a long hallway in the east wing to where Mom and I had lived, along with a few of the staff. Crew and Bria stop at her door, looking sad. “Come on, let’s get this over with,” I tell them.
“Don’t you need a U-Haul or something?” Bria asks when we get to my room.
I look at the ornate furniture. It’s not as nice as the rest of the house but fancier than what most people can afford. “None of this shit is mine. I only need my clothes, guitars, and a few other things.”
“Do you have any boxes?” Crew asks.
I shake my head and lean against the wall. “I don’t even own any fucking suitcases. Everything here is Dirk’s.”
Crew sends a text to Garrett, asking him to pick some up on the way. “Stack what you’re taking on the bed, and we’ll pack it up when Garrett gets here.”
A half hour later, I realize I have more stuff than I thought. The bedroom door opens. I expect Garrett and Brad, but it’s not them.
“What’s going on here?” Dirk asks.
“What does it look like? I’m moving out.”
He looks surprised, or maybe taken aback.
“Did you think I’d live here forever? Thanks to you, Reckless Alibi is on the fast track to being one of the hottest bands around. With that comes money. Lots of it. I don’t need you anymore.”
He takes a purposeful step toward me. “That’s where you’re mistaken. You’ll always need me, and I’ll always have a hand in what you do.”
I set my jaw obstinately. “You’re wrong. I’m on my own now, and that’s exactly how I want it.”
He chuckles. I’m all too familiar with that devious laugh. He’s got something up his sleeve. “You underestimate me. Do you really think I’d give you all the opportunities you’ve had and not make sure I’d profit from it?”
Garrett and Brad walk in. The air is thick with tension.
“Bad time?” Garrett says, dropping an armful of boxes on the floor.
I turn to Dirk. “What did you do?”
“I guess it’s time I told you. Two months ago I bought Indica Record Label.”
I swallow incessantly to keep the bile from spewing from my mouth. He owns the recording company that puts out our music. “You fucking prick.”
He smirks. “Is that any way to talk to your new boss?”
I get in his face. “You won’t be for long.”
“I know you recently got a fat check, but it’s a far cry from being able to buy yourselves out of the contract. You’re stuck with IRL, and you’re stuck with me whether or not you live under my roof.”
“Get the fuck out.”
“You can’t order me out of what’s mine, son.”
“Do not call me that, you son of a bitch. You aren’t even my real fucking uncle.”
Bria whispers to Crew behind me. “Dirk’s not his uncle?”
“No.”
“Wrong again, son. My brother adopted you. I’m your uncle legally and otherwise.”
My face contorts. “Otherwise? As if you’ve ever acted like family. I’ve had enemies who were more compassionate than you.”
“Look around,” Dirk says. “You’d do well to remember everything I’ve done for you.”
I laugh gruffly. “Everything you’ve done for me? You’re delusional. You think putting a roof over my head, over Mom’s head, somehow exonerates you from all the shit you’ve done?”
“Careful,” Dirk warns. “Best not to air dirty laundry in mixed company. It might make your friends view you a whole lot differently.”
“Go to hell, Dirk.”
“Get your shit and get out then. And leave the keys to the Mazda.” He leaves.
No one knows what to say. The silence is deafening.
I view the boxes on the floor. “You brought tape, right?” I ask Garrett.
He holds up a thick roll.
“Let’s get going. I don’t want to be here a second longer than I have to.”
Crew starts filling a box. “You can crash on my couch if you want.”
“I can stay at a hotel.”
“Don’t waste your money,” he says. “I’m at Bria’s half the time anyway.” He turns to her. “Babe, you mind if I stay at your place? That way Liam can use mine.”
Bria tries to mask her excitement. They’ve been together since last year. I’m surprised they haven’t already shacked up, given that Crew hates where she lives. “I suppose I could put up with you for a few days.”
He wraps his arms around her and whispers something that makes her cheeks flame.
I throw the tape at him.
We carry the boxes into the hall. Dirk waits in the hallway, presumably to make sure I don’t take anything that’s not mine.