“No,” I say finally. “It’s nothing you did. The guitar is beautiful. I’m just tired is all. I think I may call it an early night.”
“I don’t understand,” she says, following me back toward my garage apartment.
“It’s fine,” I say. “I think tonight was just a little overwhelming. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Wait,” she says, her voice almost more of a cry. “I had one other present for you.”
She stands with me under the light of the garage, waiting.
I have the guitar case in one hand, and I shove my other hand deep into my pockets. I know I’m acting weird, and I want to stop and just smile and be my normal fun self, but I can’t even find that part of myself right now. The whole world just feels heavy.
She pulls a card from her pocket and runs her fingers over the top, taking a deep breath.
“Okay, so remember when that guy Owen came in the bar to talk to you?” she asks.
My eyebrows draw together. “Yeah?”
“Well, I didn’t tell you then, but I pulled that card he gave you out of the trash,” she says. “I know you said you didn’t want to audition, but I couldn’t let you throw away an opportunity like that.”
“Jo—”
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but I called the station and they said they’re still really interested in having you come down,” she says. “Owen heard about you co-writing that song with Long Road Ahead, and he says that they think you’re really special, Colton. They opened a slot for you to audition, if you want to.”
“What? When?” My body tenses. I didn’t ask her to do that.
“Two weeks,” she says. “From tomorrow. Eight in the morning. You’d go in for the last hour or so of Owen’s morning show and just be yourself on air. Give it a try and see how it feels. I thought it might be fun. What do you think?”
I clear my throat. “Jo, you shouldn’t have done that,” I say. “I threw that card away for a reason. I don’t need you to go setting things up for me like that without even asking me.”
Her eyes grow wide and she looks like I slapped her across the face, she’s so disappointed.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I thought you would be excited.”
“What on earth made you think I would be excited?” I say, an edge of anger to my tone that I can’t get control of.
“You’re such a natural up on stage,” she says. “You have the kind of personality that draws people to you so easily. You always make people happy. You’d be perfect for this kind of thing, Colton, I know it.”
“I like my job at the bar,” I say. “You know I couldn’t do a daily morning show and still keep working with you. So is that what this is about? You don’t want me working at the bar anymore?”
“Don’t be like that,” she says, crossing her arms. “You know that’s not what I meant. This is a good opportunity for you is all. If you don’t want to do it, then don’t. But I think you’d be great at it.”
I hear my father in her words. A good opportunity. Stop being an irresponsible bartender and get a real job. The bar is fine for her because she’s part owner, but me? I’m just the loser who works for her, right?
“Just think about it,” she says. “If you really don’t care about doing it, no big deal.”
“Right,” I say, taking the card from her hand. “If I don’t go, then what am I really doing with my life, am I right? You can’t sling drinks forever and expect to be a real man. Is that not good enough for you?”
She steps back. “Colton, I never said that.”
“Not in so many words,” I say. But I understand the gesture.
“All I want is for you to be happy,” she says. “If you can’t see that, then you’re blind.”
“Well, maybe I’m blind then,” I say. “Look, I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Don’t leave like this,” she says. “Angry. I didn’t mean to upset you, Colton, I swear.”
“It’s fine,” I say, even though it’s not fine at all. Maybe she wants me to be something I’m not. Something I’m not capable of being. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
She shakes her head, tears glistening in her eyes.