you’d come. So I did the thing I wished my parents had done for him—given him one chance to turn his life around.”
My insides are like a vice around my heart.
He looks at me, nodding. “You really proved yourself this last month and a bit. But the true test of success in life comes in the form of a path. For you it is a path into the unknown, as far as music is concerned. I never imagined you would be a very good music executive, but I did imagine you would be part of my label. I imagined your future was with me, making music. The true test is going to be during this contest, to see if you can live up to the pressure of being in the career you love. If you can cope with the highs and lows without resorting to your old habits.”
I wince. “Dad, I’m clean. I swear. No drugs and no random acts of insanity.”
“I know. We couldn’t control your extracurricular activities, but Henry had replaced your pills about six months ago. You’ve been off of your antidepressants and your antianxiety pills. And he put a natural sleep aid in your sleeping pill bottles. So whatever you were taking were either from the health food store or placebos. Unless you managed to get more on your own.”
I gasp. “What?”
No wonder I never had withdrawals. I’d been withdrawing from them all winter, unbeknownst to me.
He nods. “Yes. He was very particular about weaning you from them before we started the show.”
I stop walking. “You knew about the show before I got attacked and Weaver overdosed on cocaine?”
“Of course. Now, the deal stands. If your band wins, Leo will get the position at my label and I will sign your band.”
I cover my eyes with my hands. “Dude, what don’t you know?”
“The meaning of life has evaded me for some time.” His eyes soften. “But I am starting to see it now.”
I hug him. “I love you, Dad. You’re a peculiar man and a snoopy snooper-ton, but I love you.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Me too, kid. And I’m proud of you. I’m proud you took a chance on yourself.”
I don’t have a response. We continue our walk down the beach, holding hands and talking like I’m still seven. And the best part is, I feel seven. I feel clean and free and loved.
I feel like I am enough—good enough.
When we get back to the house I head for bed. It’s bright and sunny but I’m dying of jet lag. I turn my phone on quick, seeing a message on my voicemail.
Who calls anyone anymore?
I listen to the message. It’s from my doctor, but it’s too late to call him so I set my alarm for six in the morning and fall into a deep sleep.
When the alarm goes off I almost forget where I am. I swat at the wrong side of the bed, desperate to stop the noise. In my squinted and hazy vision, I see my cell flashing and reach for it, dialing the number in redial after I turn off the alarm.
“Dr. Brine’s office. How can I direct your call?”
I clear my throat but I still sound groggy. “Hi. It’s Lana Webber. I got a phone call yesterday—“
“Just a minute!” She interrupts me and puts me on hold.
Dr. Brine answers a second later. “Lana, how are you?”
Like I want small talk. “Fine, how are you?”
He chuckles. “Great. You and the young man are both clear. So I will schedule you in for six months?”
I nod, thankful yet again. I close my eyes. “That would be great.”
“Have a great day.”
I hang up and sigh, sending James a text saying we need to talk. My eyes are shut again as I hit send and fall back into a deep sleep.
Chapter Twenty
Pussy Cat Dolls
James
We land in Chicago with a two-hour delay, thank the gods. Brandon is still drunk and stinking to high heaven and Simon looks like he was raped. His clothes are tattered, but it’s the shell-shocked look on his face. Leo nudges me. “You think she hurt him?”
I shake my head. “Eva is known for being very gentle.”
Leo looks worried and whispers, “We need to get them changed and showered and shit. This is bad. Lana said get them laid, not give them PTSD.”
Brandon slumps into a chair and is snoring in seconds.
Simon sits tenderly.
“Oh shit. She played with his ass. Look how he’s sitting.”
I start laughing. “You sure he