Page 13 of Bone Dust

Sam’s brow quirks. A smug expression settles into his features as he folds his arms across his chest.

“No. I didn’t. Mainly, because that don’t factor into what I’m asking you. I told you she’s a singer at my bar. That’s what you needed to know. As far as your opinion goes, you got a set of ears don’tcha?”

His smart-ass attitude draws me back. “Need to know? That is all I know. You never told me if I was coming to hear a man or a woman. You gave me nothing.”

“And why would I? It ain’t like you need to know her life story to tell me if you think she’s got talent. You don’t need no more information. Tell you the truth, after the exchange I saw tonight, I’m not sure I want you to know her.”

He leans back and locks down his cocky bearing with a solid folding of his arms across his broad chest. Though he’s got a point, I’m taken back. Of all people, I thought Sam would have a different opinion of me than the rest of the world. He’s watched the transformation in me over the past couple of years, but I guess opinions are slow to change. I can’t fault him for being cautious with someone he obviously cares about. No matter if they’re related or not, no decent uncle, surrogate father, friend—whatever—would want a girl like her around me. I guess it’s true when they say your reputation precedes you. In most people’s minds, mine is lit with neon lights.

“I’ll keep my distance. Got it.” I press my lips tight and nod.

“I ain’t telling you what to do but, you’re right; she is special to me—and Savi don’t usually act like that. Tell the truth, I ain’t never seen her behave like that before.”

I should have seen that chip on her shoulder as soon as recognition dawned in her eyes. An opinion was formed by an earlier run-in, putting me, and all the work I’ve done to better myself, at a disadvantage. To her, I’m a pariah—but Sam? His comments sting. Because of all the help he’s given me, I owe him. My loyalty to him is bigger than my ego.

“You don’t want Savannah to deal with that company. Trust me.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, they’d had some to drink, but they might not be like that when they’re at work. Most people that come to a bar leave a little tipsy.”

“That wasn’t ‘tipsy’. If you give Savannah that card, you might as well throw her to the wolves. I know. People like that only have money on their minds. I know first-hand. If you have reservations about me getting to know Savannah, you sure as hell don’t want them around her.”

Sam’s eyes narrow and his gaze intensifies. He leans in and props his chin on his hand. “You aren’t so bad and make no mistake; I’m not trying to hook you up with that girl. Truth be told, I’d prefer you don’t get no ideas like that, but I need you to be straight with me first before I ever present the idea of helpin’ her get a record deal. Tell me, Ian—no bullshittin’—she got what it takes?”

His voice descends and his tone is more serious than I’ve heard in a long time. I study his face. Honesty is all Sam and I have ever exchanged but, he should know, my opinion isn’t worth shit. The last thing he should ever do is put faith in the view of a junkie—former junkie.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head and shrug.

His eyes narrow. “Why the hell not? You got ears and experience. Your opinion means something to me. She’s got the voice of a got’ damn angel.”

“Well, my judgment might not be what you’re looking for, so I can’t give you an answer. The music industry can be unkind. It’s a different kind of devil.”

“Dammit!” He shouts.

“Stop. Take a breath, will you?” I raise my hands in surrender. “All I can say is I liked what I heard.”

“If you’d a come here more, you woulda’ heard more. It ain’t like I haven’t been invitin’ you for over a month.”

I watch him as he slips off the barstool and stomps away, putting some distance between us. A few seconds later he turns and eyeballs me with an agitated stare while I measure the rise and fall of his chest in huffed breaths.

“Ian, I know that guy looked like a sleazebag but, if he really does know people, and I don’t give Savi his card …”

He stops talking mid-thought. Somehow, I feel I’m in an alternate reality. Maybe he didn’t see what I saw, but I’d think that years spent as a sponsor would have exposed him to some of the worst people. It’s a few minutes before his irritability deflates.

Finally, a sigh escapes on a rush of air. His shoulders slump. He drags a hand through his thick mop of gunmetal-colored hair and pulls the bar towel off his shoulder, carelessly tossing it onto the counter before dropping into a seat beside me. A sense of defeat wraps around him.

“I don’t know anything about those guys. That’s the honest-to-God truth. But, for you, I’ll check around.”

He lifts his chin. “I want her to get a break, Ian.”

“It isn’t the end of the world if she doesn’t. It doesn’t always work out the best for people, Sam. You know how it fucked me up.”

“Yeah, but she ain’t you. She’s got her feet on the ground.” He looks up with pleading eyes.

“Nobody’s me at first but, given unfamiliar circumstances, the worst things happen to the best people.”

“She deserves a break. You don’t know … I just want her to find success.”

“Let me rephrase then; I was a successful fuck-up. But, in the end, I almost lost everything.”

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