“I’ve got a couple others that are just about finished and a notebook full of shit I’m trying to make sense of.”
“How soon do you think you could have enough material to cut an EP?” he asked, rubbing his thumb along his jaw. “Five songs max.”
My stomach did a flip. “I think I could be ready in a couple weeks. Three, tops.”
He tapped his fingers on the desk, lost in thought. “And how would you feel about doing a couple of small showcases? Maybe even playing The Bluebird?”
“Are you serious? You think I’m good enough for that?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat. I’d never actually played the historic venue before. It wasn’t even something I’d let myself fantasize about because that was the stage for storytellers. So many of the greats had played there over the years, people whose names were synonymous with extraordinary songs, the kinds that stuck with you for a lifetime.
He didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”
I sat back in my chair, running my hand along the back of my neck. “Then yeah. Yes. I’d love to.”
“Look,” he said. “I would come out there myself and help you get ready for this, but it’s a tough time for me to leave Ella and Betty, and I’ve got some work going on here in LA. However, I can send someone in my place.” A soft smile played over his face. “I trained her myself, and she’s been needing a solo project to work on to really get her feet wet. I’ll be available to assist from out here in any way I can, but I trust her to take the reins if you do.”
I grinned, knowing exactly where his line of thought was leading. “Let’s do it.”
“Great,” he said. “I’ll have Grace in Nashville by the end of the week. In the meantime, you keep working on those songs, okay?”
“That sounds good.” I smiled, unable and unwilling to hide my excitement.
I couldn’t wait to tell McKenzie. I wasn’t sure what felt better—Cash being on board or knowing I had McKenzie to share the news with.
TWENTY-ONE
McKenzie
“I loved it,but I was definitely ready to come home,” my mom said as we perused the nearly empty aisles of The Thrift Stop the following Thursday evening. “I missed you.” She’d just finished telling me about her trip and all the delicious wine and food she’d consumed.
“I missed you too.” I smiled at her as I slid hangers down a rack filled with shirts. I plucked one off the rack and held it up for her. It was blue with a picture of a Rosie-the-Riveter-looking character printed on it.
My mom squinted as she read the words. “‘Strollin’ for Kelsey’s Colon.’ Well, that one has to come with us.” She took it and put it in the cart she was pushing.
“Kelsey’s friend did her dirty sending this one to the donation pile,” I said.
“I don’t know who Kelsey is, but I hope she and her colon are doing well.”
I laughed as I pawed through the clothes. My phone pinged with a text from my back pocket, and when I checked the screen, I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face.
Luca:Randy McNutt told me to tell you he misses you.
My fingers flew quickly across the keyboard as I typed my response:I miss him too. But I’ll see him again Saturday. ??
Bubbles appeared and then another text.
Luca:Do I really have to wait that long?
My lips pressed together as I tapped out another message:I thought we were talking about Randy? ??
Luca:What if it’s really me who misses you? Do I still have to wait till Saturday?
“Earth to McKenzie,” my mom said, nudging me with the cart.
I shoved my phone back in my jeans. “Sorry.”
She cocked her head. “And who was that?”
“A friend,” I answered, not looking at her as I continued to swipe through the shirts.
