Chapter Seventeen Choices
Caleb
I paid the bills because it had to be done.
Utilities, rent, the overdue insurance. A repair invoice that made my jaw tighten, even though I had expected it.
I clicked submit in the online banking portal, watched each confirmation flash on the screen, and told myself that this was good, I was still doing okay, and I would turn it around somehow.
When I reached the end of the list, one invoice remained.
It was the supplier invoice, which didn’t threaten to turn off the lights, but did threaten to make the shop quietly useless over time if I couldn’t get it paid.
I needed the small pieces that repaired customer’s instruments as part of my service.
I opened my checking account again and ran through the numbers a second time. The total did not magically change because I stared at it harder.
I could pay it, if I dipped into what I kept tucked away in savings for emergencies. The problem was that everything had started to feel like an emergency. If I used that small amount of money now, I wouldn’t have it when something worse happened.
So I did what I hated doing. I wrote a note to call the supplier, slid the invoice into a folder marked NEXT MONTH, and closed the laptop.
My phone buzzed with a notification. I thought I had switched those off. I looked at the screen to find a cheerful caption full of holiday emojis and a comment thread that looked like a swarm.
I should have ignored it but I saw Kitty’s face in frame, her posture uncomfortably tight which told me she hadn’t chosen to be in the video. I watched her correct the interviewer, calm and clear, refusing to be pulled into speculation about me or our relationship.
She did not soften her boundaries to make the strangers watching comfortable. She protected my privacy in public.
My chest tightened with a mix of gratitude and something else I wasn’t ready to name just yet. Fake dating was supposed to make some of the fans back up a bit, to give me room and instead people were hounding Kitty, asking for her attention and time.
I had done this to her and she didn’t look happy.
I set my phone down and rubbed my hand over my face. I should call her and apologize. To release her from fake dating me if that was what she wanted.
Yet I realized I didn’t want to fake date her. I wanted to date her for real. I liked Kitty, her generosity with Abby, the way she smiled, how she understood me and wasn’t about to fangeek over me.
The bell over the door chimed. I glanced up, hoping for a customer.
My former agent Dave walked in like he owned the place. He carried a cardboard box under one arm and a tablet in the other hand.
“Morning,” he said, as if we had chatted yesterday and not months ago. “You look busy.”
“The shop is open,” I dryly replied, even though there wasn’t a customer in sight.
He laughed lightly. “That’s what I like about you. Always grinding.”
Dave set the box on the counter and opened it with a flourish that suggested this was a gift. “I give you an opportunity.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted his opportunities.
Dave took out item after item, each worse than the last. A bobblehead with a head that didn’t bobble.
It sat rigidly on the body like someone had glued it down and hoped no one would notice.
A stack of t-shirts. I picked one up with two fingers and immediately saw the print cracking at the edges.
There was a white cheap looking mug with a logo I recognized from my old tour days. Under it, my name was spelled wrong.
Dave watched my face the way a person watched a judge at a contest. “They’re mockups, but you get it.
We could have Caleb Green branded merchandise to sell these online.
It creates passive income. All you need to do is be on a few video ads.
You could move a few thousand units without leaving this town. ”
I set the mug down carefully. “My name is spelled wrong.”
“That’s an easy fix,” he said, waving it off. “The point is the concept.”
“The concept is cheap looking,” I replied.
Dave blinked, then smiled again, determined. “We are not selling luxury. We are selling connections to you. You drank out of the mug and now fans get to drink out of it.”
I did not like the way he said that, as if I could be portioned out and shipped.
“No,” I said.
He leaned forward, lowering his voice as if I had just said something naive. “Caleb, the interview clip is already circulating about your girlfriend. People are curious again. You have a moment to take advantage of this. We could even get a picture with the two of you together on hoodies .”
Dave tapped his tablet and turned it toward me. A playlist of different song titles appeared on the screen.
“You don’t have to do a full tour,” he said, his tone shifting to patient persuasion. “Just a few holiday sets. A handful of appearances. You can be home by New Year’s.”
“I’m not touring,” I said yet again.
Dave nodded, like he had expected resistance. “It’s just a few shows. Play the old hits, or do you have any new songs?”
I kept my expression neutral. “Are you listening to what I said?”
He smiled wider, sensing possibility. “If you have new songs, even better. We market it as a return on your terms. The quiet music genius comes back for the holidays or a small town romance angle if you want it. That story could sell. It was smart to get her to not talk about the relationship yet. People love a mystery and it might land you an exclusive interview with someone big.”
I felt heat crawl up the back of my neck.
“Don’t do this Dave. I’m not coming back,” I said.
Dave lifted one hand. “I’m just saying what people are already saying.”
“I’m not a product,” I said, keeping my voice low and controlled. “And neither is she.”
Dave’s smile faltered for the first time. “Caleb, nobody is saying that.”
I looked at the mug again. My misspelled name stared back at me like proof. “I want you to take your box of stuff and leave.”
He straightened slowly, his charm shifting into something tighter. “You’re under pressure. I get it. But this is the way forward.”
“I already told you,” I replied. “I’m not doing it.”
The bell over the door chimed again, bright and cheerful, but the person who entered was not.
It was Kitty’s great aunt Cathy.
She wore a wool coat that probably cost more than my monthly utilities. Her hair was perfectly set, her lipstick sharp enough to cut glass, and her expression suggested she had been disappointed in someone for hours and was finally ready to address it directly.
Dave straightened, smoothing his jacket like he had been waiting his whole life to impress a wealthy older woman.
“Mrs. DeBurg,” I greeted. I had the feeling she wasn’t here to purchase anything but to make life a little more difficult instead.
“Caleb,” she replied, her gaze sweeping the counter in a single pass. The box of pathetic merchandise still prominently displayed. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “So this is where you’ve tucked yourself away.”
“I run a music shop,” I said.
“I am aware.” Her expression could have curdled milk.
Dave cleared his throat, stepping forward with a smile that looked professionally practiced. He probably sensed some form of an opportunity. “Hi. Dave. I work with Caleb.”
“Formally worked with me,” I muttered.
“I know who you are,” Cathy said, without looking at him.
Dave blinked. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
Cathy turned her full attention back to me. “I saw the little livestream. I assume you did as well.”
“I did,” I replied.
“Then you know,” she continued, “that attention is returning. People are noticing. It would be foolish not to capitalize on that momentum.”
Dave jumped in quickly, as if sensing an opening. “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying. The interest is back. It’s a moment, and moments pass.”
Cathy finally looked at him, her eyes cold. “Do not interrupt me.”
Dave’s mouth closed.
Cathy took a cleaning wipe out of her purse, wiped the countertop, then placed her heavy purse in the space. “I am not here to argue about your career. I am here because I know your shop is in trouble.”
My stomach tightened. “You don’t know that.”
Cathy’s smile was small and confident. “I know everything. That’s how I’ve made my money.”
Heat rose in my chest. “What do you want?”
Cathy’s eyes brightened with the satisfaction of a person moving chess pieces. “I want you to date my granddaughter Anne.”
Dave inhaled sharply.
“That’s not happening,” I firmly replied.
Cathy held up a hand. “You are reacting emotionally.”
“I’m reacting logically,” I replied. “I don’t know your granddaughter and I am dating your great niece Kitty.”
Cathy’s brows rose. “You can dump Kitty.”
“No.”
“Think rationally. I am facilitating an arrangement that benefits everyone. Anne is an excellent young woman. She deserves someone stable who will be good to her. You need financial stability, and would be a good addition to the family dynasty.” Cathy ticked her reasons off of her manicured fingers.
Dave stepped forward again, unable to help himself. “If we are talking stability, touring is the quickest route. We could book a short holiday run. He can choose the songs. Two from the catalog, maybe one new if he has anything written. We can keep it tasteful.”
Cathy glanced at him, unimpressed. “No one asked you.”
Dave spread his hands, smiling. “I’m just offering options.”
I felt my jaw set. “Anne doesn’t want this. I don’t want this.”
Cathy waved a hand, dismissing the idea that Anne might have preferences. “Anne wants what is sensible. She simply needs guidance.”
Cathy calling that guidance made my stomach turn. “You are talking about controlling your granddaughter and me.”
Cathy leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice as if we were sharing a private kindness. “I will pay you. Consider it compensation for your time and for taking her seriously.”
“No,” I said again, more firmly.
Cathy’s expression tightened. “You’re being stubborn.”
Dave nodded eagerly. “He does that.”
I shot him a look that should have scorched his eyebrows off. He pretended to study the peeling t-shirt print.
Cathy continued, relentless. “And if, as I suspect, you suit, then I am very generous when it comes to weddings. Anne would receive a substantial bridal gift. Something that would solve your little cash flow problem.”
My hands curled lightly against the edge of the counter. I kept my voice level because raising it would make this feel like a negotiation. “I am not dating Anne for money, and I’m not taking a wedding bonus from you to fix my life.”
Cathy’s eyes sharpened. “Then you will lose your shop and your pride will keep you warm.”
Before I could respond, the bell chimed again.
This time it was my landlord, Gerald, stepping inside with a man in a navy coat who looked around the shop with polite interest. The kind of interest that made my stomach drop.
“Caleb,” Gerald said, all friendly cheer, as if he had not just walked in on a private conversation about buying my love life. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“You are,” I said.
Gerald laughed like I had made a joke. “This will only take a minute. This is Mr. Hargreaves. He owns a shop on Main.”
Mr. Hargreaves offered a hand. “Nice place. It has good lighting.”
I did not take his hand. I looked at Gerald. “What is this?”
Gerald spread his hands. “Just exploring options. Your lease is up for renewal soon.”
“I have months left,” I said.
“Sure,” Gerald agreed easily. “But renewals start early. You know how it is. Mr. Hargreaves is interested in expanding. He’s willing to pay a higher rate for the space. I would be remiss not to consider it.”
I felt a cold sense of foreboding. “You can’t show the space while I’m operating.”
Gerald’s smile shifted into something less friendly. “I can do whatever I need to do as the owner. I’m giving you notice now that renewal isn’t guaranteed.”
Dave let out a quiet whistle, like this was fascinating. Cathy looked satisfied, as if the universe had aligned with her point.
Mr. Hargreaves wandered toward the back, peering at the lesson area. “I could see this as a tasting corner.”
I stepped out from behind the counter before I realized I had moved. “Stop.”
He paused, blinking at me.
“This is my business,” I said to Gerald, keeping my voice controlled. “You don’t bring strangers in here and talk about replacing me like I’m a chair you’re tired of looking at.”
Gerald’s expression hardened. “Then maybe you should think about making more money so that you pay the rent on time. It’s going up soon with inflation factors.”
Dave lifted his tablet. “Touring.”
Cathy tilted her chin. “Anne.”
The shop felt suddenly full of people who wanted things from me.
“I am not discussing this right now,” I said, my voice steady. “You are out of line. If you have something to discuss about the lease, you schedule it. You do not parade tenants through my shop like I’m already gone.”
Gerald’s jaw tightened. “Watch your tone.”
I met his gaze without blinking. “Watch yours.”
The room went quiet. Even Dave stopped fidgeting.
I gestured toward the door. “All of you. Leave.”
Cathy stared at me as if I had slapped her.
“Now,” I added.
Dave hesitated, then gathered his tablet and his box of failed merchandise. Gerald muttered something under his breath and motioned for Mr. Hargreaves to follow him. Cathy held my gaze the longest, as if waiting for me to cave, then turned sharply and walked out without another word.
I flipped the sign to CLOSED and locked the door. The silence felt loud as I leaned against it. My chest ached in a way that had nothing to do with money.
I had drawn the line.
Now I had to live with what it cost.