“Well, you’re in summer school this year, Jake. And the counselor wants you to see him once a week.” Dad sighed and shifted in his seat. “Stay out of trouble. For once in your life, just stay out of trouble. You’ve got three more years of school then you can do whatever you want outside of my house.”
Jake dropped his feet onto the floor and stood. “Yeah, always my fault.”
He stormed out of the room and down the hall, slamming his door to punctuate his exit.
“He’s got your mother’s temper,” Dad said. “It’s gonna kill him one day.”
I wanted to disagree, but I couldn’t. Dad was right. Jake was scary when he was angry. I wondered if he even realized how scary he was.
CHAPTER FOUR
My throat closed before I stepped inside the theater. What if this was all a big mistake? It wasn’t like I hadn’t been there before, but this time it was different. This time, I was entering the side door as part of the show. It wasn’t like entering the small auditorium at Branson North. There was no backstage door for the crew. I marveled at the bustle of being backstage and took my time walking through the organized chaos.
The marquee announced Hank Walker’s first show as this upcoming weekend. That meant we had a week to get it right before the seats filled and the people judged.
One week.
It didn’t seem like enough time.
Pamela had emailed the new rehearsal schedule, the set list, and the music. I’d listened to the songs non-stop since I’d gotten it. I knew them, and I knew my role. Crystal/Ruth was the soprano and I was the alto. It was fine. My range was much higher, but maybe hers wasn’t very low. So low I go. I could harmonize with a sheep if I had to.
And I had to do this show.
The security guard directed me to the dressing room instead of the stage. The hallway was dark but bustling with unseen activity. I was ten minutes early as it was. As I got closer to the stage, I heard voices.
“You need to get your head out of your ass,” a man with a gravelly voice said. Without a doubt, that was Mr. Walker.
“Oh? And the way to do that is in bumfuck Missouri?” a younger voice snapped. Something slammed against the floor. “Jesus, Dad, did you really think this through? We’re in hillbilly hell out here. They don’t even have an In and Out Burger.”
“Yeah, I thought this through, and yeah, we’re in Missouri. But we’re here because you had to get out of L.A. You know that, Dylan.” Hank’s voice wavered. “I came out of retirement just to get you out. Get you away from those people. I’d be just as happy sitting at home by the pool with my coffee than be here, but you gave me no choice.”
“I gave you no choice?” A sharp laugh smacked the air. “That’s bullshit, Dad. I was fine.”
“Fine?” Hank’s calm tone disappeared. “Getting high on Sunset is fine? Getting arrested for possession is fine? Getting arrested for assaulting a cop is fine? You’re fucking throwing away your life, son.”
“Projecting your own bad image on me? I got arrested once two years ago. How many times did you get busted on Sunset? How many possessions do you have on your record? Or public intoxication or soliciting a prostitute,” Dylan snapped. “Don’t push your shit on me.”
“You need to grow up, boy. I can’t bail you out all the time,” Hank growled.
“Like you’ve ever bailed me out.”
Heavy footsteps sounded on the stage, moving closer to where I hid behind the curtain. I turned to run down the hall. The curtain tangled around my ankles, and I went down. There was barely enough time to brace myself before I hit the hard floor beneath me. My hands slapped against the wood, the echo devoured by the velvet curtain. But it was still loud enough for anyone walking off the stage.
“How much did you hear, eavesdropper?” Dylan asked. The venom in his voice pierced me.
I rolled onto my side and sat up. “Enough,” I admitted, brushing my hands over my jeans. “But it’s none of my business.”
He offered his hand and pulled me to my feet. “It’s not.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to ...” It wasn’t true so why lie. Once I heard them talking, I was frozen. “I just couldn’t make myself move forward.”
Dylan smirked and I got my first real look at Hank’s son. His eyes were an unnatural ocean green even in the dim lights of backstage. “That’s at least honest.”
I shrugged. “Dad always told me to be honest, because most people aren’t. It will get me farther than lying.”
“Not sure if that’s true.” He held out his hand again. “I’m Dylan, by the way.”
“I know,” I said as I slipped my fingers along his rough skin. The rest of his hand was soft, but his fingertips had the callouses of a guitar player.
“Ah, so my reputation does precede me?” He laughed, but there wasn’t any humor in it.
“Not really,” I said quickly. My face heated. “I mean, I overheard Mr. Walker call you Dylan. And he said you insisted on me being in the band. Other than that, I don’t know anything about your... indiscretions.”
He belly-laughed. “My indiscretions? That’s funny.”
“Well, it’s true. I didn’t Google you.” I wrung my hands together. “My dad probably knows. He’s a huge fan of Mr. Walker’s. He started a cover band in high school and he...” I shook my head. “Anyway, Dad’s more up to date on all things Hank Walker than I am.”
Something dark flashed across his eyes, but he hid it as fast as he let it out. “Nice to meet you, Cameron. Get ready for rehearsal. One thing you may
