minute to put on my shoes.”
“You don’t need them.”
“I don’t?”
He shook his head. “I’m going barefoot too, since my sneakers are still muddy from last night. Like I said, it’s a short walk. Grab your guitar case, and let’s get going.”
As I followed instructions, I asked, “Is Loco going to be okay while we’re on our walk?”
“Yup. I put her in the bedroom with food, water, her litterbox, and some toys. She probably won’t even know we’re gone.”
“I’ve never seen her use it, so I’m skeptical that she’s actually litterbox trained.”
“Have you ever seen her crap in the house?”
“No.”
“So, there’s your proof,” he said.
“That’s not proof at all.”
“Sure it is.” Harper smiled at me and added, “Remember how you’re supposed to be agreeing with me?”
“Even about your chicken delusions?”
“Especially about that.”
He led the way down the stairs and across the perfectly manicured lawn. The grass was cool and wet under my bare feet. As it seeped into the hem of my jeans, I said, “I just flashed on a memory of Dallas and me as kids, running around barefoot down by the shore. It looked nothing like this, but somehow it feels the same. The smell is familiar too, between the briny sea air and the lingering scent of the rain-soaked soil.”
“It’s funny, I was just thinking it reminded me of Martha’s Vineyard. I couldn’t figure out why, because it doesn’t look anything like this, either. But now that you mention it, it’s that earthy smell, combined with the sea air.”
When he took my hand, I was surprised at how good it felt. His grip was gentle but firm, and he was so warm. After a minute, the grass ended, and we stepped onto soft, white sand. I started to head to the right, but he gently tugged me in the opposite direction, so I followed his lead. “Do we have an actual destination, or are we just going for a walk on the beach?”
“We have a destination. I went out location scouting this morning, and found a perfect spot.”
“For what?”
“You’ll see.”
I glanced at his profile and said, “You must have been up early.”
He nodded. “I had some stuff to think about.”
“What was on your mind?”
He stopped walking and turned to me. “How to make you a star.”
“Wait, what?”
“You heard me.”
“Yeah, but I don’t understand.”
“You’re the best singer I know, Phee, and working as an assistant is wasting your God-given talent. If you let me help, I know we can launch your musical career into the stratosphere.”
“I don’t know about this.”
“I know you’ve always said you want to do this on your own,” he said, “so I’m not going to overstep and try to manage your career or anything like that. I’m just going to give you a little push in the right direction by helping make one of your songs go viral.”
“How do you suggest we do that?”
“Easy. We film a video of the two of us, which includes you singing one of your songs, and I upload it to my millions of followers on social media.”
I shook my head. “No. Definitely not.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said with a smile, as he put down the canvas tote bag and unfurled the hammock, “but you still have well over three hours left to say yes to me.”
“So, that was about my career?”
“More specifically, it’s about finding a way around your incredible stubbornness and refusal to let anyone help you,” he said, as he carried the hammock over to a palm tree and tied it to the trunk.
“I don’t care what I agreed to. I’m not going to use you to launch my career.”
“You’re not using me, Phee. You’re allowing me to be a part of the process.”
“But—”
“Nope. No arguing,” he said. “We had an agreement. Four hours, nothing but yes.”
He stretched out the hammock and tied the other end to an adjacent palm tree as I said, “When I agreed to that, I didn’t know what it was about.”
“Please give it a try. I just know it’ll be the jumpstart your career needs.”
“Not necessarily. There’s no guarantee anyone will like my music.”
“They will.” I started to turn away from him, but he caught my hand and asked, “What are you so afraid of?”
After a moment, I admitted, “I’m afraid of failing. I know I’ve done that a million times, but this feels an awful lot like my last shot. This dream is all I have. If I fail again and finally have to admit it’s never going to happen, then