Page 2 of Can’t Say No

A gruff voice cuts through the fantasy.

“Delaney James, you are an embarrassment.”

I reluctantly pop one eye open, slowly returning to this unpleasant reality.

“Love you too, dad,” I deadpan. “Glad you were able to stream the set. I thought it was my best one yet.”

His anger comes off the phone in waves, and even Remi treats it like it’s red-hot, holding the phone as far away from herself as she can.

“Don’t get cute with me. You’ve been on thin ice all year. You’re constantly late, you’ve backed out of three major brand deals, and you’ve fired half of your management team. And don’t even get me started on your performances lately. You flubbed the National Anthem at Fenway, damn it! The last thing you need is more bad press, and then you go and pull this shit!”

This rant is nothing new.

My dad has micromanaged every aspect of my career since the beginning. He loves to list out all my failures, forgetting that I won a damn Grammy a few months ago. Sure, there was a whole outcry over it because no one thought I deserved it, and some trolls online even started a petition to get it revoked, but I won it nonetheless.

Also, it should be noted that the sound system was fucked at Fenway that day and I couldn’t hear myself. But I kept my mouth shut because some poor intern would’ve lost their job over it, and I was feeling benevolent.

Clearly, no good deed goes unpunished.

“Your ass is on the next plane out. I’m so done with this bullshit, Delaney. You’re coming back to Ridgecrest.”

That has me jerking up straight in my seat, both eyes wide open now.

“What the fuck. I’m in the middle of a tour. You can’t banish me to Ridgecrest.”

My dad’s dry, humorless laugh cracks through the phone.

“I can, and I am. If you’re going to behave like a selfish child who can’t play well with others then I’ll treat you that way.”

The phone goes dead, and with it, my hopes, my dreams, my sanity.

I was thinking he would demand a grand public apology, a big charitable donation, hell, maybe even a stint in rehab. But never in a million years did I think I’d end up on a plane back to Ridgecrest, Tennessee.

A plane back home.

2

CONNOR

It’s the final week of summer and the gym is packed. The new school year can’t come soon enough. I’ve spent the last nine weeks fending off my recently graduated students who think it’s appropriate to hit on me now that they’ve graduated.

Spoiler alert: It’s not.

But worse than being hit on by someone who needed my permission to go to the bathroom less than three months ago is enduring the weekly inquisition from Mrs. Hadley and her friends.

Every Sunday, they’re at the gym for the Senior Fit class and for any gossip they can weasel out of unsuspecting patrons. And by the way the three grey-haired ladies are stalking towards my bench, it looks like I’m their target today.

“Connor, dear, did I see you walking a young lady to her car at the farmer’s market yesterday?”

“Was it Maria?” Mrs. Lopez asks. “With the big hair?”

“She’s such a nice girl,” Mrs. Saunders clucks. “She used to help me teach Sunday school.”

They circle my bench like three hungry sharks who feed solely on small-town gossip.

Exhaling slowly, I set down my weights and take one earbud out, knowing they’ll keep standing there until I acknowledge them.

“Yes, I walked someone to their car.”