Page 37 of Sweet Oblivion

Aya inched closer to me, no doubt feeling my shudder of revulsion.

Steve laid his hands on our shoulders. “Time to head to the hotel,” he said.

Neither of us argued.

Later that night, after the concert, Aya was in her room reading some thick, boring book about an astronaut that she claimed was fascinating. I’d left her to hang out with my dad in his suite—at his request. The July heat pressed against my skin as we stood on the balcony, making it itch a bit, but I wasn’t focused on the physical discomfort. Instead, I gaped up at my father, still unsteady from the bombshell he’d dropped.

“You don’t want me on tour with you?” I asked.

I couldn’t believe his words. No way! No way my father didn’t want me… I’d pretty much written Quantum’s previous album; my dad had promised to take me to the concerts, to let me hear the fans’ reactions to my songs. To let me play one of them, tell the world they were mine.

“But you said…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. My ears rang as embarrassment crested over me in a huge wave.

He refused to look at me, instead facing the Nashville skyline and clutching the thick, metal railing. “This tour’s based on the collaboration between Beanie and me because you wouldn’t write anything.”

“Because I couldn’t—” I swallowed. “I’ve been busy with school…”

“Anyway, there’s really no reason for you to join me on this next leg.”

“But you said I could play my song—”

Dad tossed his half-smoked cigarette off the balcony, not seeming to care where it landed below. Smoke rippled out of his nose. “Those are my songs. Mine. They’re on my album, and my band plays them.”

“I wrote them, and you said I could play—”

Dad narrowed his light brown eyes, and I felt a twinge of unease. “No. You’re not going to fuck with my music. My legacy.”

“But…but…”

Dad kicked at my lounger. “You’re fucking up my band. You need to go home in the morning. Get your mom to spend time with you.”

“Mom’s in Paris.”

“Like I give a fuck. Stay here, hang out with that little girl you brought along. I don’t care as long as you’re not with me.”

Those words slammed hard into my chest, reverberating there, much as the metal lounger continued to vibrate from Dad’s kick. The thick, fluffy cushion couldn’t conceal the attack.

If I hadn’t been sitting, I might have staggered backward under the onslaught of emotions. The physicality and the ugly, closed expression on Dad’s face combined with the words… I felt as if he’d hit me, not once but many times. My chest felt bruised and achy.

I swallowed a deep sense of loss. I’d prided myself on my easy relationship with my father. But I realized now, that had been gone since Lev died.

I had to try one more time. “Dad, I don’t understand…”

His face twisted in a snarl, and I shrank from him, unsure if I should run or prepare for a blow.

“Are you stupid?” he yelled. “I said no, you’re not performing. You’re not part of my tour. That’s the end of it.”

Silence engulfed us. I felt…bereft, as I had when Lev died. I could hear Dad breathing in sharp pants. The door opened behind me, and my neck prickled as Steve came to stand next to me. He kept his gaze on my father, and something passed between them.

“I don’t have time for this shit,” Dad said, pushing past Steve and striding through the suite.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked. Worry clouded his eyes.

I was contemplating how to form words when my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket. Cam’s smiling face appeared on the screen for a video call, and I pressed the green Accept button, feeling wooden.

Cam’s grin slid off his face. “What’s wrong?”

I blinked back tears. “My dad just told me I can’t travel with him for the rest of the tour.”

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