“That’s assuming your music makes money.” She tapped her fingers on the contract she had yet to sign. “And do you even know my name?”
“Of course I do. It’s Suzie Naylor. And you’re fine bringing me a large coke with no ice in it. I liked that.”
The woman smiled. “At least you know that part.”
“I tripled your business that night I performed. You told me that,” he reminded her.
She shook her head. “I understand that. You already proved to me your music is growing in popularity, so forgive me if I was being a little flippant a moment ago, but I still don’t have a clue as to why you want to give me rights to your music. No artist just gives their stuff away like that when they have the potential to hit it big and make stacks of money.”
He pointed at the contract. “I have people who are trying to make claims to it, and as long as you have it, they can’t. Plus, it’s already making me miserable. My music is supposed to make me lighter—happier. It shouldn’t be a source of contention. I just want to create it—not scrape it off the payment after others run over it.”
She nodded instead at this point. “Okay, yeah, I can understand that, but I . . .”
Her trailing off and eventual silence told him more than he needed to know. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me. Most musicians aren’t very trustworthy, are they?”
“Most of them are junkies.”
“I can get you a urine test right now to prove I’m clean. I’ve never done drugs.” He swallowed. “Well, with the exception of when I was like two years old. But that was my dad’s doing, and he’s the one trying to get his hands on my music now. He doesn’t deserve it, even if he saved my life.” He said it all in a whirling rush.
Her brows joined together to make one bushy, chaotic mess.
He didn’t like that. Brows should make sense. That was their job since they framed the eyes, and eyes said a lot.
This just said she needed a fine-toothed comb or something. And maybe some tweezers.
“You know, I should probably tell you that the night you performed, after you left, there was a lady here looking for you.” She paused, glancing at the door. “Two of them actually.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them to fucking piss off, and that it wasn’t my job to tell them anything about you.” She fingered the edge of the paper with her eyes still on the door.
“Did they leave right after that?” His stomach felt a little tilted for a moment. Like it was telling him to lie down in case this was a bad thing.
“One of them did.” She cocked her head and looked up at him through her lashes like she was skeptical about this whole deal. “The other sat at the bar. She acted like she thought you might return.” She exhaled with a rough, choppy sound. “Young. Pretty. I carded her soon after. Turns out she was nineteen, so I kicked her ass out. She had a fake ID on her that got her past the security at the front doors, but I could tell she was nervous about something and lying through her big tits and straight-up through her perfect white teeth.”
“Ryan is her name.”
“Yeah, that’s it. I remember it was a boy’s name. I thought maybe that ID was fake, too.” She grinned.
“Nope. It was real. She’s very young, and a pain in the ass. She likes to steal things like lab coats.” He grimaced.
“Well, good thing I was fresh out of those that night.” She chuckled, and her hand flattened on the paper. “I’ll tell you what, Mr. Adam . . .”
He frowned. “I like to be called just Adam. We’re going to be business partners, so that makes us friends. And that Mr. Part sounded kind of mean and mocking.”
She shook her head, and her eyes were laughing a ton. “No one’s agreed to anything yet. I don’t know if I’ll sign this. I need to think about it—I need to know more about you.”
“Ask me anything.” He stepped closer and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Okay, smart guy . . . When you write your music, what do you do afterward to celebrate?”
“Easy—I have a donut. Next question.” His chest puffed up, and so did his mind. It was all floaty-feeling.
“After your donut, what do you do to secure your music? Where do you put it so no one will steal it?”
“I write it down, hide it in my room in a very secure place.”
“Like where? Under your mattress?” She snorted and then barked an unladylike laugh.
“Who told you? Was it my brother? That moron. It’s a secret!” He dropped his arms.
“No, he didn’t tell me. I was being a smart ass.”
“Oh.” His face dropped. He was the moron right now. He should’ve known.
Why did her sense of humor escape him?
“What about this question—what are you going to do if your music takes off like crazy. It’s already going viral on YouTube. What if you sell tons and agents come into the picture—what then? What happens to me? Do I get a say in all of this?”
“We renegotiate if it gets to that point. We draw up new paperwork with my lawyer, and we can involve yours as well, of course. But mostly, I’m thinking it would mean I would give you back full ownership of your club, I’d open a new club for me, and we’d probably part ways. I’d pay you some sort of severance package. Something like that. I’ve actually already got a lawyer drafting up some preliminary paperwork on this just in case.”
She smiled like she was impressed. “Wow. You’ve thought some of this through.”
“I have.” He nodded. “Even if that happens and somehow you find a way to get more money or control over it, in the end, I still win. Because my family is kept whole—and that’s all I really want. My dad can no longer interfere, and I don’t have to wish he would die from cancer sooner.”
She held up a hand. “Here’s my own stipulation, Adam . . . I don’t want to be involved with any of your family. Not one of them. I’m assuming that was your dad that set up that last gig you did for me, but he’s a douche. He tries too hard. I really don’t like him much at all.”
“I know the feeling.” He sighed, his shoulders rounding forward. “Got a soda?”
“Yeah, I do, but this time, I’m not getting it for you.” She laughed for a second, then sighed at the end, running her hands through her long dark hair.
“Okay. No family involvement—I get my own soda. You sign the contract tomorrow, and the world will be a musically nice place to be.” He smiled so wide, he wondered if his cheeks were almost pointy.
“You’re one strange puppy, but I do like you. You’re unique—like your music.” She smiled, waved him off and then went back to staring at the paperwork.
“Bye, Suzie. I like you, too. My music found you, and now it’s ready to do more than say hi to you. It’s ready to sit in your lap.” He let himself out of the office, and he felt so much better he wondered why he hadn’t thought of this sooner.
Chapter 11
Meg tapped on the piano keys, and she was smiling so big Adam’s heart danced.
“Why are you wearing a dress?” She pointed at his robe.
“I’m graduating today.” He beamed at her.
“That’s ‘cause you’re smart.” She tinkered with the keys. Her eyes went up when she created a really nice chord. “And you’re gonna teach me music.” Her little shoulders went up around her ears, and she itched her left lobe that way.
Adam grinned. “You want to learn piano?”
“This is fun!” She clanked on the piano keys more and her tongue poked out, her eyes scrunched in concentration.
Was she even listening anymore, or was she that enveloped already?
“Oh boy,” he whispered to himself.
Was this a good idea?
He turned with his heart hammering in his head, searching with his eyes for Mari. She’d know the answer. She’d know what was best.
He blew out with a heavy sound when she was nowhere around.
“Sweetie, we need to go,” his wife shouted from the
other room.
“Yeah, okay.” He stroked Meg’s hair. “We’re ready,” he called back.
Without a word, he scooped up Meg and put her on his back.
She squealed and gripped his shoulders tight.
He bounced her around the room and reminded her of the rules for the graduation.
“What do you do when you see me down on the floor with all the other people dressed like me?” he quizzed.
“I wave and smile until you see me.”
He bounced her a little more. “And what do you do when it’s boring when they talk and talk—blah, blah, blah.”
“I ignore them. I’ll sit, though, ‘cause Mommy is going to have to be with the baby.”
He nodded. “Too smart. I think you’re the one graduating today.”
She laughed. “Dat’s silly, Daddy. I didn’t take classes.” She wiggled on his back.
“We’re getting in the car,” he called out to Mari once more.
He swung Meg off his back and grabbed the bag he had hung off the door earlier.
“New crayons and coloring book for you,” he told his little girl.
“For me?” Her eyes got wide. She looked just like him in that moment. All big round eyes, mouth popped open in surprise and elation. “I want that!”
“I know you do, and you have it now.”
“Strawberry Shortcake—is that what you got me?” She placed her hands on her cheeks.
“You’ll just have to see. Behave like you always do, okay? It’s going to be a lot of boring through a lot of this,” he warned her.
“I’m already bored. I wanna color.” She grinned.
“You’re not bored. You’re with me, and that’s always fun.” He rubbed her head, grinning right back at her.
He held out his hand for a five, and instead she shook it. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Gradee-ating man.”
He burst out laughing, shook her hand back and bowed. “Nice to meet you, too, Little Miss talented-piano-girl who colors like she’s going to brighten the world.”
“I am . . . I do.” She batted her lashes.
Oh, she was killing him with cuteness.
“Yes, you do.” He grabbed his cap. She’d colored a picture on top of it after Mari put some white contact paper on it cut out in the shape of a diamond. “You did for me. You’ll be able to find me easy ‘cause I’ll have the best hat.” He bowed once more and finally took her out to the car in the garage.
He opened up the garage door, put her in her car seat, and started the engine, waiting for Mari.
When she didn’t come out after a few minutes, he sent her a quick text.
Everything ok? Do you need help?
No reply came after two minutes and twenty-four seconds.
One minute and seventeen seconds later, she dragged herself out the door, looking frazzled and very frustrated.
She managed to put the baby in his car seat and then she plopped into the front passenger seat.
“Did something happen?” he asked.
“Blow-out diaper—all over my shirt. I had to shower real quick and change. Button went back to sleep while I was cleaning myself up, too, so I had to wake him up and wash him in the sink. It was a mess. It’s all over his baby blanket. I’ll need to wash that when I get home.” She set her palm on her belly. “And I feel nauseated as hell.”
Oh shit. Pregnant.
Not good.
He should have taken over baby duty so she could’ve rested. It would have been better for her to deal with Meg. She was usually easy to handle, though a lot of energy.
Kind of like him.
He stroked her shoulder. “I’m sorry that happened. That’s not fun being covered in mustard like that.”
She chuckled. “Popcorn-smelling mustard poop is quite an experience—one I don’t care to repeat. He keeps having these massive BMs. He eats all the time, though, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised when he has a big load.”
He was about to say something dirty about the big load he wanted to give her, but he kept his mouth closed and drove off instead. She wasn’t in the mood, and it was pretty clear it would only get him a scowl—something she rarely did.
By the time they got to the parking lot, everyone seemed restless, including Meg, but then she was waiting for her gift that was meant to keep her occupied.
“Oh no!” Mari cried out.
“What’s wrong?” He turned off the car and faced her, his brows scrunching together, almost holding hands.
“I forgot the damn camera!” She burst into tears, holding her face with her palms.
He stroked her back. “Mari, it’s okay. I don’t even care if there are any pictures. After what we’ve been dealing with lately . . .”
“Exactly!” She tossed her hands up and then they landed on her lap. Her tortured eyes turned on him. “We need something positive to remind us of all you’ve worked for. You deserve this day to be special and to be remembered.”
He cupped her cheek. “Sweetheart, I don’t need a photo to remember it. Your phone takes great pictures.”
She shook her head, her eyes a little red.
He smiled at her to calm her down. “Besides, you know my dad and Amelia will bring some massive camera that can see every freckle on my face and they’ll take tons.”
“Promise?” She blew out.
“Promise.” He grabbed the travel-sized tissue box and handed it to her. “Bring it with you.”
“’Kay.” She took a deep breath and her shoulders did, too.
She was obviously feeling stressed.
He rubbed her shoulder closest to him. “When we get home—nice back rub and bath for you.”
She tried to smile, but it looked like she was in pain. “That should be my job with you. This is your day.”
“It’s both our day. If it hadn’t been for you, there’s no way I could’ve accomplished all of this, and you take care of all of us so I can get an education and make more money in the future. So, you get to celebrate, too. And I’m already happy. I don’t need more.” He squeezed her shoulder again, then glanced over his. “Right, Button? Isn’t Daddy happy? Has he ever been so giddy?”
Meg smiled. “You smile like a lion today.”
“I do, don’t I?” He pretended to growl.
She giggled.
He got out of the car, helped her out, even got Button out of his car seat as Mari sat and collected herself.
“Remember, it’s boring here. Too many adults talking too much. Color a lot. I wanna see your work when I get done.” He bopped Meg’s nose.
She nodded and beamed at him. “Yeah, okay, Daddy. I’ll do that.”
“I know you will. You’re awesome like that.” He took her hand as he held Button on his other hip.
Mari got out of the car and looked even worse.
Was she feeling okay?
“I’ll take the kids,” she said, putting on a baby carrier.
“Okay. I’ve gotta go to my meeting place, but I’ll see you soon. Text me sometimes so I don’t die of boredom or wish for the numbers to appear.” He chuckled.
“Not funny,” she said under her breath, taking the baby and putting him in the carrier.
“It is when you’re me.” He gave a wide toothy grin—maybe kind of lion-like. He really wasn’t sure since he didn’t have a mirror around. “And I say take a picture of me now when I’m happy. Not after when I’m droopy because they talk too long about stupid stuff nobody wants to hear about.”
Mari pepped up a little, snapped a shot with her phone, but then she went right back to mopey.
Why was she so sad? Her graduation already happened last semester, and she decided not to go because she was about to give birth any day at that point.
Was she jealous?
He leaned in, gave her a kiss and whispered in her ear. “I’m proud of you, my special girl. You worked way harder than I did, and I wish you could take this award for me.” He patted her bottom and pulled away. “Just remember it’s
yours, too. It’s for us.”
She smiled with watery eyes. “I’ll try to remember all that—might be hard. That’s quite a lot to lay on a girl.”
She gave him another kiss and sent him on his way.
He put a hand over his phone in his pocket, hoping she would be okay.
Bzzz . . .
He checked his phone as he walked. It was a smoochy text kiss from her.
Much better.
He sent back three hearts and two kisses. She was his wife.
Today he was a graduating man and about to start a Master’s program.
As he thought about how they were going to handle him continuing school if she was indeed pregnant once more, his phone buzzed again.
This time it was Zach. Congrats, loser. Now I can say you’re smart without having to cringe. Haha! See you after. There’ll be food, right? Lots of it? :D
Adam chuckled and answered with a simple: Always was smarter. That was never a question. :P
He found the sea of graduates in their hideous caps and gowns and joined the crowd being ushered into the appropriate area.
It was never a good idea to wear box-shaped hats on one’s head—too stabby and dangerous on the corners to people’s eyes if the wearer wasn’t careful. They were a sea of walking eye-death traps today.
He sighed and made sure to stand up straight and tall so he wouldn’t damage anyone’s corneas.
Over the next five minutes he got several texts from his dad, Thomas and even Dr. Harkham, but not one from his mother.
His heart restricted on him a little because it felt tethered somehow to her. Yes, he knew now she was a big old loony nut, but still . . . It would be nice if she acknowledged all his hard work.
Samara . . .
Jesus—the vision of her smiling at him, screaming out his name in pride and clapping louder than anyone else in the audience as he took the stage, was in his brain now.
Why did that have to be?
She was gone, and he was glad.
But what if she could’ve been here? Wouldn’t it have meant something to her?
Kind of like Thomas? He was clearly beyond proud of Adam.
Harkham's Corner (Harkham's Series Book 3) Page 16
