking with me, and I wasn’t going to fall for it.
“I can’t fly to LA,” I said. “I can’t afford a flight or even a ride from the airport. And where would I stay? I don’t know anyone there—”
“Honey, relax,” Evelyn said in a quieter tone than I’d ever heard her use. “I know this is a lot. Believe me. But it’s real. They are paying for the flight. They are going to send a car from the airport. They are going to set you up in a hotel.”
I clenched my jaw to keep from either laughing or bursting into tears. “It’s real,” I croaked.
“It’s real,” Evelyn said, then brightened. “Now, you need to come over for a strategy session. And do you have a suit? Something nice to wear to the meeting? Never mind, I’ll put something together.”
She prattled on and on, and I just stared ahead at the road that had opened to me. A possible future away from the grind and anxiety of endless poverty.
“Evelyn,” I said, cutting through her talk. “Thank you.”
“Thank me later, babe. Oh my God, this is so exciting! Not that I’m surprised. I gotta go. Call me as soon as you’re done with school or work or whatever. Shit, Miller, put in your notice at that fucking arcade. This is it!”
I hung up with her and stared at the phone in my hand. I wasn’t about to quit my job. It was only a meeting in LA. That didn’t mean anything. It was probably an audition. Maybe I’d suck in front of this Jack Villegas guy. Or he’d see right through me. That I was just another poor bastard with a sob story, trying to make it.
“Jesus, stop,” I told the runaway train of shit talk as I pocketed my phone. “Can I have a little hope for one fucking minute?”
“Talking to yourself again, Stratton?”
I looked up to see Frankie Dowd standing a few feet away,
“What do you want, Dowd?”
“Who me? I got nothing to say to Evelyn’s bitch.”
I snorted a laugh. If only he knew. I started to push past him, but he stepped in front of me.
“Where you going?”
“None of your fucking business.” I balled my hands into fists. “You going to move, or I do I have to move you?”
“How? You gonna sic your rabid dog on me?” He grinned like a loon. “Oh, that’s right. Wentz isn’t around, is he?”
Something in his knowing tone dripped down my spine like ice. I gripped Frankie by the collar and yanked him to me. “What do you know about it?”
He tore out of my grip and walked backward, hands outstretched. I wanted to punch the shit-eating grin off his face. “Don’t know a thing. See you around, bitch.”
When he was gone, I pulled out my phone again and shot a text to Ronan as I walked out of the school. Fuck going to gym.
Where U at?
I’d walked halfway home when the reply came.
City Hall picking up my citizenship award.
I gave a short laugh. Ronan was so much fucking smarter than anyone knew. Street smart and a smartass. But I recognized his deflections.
For real. U OK?
<
br /> It was risky, prodding him even that much. He might go radio silent on me as a signal to mind my own business.
Stay out of my shit, Stratton.
Case in point.
But Ronan was being Ronan. I sighed with relief that he was okay, but I needed more assurances, and Evelyn’s news was like an electric current, zipping around my nerves and balling in my stomach. I needed to talk it out before I puked. I wanted to sit around a fire at the Shack with my friends. Ronan would give me no end of shit, while Holden would want to throw a party. And both reactions would mean everything to me.
And Violet…Violet would cry and tell me she’d known it all along. Because she’d believed in me since the beginning. I blinked hard until the phone came back into focus.
Shack 2nite? I texted.
I walked another block before the reply came.
Busy. Can you tell Lord P to put the fucking weights back when he’s done?
Another deflection. Ronan would never ask for a favor. Ever. Even one disguised as a gripe. I tried another tack.
Haven’t heard from H. U?
But I already knew Ronan was done talking.
“Fuck.” My concern for him ratcheted back up. I texted Holden, but there was no answer with him either. There wasn’t anything to do. My friends would talk when they wanted to talk. I had to respect that; I demanded the same from them.
Since my friends were AWOL and Violet was still in class, the first person to hear my news would be Mom. As I stared up at the roach-infested building with the shitty plumbing, that felt exactly right.
I stepped into our place cautiously, the knot in my stomach tightening into fear.
Coming home shouldn’t feel like this.
Because it wasn’t home. It was shelter only and not even our own anymore. At least when we’d lived in the car, it was ours.
Mom was sitting on the couch watching a game show. The coffee table was littered with garbage, beer cans, and overflowing ashtrays. Mom looked gray, as if the ash in the apartment had settled over her as well.
Not ash, dust.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, moving to sit beside her. She was only forty-two years old, but the last five years had aged her a lifetime. Her dark hair streaked with strands of gray, hung limply around her shoulders, and lines gathered at the corners of her eyes. All of it, Dad’s fault.
Fuck him and Chet, both.
Mom smiled tiredly. “Hi, baby. How was school? You’re home early, aren’t you?”
I glanced around. The place was quiet but for the TV, and our lone bathroom door was open, showing it was empty. “Where’s Chet?”
“Went fishing in Capitola with some buddies. Won’t be back until tomorrow.”
“Good.” I sat down on the couch and surprised her by taking her hand in mine. “I’m going to get us out of here, Mom.”
She gave me an indulgent look. “Is that so?”
“I’m serious. Something happened today. Something big and I…” My words cut off as I spied a bruise on Mom’s forearm. Several bruises in the shape of fingers. A man’s fingers. “Mom…what the fuck is this?”
She withdrew her hand and pulled down the sleeve of her shirt, even though it was at least eighty-five degrees in our AC-less shithole. “It’s nothing. Tell me about this something big.”
“Chet did that, didn’t he?”
“Let it be, Miller. It’s not a big deal—”
“When?” I seethed. “When did he do this?”
“The other night. I don’t remember. I told you, it’s nothing.”
“Has it happened before?”
“No,” she said, and her stern tone told me it was the truth. “It was one time.”
One time was too many. I ground my teeth. He’d hurt her. He’d hurt her, and I hadn’t been there to protect her. I’d been at the Shack or at Violet’s. I let this happen.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m going to fix it, I promise.”
“You’re a good boy. But there’s nothing to fix.”
“There is. We can dump his ass on the street. I’ll toss his shit right now—”
Mom grabbed my arm with surprising strength and sat me back down. “No, Miller. You leave it alone. We need his disability. I can’t keep on like I have been. My back is getting worse, and I can’t go back to working two jobs. I just can’t.”
“You won’t have to.” I swallowed hard and inhaled a breath. “A record executive in Los Angeles wants to meet with me. I’m going to make him give me a deal on the spot and an advance. You won’t have to worry, okay? You won’t need Chet anymore.” Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked hard. My voice turned gruff. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?”
She smiled gently. Her hand, rough and calloused from work, touched my cheek. “Okay, baby. I’m tired. Going to take a nap. There’s leftover pizza in the fridge if you’re hungry. Just make sure you save some for Chet. He’ll be hungry when he gets back.”
Except I couldn’t eat pizza. Too hard to calibrate with my insulin since the carb release lasted hours. Something Mom already knew.
She retreated to her bedroom—their bedroom now—and closed the door. My heart clenched. She was so beat down, she didn’t believe a way out was possible, even when she heard it.
I sat for a few minutes in the quiet, but for the TV game show. I had to go to school and to work and eventually this meeting, leaving Mom alone with Chet. I contemplated changing the locks on our door, but it would only enrage him when he came back. And Mom would let him in, anyway.
“Fuck.”
I ran my hands through my hair, that goddamn helplessness swooping back in to smother the shred of excitement I’d had.
I need Violet.
I dragged myself to work at the arcade, handing out cheap prizes in exchange for Skee-Ball tickets and freeing tokens that had been jammed in their slots. A drunk asshole kicked the Mortal Kombat console when he got his ass beat.
“But I have a meeting with a record exec,” I murmured.
The words were drowned out in a sea of noise and explosions. It didn’t sound or feel real, and it wouldn’t until Violet heard it. Then maybe I could believe it too.
Chapter Nineteen
A little after nine o’clock, I heard the familiar creak of the trellis outside my bedroom window. Butterflies took flight in my stomach. I sat on my bed, wearing only a sheer tank top and short-shorts, nerves and excitement racing through me in equal parts. Over the last few weeks, Miller had continued his streak of being a perfect gentleman, kissing and touching me without removing any clothing. To take things slow and make sure I was ready for every step we took together. But I’d never felt more sure of anything in my life. I’d never felt more sure of us.
Tonight, I wanted to show him that trust. To show him my body, to feel our skin touch in a hundred places
We don’t have to have sex for me to show him that I’m his.
The night was warm and my window already open. Miller crawled through and hopped down off my desk.
“Hi, you,” I said, my voice a little breathy.
He froze when he saw me. His blue eyes were liquid and soft, drinking me in. “God, you look so beautiful…” he said and then covered his face with one hand. His shoulders began to shake.
I hurried to him. “Miller? Hey…”
Wordlessly, he folded me into his embrace and pressed his face to my neck. Hot tears were absorbed in my skin as I held him tightly and stroked his hair.
After a while, he pulled back and turned away, wiping his cheeks in the crook of his arm.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I said softly, my heart bracing itself. “What happened?”
“A record exec wants to meet with me,” he said gruffly. “In Los Angeles.”
I stared, my jaw falling open. My hands flew to my chest. “Oh my God… Oh my God, Miller, are you serious?”
“Gold Line Records contacted Evelyn through her vlog.” He shook his head, disbelieving. “They’re even going t
o pay for the flight and hotel.”
God, my heart was breaking for him, even as it soared with joy. He suddenly looked like a little boy, wanting the new life that has been offered to him but not yet letting himself believe it was his.
“Of course, they will,” I said, my throat thick. “I knew this would happen for you. I knew it.”
“I didn’t. I still don’t. It doesn’t feel real.”
I took his face in my hands. His beautiful eyes were a salty storm of hope and fear, searching mine for the truth.
“It’s real,” I said. “This is the first step. Your big break.”
I could see him struggle. “This doesn’t happen to guys like me, Vi. I’m going to screw it up. Or they’ll take one look at me and realize they’ve made a mistake.”
“They won’t,” I said as a sharp prick of anger at his father bit me. For leaving his beautiful son and condemning him to a lifetime of uncertainty. “This doesn’t happen to just anyone. But you have a gift, Miller. They’re going to hear you and they’re going to love you. Just like everyone else.”
Just like I do.
Miller was quiet for a few seconds, then sniffed a laugh. “God, I’m a fucking mess.” He looked up at me, a faint smile touching his lips for the first time. “Come here,” he said as he pulled me in close again and held me tight. “I knew if I told you, it wouldn’t seem so fucking crazy.”
“It is crazy,” I said, laughter bursting out of me. “It’s out-of-this-world-level crazy, but I’m so happy for you. And you can be happy, too. Okay?”
He heaved a steadying breath. “I guess. It’s just…a lot. I’m freaking exhausted.”
“You look it,” I said, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “You want to sleep with me?”
Miller smirked. “That’s a loaded question.”
I grinned and tugged him to the bed with both hands. “I meant to just sleep. Although I’m flexible on that point.”
He laughed tiredly as he kicked off his boots. We lay down face to face, our hands entwined, our gazes roaming and tracing and memorizing.
“Who else knows about this?” I asked. “Did you tell your mom?”
He nodded. “She didn’t believe it either. Not really.” His eyes darkened. “Chet—that asshole—is hurting her.”
