Page 14 of Double or Nothing

The man extends his hand, a business card between his fingers. I glance down at the card. Dante Miller. Rocked Records.

Rocked Records?

Holy fuck.

I brush my right hand off on my pants. “Sir, I’m sorry. I thought…”

He holds his hand up to stop me from continuing. “No need to explain. Now that we’re on the same page, got a minute to chat?”

A minute? I have whatever time he needs.

“Yes, of course.” I glance back at the trailer where my dad is passed out. “I would invite you in, but uh…” I stop myself from continuing. “Why don’t we grab some coffee instead?”

“Sounds great. Hop in, I’ll drive.”

The sports car he’s driving is way flashier than anything this side of town has ever seen. Especially in this part of town.

I direct him to a small café, something close, but where I don’t run the risk of running into anyone I know.

We settle into the corner booth and the man, who looks like a million bucks, still somehow manages to fit into the space.

“I saw your show,” he tells me. “The one at Rock City Lounge,” he tells me.

My last show. The big show. The night I finally fought back.

“What did you think?

He chuckles at my question. Obviously, he must have been impressed with it to some level if he’s here. The kid in me, the one that lacked any sort of recognition from his father for the past ten years, needs the validation. I need to hear him say what it is I think I already know.

“Well, I must have thought you were pretty damn good if I flew all the way back here with this.” He sets an envelope on the table. “Go on. Open it.”

My hand trembles as I grab the envelope from the table. I’m almost afraid to open it. Fear my dream is coming true. Fear that it isn’t. And everything in between. I’m scared. Terrified.

Still, my fingers manage to slide open the envelope, and I pull out the sheet of paper from inside. The word Contract instantly springs off of the sheet and into my line of sight.

My eyes grow large, and I swear I look like a damn cartoon character. The one whose eyes get big and bug out of their head, stretching halfway across the room. Because the numbers I’m looking at – they can’t be real. None of this can be real.

“Are you serious?”

“Very. Listen, Sutton, not only the set you did was great, but the crowd reacting to you? That was even better. Fucking hell – the women loved you and everyone liked the music. You put on a hell of a show, kid.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Normally, people say yes.” He glances down at the paper, then back up to me. “Especially when it comes to numbers like that.”

I nod in both understanding and agreement. “I’ll have to talk it over with my manager.”

He lifts a brow, knowing damn well I don’t have a manager. All I have is Mac. And the person I really need to talk things over with is Kat. Because this affects her just as much as it does me. It’s our future.

“Don’t take too long talking to your… manager. If we’re going to do this, we need to get a move on and get you on the summer touring circuit.”

“Touring?”

“Yep. And recording in between.” He quirks up the corner of his mouth. “It’s a nice amount of cash, but they’re going to make you work for it. Good thing is, it’s work you love, right?”

God, do I ever.

Not to mention, I wouldn’t have to be under my dad’s thumb anymore. Christ, being away from him alone makes this worth signing – no matter the dollar amount.

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