Page 18 of Love Me Steadfast
He grabs a pint glass and fills it with ice. “Ray who?”
“Ray Hannah.” The two barflies are now watching us.
The bartender fills the pint glass with soda from the gun and sets it on the bar with the ticket. “Have you checked the office?”
Maybe I should have borrowed Morgan’s keys to access the back door, but I wanted the full picture first.
“Thanks,” I tell him, and push off the bar. I weave through the cocktail tables edging the dance floor and manage not to give the empty stage even a passing glance before I turn down a back hallway lined with black-and-white pictures of famous musicians, each of them signed. The soft clatter of silverware and murmur of conversation from the dining area fades. Each step I take towardthe office door pulls me further back in time. Both my own, and from a lifestyle I’m no longer part of.
I pause at an image that wasn’t here the last time I was in town. It’s Dagney Cole, the star I just saw on TV. A wave of sadness pulses through me. I hadn’t known she’d played at The Limelight. And now…she’s gone.
After a heavy sigh, I continue to the office door, painted the same soft black as the rest of the wall. At night, it makes the seams almost invisible. My knock echoes through the empty hallway. From behind the door, the faint murmur of a one-sided conversation comes to a halt.
“Come in!”
I turn the knob and step inside. Dad’s perched on the edge of the big desk, a cell phone against his ear. “It’s done, so you won’t have to worry,” he says, and ends the call.
The office is the same cheerless room as I remember. A banquet table-turned desk runs the length of the back wall with a chair and computer setup on the right side and a row of three-ring binders stacked like library books on the left. Underneath the desk is a thick metal safe. On the opposite wall stands a metal shelf unit packed with printer paper boxes, partially dismantled restaurant equipment, shrink-wrapped linens from the laundry, and a giant toolbox.
Dad runs his hand through his thinning hair. “Hey, pumpkin. Heard you were back.”
The endearment skips right over my heart, even as a part of me wants to let it in. “You sold The Limelight?”
Finally, he meets my gaze. His hazel eyes are watery and his cheeks are pale. Did he spend all summer in this box? “Yep.”
I lean back against the wall and rest my head. When Morgan told me, I didn’t have any reason to doubt her, but I needed confirmation in order to fully process it.
Even though I walked away from this place years ago, it doesn’t feel right that someone else will take it over. The Limelight is still oneof the most sought-after small music venues in the region. Bands and musicians still get discovered here. What will happen to its legacy? My dad may have been a workaholic who was stretched thin, but he gave this place thirty years of his grit and dedication.
“What about Morgan?” I ask.
His mouth tightens. “I’m assuming you know where she is?”
I shake my head because if I pick open this old wound now, things will just get more difficult. “I visited her this morning.”
He nods, the fight flickering from his eyes. “She okay?”
She’s not dead, I want to say but bite it back. Not answering his question might be passive-aggressive, but I don’t give a fuck right now.
“So that’s it?” I let my hands drop to my sides. “You just cashed out? You’re done?”
His cheeks seem to hollow before my eyes…like he’s tired. “It’s been…hard…lately.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. When has it not been hard? “Last time I was here …things seemed good.” I didn’t get the sense that The Limelight was in trouble. And holy hell, Morgan sounded good that night. I left here feeling hopeful. Like maybe we were all going to be okay. Finally.
“You think this is easy for me?” Dad fires back. “Watching things fall apart? Walking away?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would you have done a goddamn thing about it if I had?”
Maybe I deserved that. “Not for this place, but for you or Morgan, I would have.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” he says, scratching his whiskered chin with his fingertips. “It belongs to someone else.”
The relief in those words takes me by surprise. I’ve spent a good amount of time wishing Dad wasn’t married to this place, that instead he’d be more like a normal dad. A dad who wasn’t always scheming ways to raise money for improvements or new ideas or toattract bigger stars. A dad who wasn’t semi-famous in town, turning a trip to the grocery store into social hour where Theo, Mo, and I were forced to stand there politely mute, waiting for him to end his conversation.
The billboard I saw earlier flashes to life inside my mind, bringing on a cold wave of dread.
