Page 98 of Protecting Hailey

My mother stood at the door with her hands on her hips. “Are you sleeping in the middle of the afternoon, Hailey? What’s gotten into you? First a weekend away and now sleeping. I didn’t raise you to be lazy. Don’t you have something you should be doing?”

I pulled the blanket over my head to drown out her voice.

But she pulled it down, anyway, and placed a hand on my forehead. “You’re fine. No fever.”

“I’m just tired.”

“You came back from a weekend away. You should have gotten plenty of rest.”

“Christian didn’t let me get much sleep.”

“That’s disgusting, Hailey.”

“Well, if you don’t want to hear it, you’re welcome to leave and let me sleep.”

“You know we need to discuss finances. Come on,” she pulled the blanket off of me. “Get up.”

I shivered in my shorts and T-shirt. Despite her cold tactics, we did have this meeting booked, so I relented and got up.

Dragging my feet to the dining room table, I pulled out a chair and fell into the seat. I held my head with both hands while my mother reviewed my expenses.

“We have the usual car payments for the three of us, as well as Anya’s private school and Joe’s monthly stipend.”

“What does Uncle Joe do for me again?” I muttered with my eyes closed, trying to focus on what she was saying.

She sighed. “He does odd jobs here and there. You know he can’t go back to that dreadful job of his.”

I nodded, unable to remember what my uncle had done for work before I started supporting his family.

“There are a few new expenses. There’s Christian’s fee, which is nothing to sneeze at, and you’re going to need new outfits for the tour, so we have to add that in, too.” She chewed on her pencil. “Do you think Christian will lower his fee now that you two are…” she cringed, “seeing each other?”

I smiled. “I’m sure there will be no fee this month. We’re moving in together.”

“You are?” my mother asked with a frown.

I snapped up my head. “Yes. What’s the problem?”

“He’s moving here, right?”

“Yes.”

She wiped her brow. “OK, good. You scared me for a second. I worried you might have been thinking of moving to New York. You know how the cold weather wreaks havoc on my rosacea.”

I rolled my eyes, but her remark made me uneasy. She didn’t know how much Christian was sacrificing to be here, and she was worried about her complexion.

“You need to be nicer to Christian. He’s leaving his family behind.”

She shrugged. “Or he sees a new meal ticket here.”

I snorted. “He doesn’t need my money, Mom. He’s got plenty of his own.”

She narrowed her eyes, wondering if what I was telling her was true. “I can guarantee you, he’s not with me for money. He’s staying because he loves me.”

She went back to her spreadsheet, undeterred. “Anyway, I’m glad to hear you’re not thinking of moving. So, whom do you think we should hire to design the outfits? I hear Kendra’s got a great stylist.”

“She does,” I said non-committedly. My mind wandered to Fitz’s comments. How would I feel about not performing? Would I be happy just writing and composing songs?

The thought made me sit up straighter. It energized me. Worrying about performance anxiety, social media, or how to work an audience always weighed heavy on my mind. Those were the parts of this business that I dreaded and couldn’t wait to be done with so I could get back to making music.

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