12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Grady
I settled into the opening chords of “The Phantom of the Opera.” The tune often brought me out of a writing funk and sometimes delayed my desire to throw something in frustration. Not that there was much to throw. My keyboard, some books, and this very heavy mattress. Maybe I should try living like a grown-up. After all, I finally owned a house.
My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the caller ID. Agent Jack. Picking it up, I hit the green circle before I could talk myself out of this conversation. If it was another job, I wouldn’t turn it down. Money was my muse now, and Jack never failed to feed it, which was something I was starting to lose sight of.
“What do you have?” I asked by way of introduction.
“Mia Malone is looking for contributors for her next album.”
“Mia Malone.” Her name was at the forefront of everyone’s lips. “Her last album went platinum, right?”
“It did. And it’s still chugging right along. She might make multiplatinum.”
“She’s got a country-pop blend to most of her music.”
“You bet. It gets picked up by both genres, which is what makes it so lucrative. Think you can write it?”
I picked up the pen beside my notebook and tapped the page in a rhythm. That was what moved me now, the challenge. “Does she have a timeline? Or start writing and if she likes something, we’ll go from there?”
“You don’t have anything ready that might fit the bill?”
“No. You know me. I don’t start until you dangle the money. Seems to work well enough.”
There was a deep silence across the phone before Jack spoke. “You writing for yourself yet? I know a few labels who would love to put out another album for you.”
This was the part of the conversation I hated. Without fail, Jack circled back to my inability to write with myself in mind. Of course, my agent didn’t understand what was happening. All he knew was that I hadn’t written a single song meant for me since my first album’s release. When I thought about my writing process too long, it sent me into a creative panic. For whatever reason, the personal well had run dry. I needed direction—a genre, sometimes even a topic—and I could get up and running. But creating new material on my own without an incentive? Didn’t happen anymore.
“Someday.” I’d stopped being sure of that a few years ago. It was still my go-to line with Jack.
“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right? The plan is to get back in the game as a singer and a songwriter, yeah?”
I chuckled and settled deeper into my lawn chair. “Jack, are you getting paid? Do you make money off these songwriting deals?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Yeah, it is. The rest of it doesn’t fucking matter. You get paid, I get paid. We both get to keep doing what we love.”
“This is the part you love?”
“Yeah.” For the most part, that was true. I loved the creative spark, the flurry of mental activity, puzzling out a melody or chorus. I never admitted to anyone how I missed feeling a rush from something in my own life. My muse—the one who didn’t live in my bank account—had abandoned me. Quite often, I longed for her return.
“You’re amassing a long list of song credits.”
While I traveled, I’d taken every songwriting gig Jack had thrown my way. Once I figured out that money and some direction were the keys to my new process, I latched onto them like an addict. I wrote in jungles, on rickety buses, in tented camps while hyenas called out around, at the tops of mountains, and once while trying to recover from food poisoning.
“What are you getting at?”
“Your old label is wondering if you might want to consider taking on a music producer role for some of their up-and-coming talent. You’ve written a string of hit songs. It’s incredible, actually.”
I nodded even though Jack couldn’t see me. What to do with the train station had been on my mind, and becoming a producer would be an incredible next career step. Perhaps this was a goal for renovating that space. “Would they let me do it here?”
“There’s a studio in Little Falls?”
“If I made one, could I do it here?”
“It’s not too far from New York City. I’ll make some calls. You have the space?”
“Yeah. That’s not a problem.” The familiar itch to get up and walk rose under my skin. Every time doing something truly permanent in this town came up, I needed to move. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure I could force my roots deep enough to ground me here. There was a chance I’d never be truly happy here. Right now, I was as happy here as I’d been anywhere.
“Listen, I gotta go. Call me back when you know more. I’m definitely interested. But I’m also pretty happy writing songs.”
“Noted,” Jack said.
I hovered my finger over the red button to disconnect.
“Hey, Grady.” Jack’s voice echoed in the almost-empty room. “Are you actually running for mayor?”
I put the phone back to my ear and chuckled. “Yes and no.” When Jack sighed, I continued, “At first it was a ‘no,’ but I think it might be a ‘yes.’ I could do the job.”
“But do you want the job?”
With a frown, I threw my pen at the wall. “I guess we’ll see. I gotta go.” The itch to move, to escape was back. I’d walk the dogs on the edge of the town as though I was daring myself to leave, to duck out into the darkness, discover another place.
Grabbing the dogs’ leashes, I hooked them up and shut my front door. This time, I locked it. Before I’d gotten my keyboard delivered, I hadn’t been worried about anything being stolen. But that thing was worth good money.
It was a warm night for late August, and I relished the fading sun against my skin. I turned my face to catch the warmth as I passed another abandoned building. I wished there was an easy solution to the town’s empty storefronts. If there had been an easy way to fix it, Maggie would have done it. Admitting that was uncomfortable, but it was true. Ahead, Jim and a little boy were exiting one of the plaza spaces.
Jim waved, and his free hand fell to the top of the boy’s head, ruffling his hair. The movement made my chest ache in remembrance of my dad. The things that caused the ache to rush to the front were surprising. The smallest memory could cause the biggest chasm to open. Something about Jim Sullivan always managed to do it.
“Grady,” Jim said. As I approached, I tightened my hold on Zeus and Hite so they didn’t scare the kid. “This is Emily’s little guy, Amir. We were at the indoor playground.” Jim gestured behind them.
I crouched and extended my free hand to Amir while my dogs sniffed Jim and the boy. “Nice to meet you.” Amir took my hand and grinned.
“My Aunt Maggie says you’re the devil.”
A laugh burst out of me, and I glanced up at Jim who was shaking his head.
Jim grimaced but didn’t deny the child’s claim.
“I heard her and Mom talking.”
“It’s okay,” I said, rising. “Your Aunt Maggie and I are competing to be mayor.”
“Why would you want to be mayor?” Amir cocked his head. “Is that a good job?”
At a loss, I spared Jim a glance. The question was simple, but I didn’t know how to answer it. To spite Maggie didn’t seem like the best response to give either of them.
“I saw that social media thing—you know—the money for the flooding victims.” Jim let me off one hook and thrust me onto another.
“Right, yeah, that was Maggie.”
“Still, I thought it was good of you to let her use your photo. Seemed like a lot of your friends stepped up.”
With my free hand, I massaged my cheek. “Your daughter is resourceful.”
“She does well when she’s challenged, always has.” Jim wrapped his arm around Amir’s slight shoulders and brought him in a little closer. “I’m assuming you’ll be part of this concert thing she and Lila are organizing for October?”
“Concert?” I frowned.
“Lila is recruiting. She’s already got Tyler at the gym working out for some reason. I haven’t quite figured out why he needs to work out. I thought Lila told me it was a magic show?”
A concert and a magic show? Jim had to have missed some vital piece of information. Unless they were organizing a variety show? I was drawing a blank about where something like that would even take place. “What’s this all about?”
“Oh.” Jim’s expression turned uneasy. “I assumed you’d know about it. I don’t know much about what’s happening. Trent’s involved, and I guess I assumed...”
“Right.” I rocked back on my heels and pretended I’d suddenly remembered. Obviously, he didn’t know Trent and I weren’t as tight as we once were. “Yeah. With everything else, I haven’t had a chance to get much information on the event yet.”
“You were all over the place the day of the flood. A lot of people were really grateful. It’s nice that Trent’s looking for a way to give back to the community.”
I grinned, trying to maintain a fa?ade. Inside, pieces stirred in anger while others cringed at how far Trent and I had drifted. I hated that Trent chose Maggie. When I’d been out of the country, I’d known Trent went to Maggie for help. Since I’d never been close enough to do much, it hadn’t stirred these feelings of resentment. But I was back, and Trent was still choosing her. Made me feel like shit. Guilt ate at me for a new reason. Could I fix it? Did I deserve to have Trent back?
“Are you planning to stick around Little Falls whether or not you win the election?”
I frowned and dug my hand into my dogs’ fur, lost in thought. I’d gone out for the walk because the itch to leave had taken hold. In all these years, I’d never figured out what I was running from or to, I was just running. Auburn hair and brown eyes danced across my consciousness. I shoved the image down. “Maybe. Yeah.”
“I’m sure the town would appreciate having you back.”
The dogs whined, and I tightened my hand on their leashes. I crouched to Amir’s level. “You tell your Aunt Maggie the devil says hello.”
Amir grinned. “Okay. She’ll like that.”
I chuckled as I rose and offered Jim my hand. “It was nice running into you.”
“And you.”
Something new that had cropped up was the way that Jim spoke to me now, like he couldn’t decide how to treat me. I hadn’t noticed the shift at first. Jim had never been cool before I left Little Falls, but our last few exchanges had a layer of frost, a new guardedness. Had Maggie told her dad what my album was about? What had happened between us all? She’d have spun the truth to make herself look better, maybe to make me appear petty. None of us had been good.
I stared at the cloudless sky. What were Maggie, Lila, and Trent planning?
As we parted ways, I found myself turning in the direction of Maggie’s street. I rubbed my bicep where the brothers first tattoo blazed across my skin. I’d let the disconnect go long enough. It was time I started acting like that was true. Instead of existing on the fringes of people’s lives, I needed to start setting things right.