Still, we move into jamming together. I’ve learned a few of their songs in preparation for the first audition, and despite my rattled confidence, I do my best, keeping my energy up, even when chords are fumbled and the harmony stilted.
It’s not just the music—it’s them—no,us.The worst thing is? A week ago, I don’t think I would have noticed. It’s a cold reminder of what my life was like before realizing things could be better—a puzzle piece cramming into the wrong board.
“We’ll let you know,” they say, and instead of waiting for the rejection, I shake my head.
“You can be honest,” I insist. “You deserve a better fit. I feel it too.”
There’s only one person I want to make music with,and he’s waiting.
“No, no, Marina, you’re great,” Star reassures me, nodding to Ned. “I liked it!”
“Besides, think of the crowd Jett Brooks’ and Willow Wiles’ daughter will bring in! You’re a legacy!”
My heart drops.
“You knew?” I say, taking a step backward.
“Well, yeah, but don’t worry. It’s not the only reason we called you in. You have a unique sound.”
One that doesn’t mesh with theirs—and still, they’re willing to cram me on like an ill-fitting pair of Doc Martins because of my parents.
“No,” I say, surprised at how firm it comes out.
I can’t go backward, not anymore, because this past week, I’ve been something I’ve only experienced at Grams’ apartment: wanted just for being me.
And I’m not going to let go of that feeling so easily.
Chapter 30
Marina
Idraft my resignation letter for Aunt Andrea twice, have Grams check it over for me, then rewrite it again after explaining I cannot professionally call her a “Viper” or “Groupie.”
Still, as I approach the office, my courage wavers.
“I was hoping we could talk,” I say, an hour early for my shift. She’s already in her leopard print office, squinting at her laptop. The online listings from the store are up, something Jenna helped her build because as good as I am on the sales floor, tech has never been my strong suit.
“Ah, you’re here. I suppose that new café just opened up around the corner.” There’s a gleam in her eyes that makes me feel uneasy. As she stands up, I expect her to ask me questions about the backend of the website. Instead, she reaches out to squeeze my arm.
I’d rather schedule a dental cleaning than go on a coffee date with her. But that’s the most dangerous thing about Aunt Andrea: she’s hard to say no to, especially when she acts like she’s happy to see me.
It’s so rare it takes me aback, and I have to remind myself I’m not a child who needs her approval or attention. But I’m overtaken by the heavy spice of her musky perfume and then her arms.
Her grip is tight, more like a snake sizing up its prey than a warm embrace, but despite every bone in my body begging me to pull away, I sink into it.
Has she … ever hugged me before?
“There’s plenty of time before your shift, and the two of us never get out.” And just like that, Aunt Andrea is guiding me toward the door.
Well, weare family. Maybe having me gone for so many days in a row has reminded her of that.
So, within fifteen minutes, we sit together at a small table, surrounded by laughter and conversations. I hope putting in my two weeks doesn’t add yelling into the mix.
“I know I’ve been working for you for a while now,” I begin, deciding to cut to the chase. “Things have come up, and I am going to have to put in my two weeks’ notice.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Will you be having the stomach bug for those two weeks?”
“I—” I hang my head. “I know I shouldn’t have lied about that. I got caught up with this new thing that’s been going on, and it looks like I might be moving.”
