Page 38 of Missed Exit

“The land we live on has been in the Wells family for generations. Plus, if he moved to a bigger city, he might not be so important.”

“Ah, big fish, little pond.”

“Yes, ma’am. This roast is really good.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

I’ve been watching them talk without contributing at all. I’m sure Greta’s making note of that. I better chime in.

“I bet your parents would prefer you to stay out of dancehalls and get back into classrooms.”

He shrugs. “College wasn’t for me. They didn’t want me to go because it would teach me about the family business, anyway. Trust me, they planned on handling that education behind closed doors. The only reason they wanted me to go to college was for appearances. I was supposed to get the degree to hang on the wall, and make all the right connections.”

“You might need connections in the music industry, too.”

“I might like those people a whole lot better.”

Damn. For the first time ever, I hear real conviction in his voice. He knows what he doesn’t want. If he held that much conviction about what he does want, his chances would be a whole lot better.

“I think there might be more similarities in the two businesses than you realize,” I say. “There’s competition. Both can probably feel a little cut-throat at times. Chance plays a bigger role than people like to admit. You can be a big deal one day, and forgotten the next.”

“Yeah, and any industry can have its share of dirty deals being made, too. But until all the deals are dirty in the music business, the similarities are more limited than you know.”

“I’m sure there are good people working in the oil industry.”

“Of course there are. But they might be working for someone less good, whether they know it or not.”

Greta’s looking at me with so muchI told you soin her eyes right now, but I don’t know what any of this has to do with Derringer’s lack of commitment. In fact, if he’s that opposed to the family business, you’d think he’d be ten times more serious about developing all that talent he’s wasting. I actually can’t think of anything more motivating than a predetermined life you don’t want. Hell, he should be so desperate to prove his way off that path I’d have to remind him to get out and enjoy his youth before it’s too late.

Nobody has to remind this kid to enjoy a damn thing.

He's enjoying the hell out of this meal.

And Greta is enjoying the speech she’s writing in her head—the one she’s going to unleash on me as soon as he’s gone. I can see the purple glittery pen in her head flying across a page I won’t have to sneak to read. She’s going to be all too eager to share every word of it with me.

I sense a lot of verbal punctuation coming on. And the way she makes her eyes so big when she’s fired up. Hand gestures. She’s never going to leave those out.

20

Greta

Ready or Not

Thefrontdoorisbarely closed behind Derringer before I have to let it out. “Still think you’re so right about him?”

Law takes a deep breath. “I know what you want me to say here, but I also know you value honesty. So, yeah. I still think he’s not ready, and I still doubt his big break is ever going to come because I’m not convinced that he’ll ever be ready.”

“He might not need you. You’ve thought of that, right?”

“I have. And if someone else can save him from himself, then they deserve to sign him. They can claim to have discovered him, and he can write me out of his story completely. Honestly, nothing would make me happier than to be wrong about him, but I can’t keep pouring so much energy into someone who doesn’t know what to do with it and won’t listen when I try to tell him.”

“Maybe if you tried in a softer voice, Law.”

“A softer fucking voice? What do you want me to do, whisper sweet nothings in his ear?”

I glare, and I hope he knows he’s on thin ice here.

“The last thing I want to do is let you down again,” he says. "But I don’t see a softer voice reaching him.”

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