Jane interrupted my stress-induced rant. “Vinny will contract you and pay you seventy-five thousand dollars for even attempting. That’s two months of being in the same room with Reid for two years of your salary. TWO YEARS. Then, if Reid and you collaborate well, and he writes a killer single or album, they’ll pay you one hundred… thousand… dollars.”
She was right.
I didn’t need the rest of the details.
Reid King, the King of Music? That didn’t scare me one freaking bit.
They could ask me to allow Reid King to puke on me just like he did to his fans a few weeks ago. And for that much money? I’d gladly allow it.
That money would change everything for my family.
No more stress for my parents.
No more tears from Cara while she tried so hard to be strong.
No more talk of them moving in with Jack’s parents because they couldn’t afford their mortgage and the medical bills.
No more talk of my parents selling our childhood home to save Cara’s.
I reached out for my water, the cool liquid traveling down my throat. Ha. I could afford to buy this entire bar after summer—given that I could help Reid, of course.
I looked over at Jane with her wide eyes and pink lips. “Sold.”
**
“Are you sure that Uncle Vinny isn’t just giving me this opportunity because he knows about my family’s financial issues?” I asked Jane as we sat out in front of Vinny’s New York home—*cough* castle *cough*.
Green eyes stared at me from the driver’s side of the car. “I didn’t even tell him until after he said how much he’d pay the person. I mumbled something like, ‘Oh my God, this would solve all her family’s problems,’ and then he made me spill. But truly, he didn’t know until afterward.”
I swallowed and looked out the window. Bright light was casting down through the fluffy, pillow-like clouds, creating almost a kaleidoscope of golden yellow hues on the ground. I’d always loved coming to Uncle Vinny’s. It was a nice break from the hectic streets of the city. I was raised in the outskirts of New York but now resided in the city in one of those apartments that everyone thought were amazing because they had that HGTV exposed brick and super tall windows that overlooked the busy streets of New York. But I can tell you right now that my apartment was everything short of amazing. The coolest thing about my tiny, closet-like home was the old, recycled bicycle planter I’d secured to the wall. I told myself it was a statement piece, but really it was there to draw your eyes onto it instead of the crappy, scratched floors and old windows that allowed the freezing cold winter air to filter through every January.
“Are you still mad at me?”
I turned, taking my eyes off the cottony clouds, and stared at Jane. Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth, and I could tell, even through her I’m-a-boss-lady, hard-as-stone exterior, that she truly felt bad about telling Uncle Vinny about my hidden talent (her words, not mine). How could I be mad at her, though? She had enough faith in me that she took a leap and got me this amazing opportunity.
I was scared to death, honestly. Working with someone like Reid King? Even working with someone half as famous as Reid King—no, one-fourth was more like it—was stressful and intimidating. It was why I worked with children. They didn’t scare me in the slightest. But someone like Reid King, who knew his shit? It was almost like a nightmare, yet it was exciting, too. It was exhilarating. Getting paid all that money to write songs? To do what I loved to do?
Sure, I wasn’t writing the songs for him, but I’d be with Reid King, talking to him about music! And once again, for all that money? That was really the most important thing of all. It wasn’t just an amazing opportunity; it was something that I desperately needed. Something my family needed.
I wasn’t going to let my fears get in the way of it. I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of it.
My dream of becoming a songwriter went on the back burner a long time ago. That was the funny thing about dreams. What was once a dream ten years ago was now replaced with a new dream. People evolve, as do their hopes and ambitions. My new dream was to help my family. To get the happy, laughing, stress-free family back that I so desperately missed.
I grabbed onto my coffee that Jane snagged for me, no doubt intended as an “I’m sorry” gift, and smiled. “I don’t think I’m even justified in being upset with you, Jane.”
She instantly relaxed into her leather seat. “It was the coffee that did it, huh? I knew you couldn’t be mad if I brought you caffeine.”
I laid my head on the headrest and laughed. “Oh yes, it definitely wasn’t the fact that you had enough faith in my writing that you somehow scored me this terrifying yet exciting job opportunity which might pull my family out of their financial burden… it was the coffee that sealed the deal. A woman after my own heart.”
Jane laughed again and then turned her car off. Before exiting, she looked over at me one last time. “Did you tell them?”
I bit the inside of my cheek and gazed at the gates surrounding Uncle Vinny’s. “No, and I won’t.” I turned, taking my eyes off the pretty blue bird perched on top of the steel pillar. “For one, it’d open up an entirely new can of worms over the fact that I was still writing songs in my spare time, which would then lead to an hour-long conversation about how I can still do such a thing for a living, even though we all know that’s not true. And for two, they’re not going to like this. Not at all.”
I thought about telling my parents, or maybe even just telling Cara—she’d probably flip out if she knew I was going on a tour bus with the King of Music. But the second I said anything about the money, or about how I was giving it to them to pay for past medical bills and the anti-rejection kidney medicine, they’d refuse. My plan was to do the job that needed to be done, get paid, and drop a shit ton of money on their heads like I was the richest person alive. I’d probably brush my shoulder off, too, afterwa
rd.
They wouldn’t be able to talk me out of it or reject it at that point. They’d feel too grateful.