Page 58 of Where the Music Grows

Another pause, and then Michael sighs again—a sound so heavy it makes my chest ache. I know I’m being a dick.

“Because, unlike you, we don’t hate it. I like doing what I do. I’ve got big plans for expansion and upgrades once it’s mine.”

That shuts me up real quick.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“Don’t be. I’m glad you’re doing your thing, but it’s not like we’re suffering. It’d be easier if we had you here to help out, but we’re managing.”

We talk a bit longer before I can hear the sound of my dad’s diesel truck through the phone. “I’ll let you go,” I say. “I’ll check in later.”

I slide my phone back in my pocket and go back to work.

“Lunch!” Aggie’s voice carries across the yard.

I glance up. She’s standing on the porch, a glass in hand.

“Be right there!”

The engine can wait. My stomach’s been growling for the past hour anyway. She insisted on making me a big lunch. We were celebrating. She paid off the loan she took last year and wanted to do something nice for me. I thought it was pretty cool that little old me was able to change her life in some small way. She certainly changed mine.

She’s made a big spread for lunch, grilled ham and cheese, another pasta salad, and what smells an awful lot like apple pie.

“Eat. You’re too skinny.”

“I’m not skinny,” I protest, but I’m already shoveling food into my mouth. “This is a lot for lunch.”

“Well, I know you didn’t eat breakfast.”

Aggie sits across from me with her own plate. “How’s the truck?”

“Almost done.” I gesture with my fork. “Should run smoother once I replace those spark plugs.”

She nods approvingly. “Handy and musical. Quite the catch.”

I nearly choke on my sandwich.

Aggie grins, unrepentant. “Speaking of—have you seen Jinnie lately?”

“Not much.” I scoop up some salad. “She’s been working a lot.”

Aggie sips her iced tea. “Girl’s always been a hustler.”

I swallow the salad and quickly wipe my mouth. “She keeps saying she needs money, but for what? Her place is paid for, right?”

Aggie shrugs. “I’m sure Jinnie’s got her reasons.”

Aggie isn’t afraid to gossip when she’s got the goods. I’m guessing she doesn’t know why Jinnie seems to be focused on making money.

That strikes me as odd.

But it’s none of my business.

The conversation shifts to last weekend’s crowd at the bar. Just thinking about it sends a thrill through me—the way people sang along, the way the room erupted when I played that new ballad.

“It’s crazy,” I say, shaking my head. “Two months ago, I was playing for cows. Now...”

“Now you’ve got groupies,” Aggie finishes, grinning.