The Girl He Used To Love. Amy Vastine
was not something Faith apparently indulged in very often. How else could she have closed up the bar, done laundry and baked a hundred cookies all before eight in the morning? If this was normal for her, her work ethic rivaled Dean’s.
She placed a bowl of uncooked rice in front of him. “I also dried your phone.”
Dean fished it out. “In rice?”
“It’s a little life hack I learned from my friend Josie. Her daughter has ruined more than one phone in her short fifteen years.”
Dean powered up his device and silently rejoiced when it came to life. Work was his life and had been since he’d graduated from college. Hired straight out of school as a member of the Artist Development team at one of the biggest record labels in country music, Dean’s first job had been to nurture new talent and help them slowly build their careers with a string of album releases.
He’d been good at it, too, which was why his firing had come as such a shock. Apparently, product—not artist—development had become the company’s focus. Forget about supporting the creative side of an act. Sell, sell, sell.
It had made Dean furious and even more determined to prove the big guys had it all wrong. Using every penny he had saved and then some, he’d teamed up with his best friend and started an independent label with a focus on finding a balance between fostering creativity and making a profit. Grace Note Records was supposed to be the solution to all that was wrong with the music business. Dean still had high hopes. Landon not so much.
“Did it work?” Faith asked.
He had three missed calls from Landon and one from Boone Williams. “It did. Thanks again.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to make a couple calls while you finish up.”
Faith pressed a lid on one of her containers. “I’ll be ready in about ten minutes.”
“Perfect.” Dean headed back to the front room for some privacy and dialed Landon.
“You are alive!”
Dean chuckled. “Of course, I’m alive. My car got a flat in the middle of a downpour. My phone got soaked and I had to spend the night in some rinky-dink town outside of Nashville.”
“Are you back? Because you have got to do something about Boone. I’m not talking to him anymore.”
Landon Gilman and Dean had met in a business class at Belmont University and struck up an easy friendship. They both shared a love of music and had spent countless weekends at the local dive bars listening to all the undiscovered talent Nashville had to offer. While Dean’s parents had fully supported his choice to study Music Business, Landon’s parents had pushed him into accounting.
After graduation, the two had remained close friends. When Dean lost his job, Landon had been the one who planted the idea that maybe he could do this on his own. It hadn’t taken much convincing to get Landon to quit his mundane auditing job and invest in the company. It had all been too easy. Until now.
Dean took a seat on the couch. Bad news should always be delivered to someone sitting down. “What’s the matter now?”
“He’s refusing to meet with Piper. Said there’s nothing we can say to change his mind, and if we push, he’s going to blow.”
Piper Starling was young, talented and the world’s biggest Boone Williams fan. She had a passion for country music and had been lighting up the charts since signing with Grace Note.
Piper also had a father/manager who imagined her to be the next Taylor Swift. Dean had a feeling that her dad was pushing her to write her own songs and try to cross over to pop music. He also feared that meant they were going to start looking for a bigger record company as soon as she fulfilled her contract with Grace Note.
Dean had hoped that a collaboration with Boone would encourage her to stay and reignite Boone’s creativity. It would solve many of Dean’s problems. He forgot that Boone never made anything easy.
“I’ll talk to him,” Dean promised. “He’ll come around once he sees that it’s in his best interest to cooperate.”
“Cooperation isn’t in that man’s vocabulary, Dean. And Heath Starling is not happy either, by the way.”
Of course he wasn’t. Dean scratched at the back of his neck. “I’ll handle it.”
“You better, because I threw in the towel last night.” Every time Landon said something like that, Dean’s blood pressure rose to an unhealthy level. Landon had been rethinking his decision to leave the security of a boring life as an accountant thanks to their constant issues with Boone. Dean needed Landon if Grace Note was going to survive.
“I’ll text you when I get everyone on the same page. I still have to fix my tire, but I should be home by this afternoon,” Dean informed him just as Sawyer strolled in the front door, whistling away. “And I have good news. I promise. Don’t go job searching on LinkedIn again.”
“The only good news that’s going to keep me from looking elsewhere is that you’ve found another way to recoup the money we’ve invested in Boone so we can drop him.”
Sawyer might be just that. “I’ll talk to you when I get back in the city.” Dean hung up and went to the kitchen, where Sawyer had been headed.
“I’ll pick some up after I drop off these cookies,” Faith said to her brother. She smacked his hand as he reached for a cookie. “Everything needs to be perfect. Don’t cut any corners, because the people at NETA will notice, and you know how important this is.”
“I know, and I’ll get it all done before the visit next week. I promise.” Sawyer held his hand out. “Can I please have a cookie now, boss?”
Faith set one cookie on his waiting palm. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
Dean’s guilt resurfaced and so did his grief as he watched brother and sister sharing a moment. Would Addison have needed him? Would they have remained close?
“You could if you stopped doing everything for everyone else in this town,” Sawyer said before devouring his cookie in two bites.
Sawyer stepped to the right and Faith noticed Dean standing in the doorway. “Are you ready to go?”
Dean pushed his feelings back into their hiding place. This was business, he told himself. Plain and simple. Sawyer was talented and could help get Grace Note out of the red. It wasn’t personal. Faith wasn’t Dean’s problem, anyway.
“Ready when you are.”
* * *
“IT LOOKS LIKE they have the road blocked off.” Faith pulled her car up next to the young deputy who was directing and diverting traffic. She rolled down the window. “Is there another way to get on Highway 14?”
Dressed in enough rain gear to protect him from a monsoon, the deputy pulled a whistle from his mouth. “We’ve been under a flash flood warning since last night. The highway’s closed from here to Highwood. You can take Whispering Hills down and get on 14 off Brighton.”
Brighton was a good fifteen miles from here.
“My car is no more than a mile down the road.” Dean leaned forward so the deputy could see him. “I need to fix a flat and then I’ll be headed north. Can you let us through?”
“Can’t do that, sir. Road’s closed. If you had a car out there, a flat tire is the least of your problems. Check back tomorrow.” He stuck his whistle back in his mouth and blew it at someone making a U-turn behind them.
Faith could feel one heck of a headache coming on. Maybe Dean would be willing to go to his parents’ now that he had to stick around a little longer. All she knew was that she needed to get him out.
“Take Whispering Hills but turn left on Rosewood,” Dean said.
“That doesn’t go all the way through to the highway.