Page 34 of Broken Instrument

I turn away from her and stare, once again, at the wall in front of me littered with an assortment of alcohol in fancy bottles. Anything to distract me from the girl beside me. “So, what’d you think? Other than the fans ogling me.”

“I think you’re good, Fen. Like, really good.” The sincerity in her voice calls to me like a siren, and I turn to her again. The softness of her smile. The openness in her gaze. The way her red, pouty lips form my name.

Beautiful.

“She’s right. You did good up there,” a low voice interrupts. I turn to find Hawthorne on my opposite side.

With a tight smile, I reply, “Oh. Hey. Thanks.”

“How’d it feel?”

Like coming home with a side of ticking time bomb, I think to myself but reply, “Good.”

“Good. The first song. Was it your own work?”

I nod.

“And you haven’t signed with anyone?” he prods.

“What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying, Fender. I want to get you in the studio. Under your own name if you’re still adamant about keeping your distance from Broken Vows for now. What do you think?”

I scan his face, searching for the part where he says he’s lying, and I’ll never make it in this business. But I don’t find anything except hope and confidence.

“I think you’re insane for even offering,” I counter when the silence is too charged.

“Why?”

“Because…” my voice trails off. I don’t know what he expects me to say. I don’t want to be offered a music deal because he feels guilty. I don’t want Daddy Dearest to pull any more strings like he did the first time. I don’t want to screw up and succumb to my addiction again.

I don’t want a lot of things, and I can use each and every one of them as an excuse as to why Hawthorne’s offer is insane. Why I’d be a fool to think he was serious, or this won’t wind up exploding in my face if I take it.

“You have the spark, Fender,” he continues. “Maybe it’s genetic, and you can blame your father for your talent, but you and Sonny have it out the ass, whether you’re playing together or apart. I’d be a fool if I didn’t push you to become the best musician you can be.”

He’s saying everything I want to hear. But when something sounds too good to be true, it usually is. And hope’s a dangerous thing. Especially for a guy like me.

Scrubbing my hand over my face, I remind him, “I’m a loose cannon. You said so yourself at this very bar not so long ago.”

“Yeah. But I think we both know you aren’t the same man I met the first night.”

“You sure?” I challenge.

His stone-cold gaze could make a grown man cower, but I keep my head held high and meet it with cool indifference.

“I’ll send you the papers tomorrow morning. If you want to get a second opinion, I can send them to your father, too, but I’ll let you decide on that front.”

“Who said I’m interested?” I argue.

“I know you like to pretend you’re a dime a dozen, Fen, but I recognize a diamond when I see it. It’s only a matter of time before every other label, manager, and producer starts knocking down your door. You have what it takes. And if you can keep your addiction under control, you’ll make it to the top.”

“What about Broken Vows?”

“What about them?”

“You signed them––”

“And I’ll continue to represent them to the best of my ability because I believe they also have what it takes in this industry. But so do you. It’s not an either-or scenario, Fen. You both have talent with and without each other. I get why you’d want to take a new path after everything you’ve been through. There’s no shame in it. But you shouldn’t discount your talent, pretending you rode on Broken Vows’ coattails or some shit. Yeah, they’re successful without you. They were successful with you too. But guess what, Fen? You’ve got what it takes to be successful without them, as well. It’s time you start believing it. And if you decide to take anything away from tonight, it’s exactly that. You’ve got what it takes.”

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