AllFreeNovel
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“Jack!” I stamp my foot on the floor. Calling him by his first name used to get him riled up.
He stands, grabbing a Les Paul and wiping the neck with a cloth. “If you ever want to take over the studio one day, you have to be able to work with everyone.” He places the guitar back in the Les Paul rig. We have a couple dozen from different eras—Dad’s obsessed.
“Do not change the subject.”
He chuckles, stroking his chin.
“You know why I don’t want to see him again.”
“Squirrel,” he says, placing both his hands on my shoulders and shaking me a little. “Alice, honey.”
I study my boots.
“Allie, come on. Look at me.”
“No. You can’t make me.”
He tries to hide his grin, running a hand through his beard. “Why do you hate Navarone’s music?”
“I just do, okay?”
He lets me go. “Both your brothers and the guys still call him their best friend.” He taps his fingers on the console. “I bump into him when he’s playing around town every other week when I’m checking out the bars for new talent.”
I hold up my finger as a warning. “Probably more like working on his drinking skills instead of his guitar,” I huff out.
“He looks better, kid; cut the mob on his head he was sporting. And has been making progress with Sterling and the guys with their new EP.” A small smile plays at his lips. “Got some potential right there. You know you can’t cut him out of your life completely. He’s still your—”
“Watch me, Dad.”
Little lines appear between his brows. The nerve he has.
“And Axl and Gunner have bad taste in music,” I grumble, tidying up the studio.
“So you have been listening to their songs? I’m impressed.” He turns toward me, laughing his ass off.
“I haven’t.” I gasp. Sure, I did listen to their EP, but I’m not going to give Dad the satisfaction of underlining his all-knowing status.
“It’s not normal, all this negativity, where’s the love kid is all I’m saying,” he declares, adjusting his baseball cap and scratching his beard. “Messes shit up from the inside, and it has to come out sooner or later. It always does.” His hand moves from his head to his chest.
“Please, Dad, I know you’re a hippie but—”
“Can’t believe I have three kids who do not listen to the Grateful Dead and haven’t been to Bethel Woods once.” He shakes his head, holding his finger in the air. “Not once. You know Woodstock is the place where your grandparents fell in love?”
“Let me take some R&R. Please? Come on.” I pick up a couple of drumsticks and plectrums from the floor.
“Really healthy, by the way.” He sweeps his hand through the air. “Ignore the fact that their songs are playing everywhere right now. The fact that they want to record their debut album here, Allie, means buying new shit for the studio. Paying some other shit off.” He takes his seat behind the console before leaning back, his hands behind his head. “No to time off.” Turning his chair toward me, he asks, “And do you know why?”
“Why, Dad? I have applications stacked to the ceiling in my office from world-famous bands to record here.”
“Awesome hon.” He points a finger in my direction. “But they’re not as hot as these guys are right now. You should know, being his number-one fan from the get-go. You made your bed, kid, the moment you put on Mom’s leather jacket in Veg—”
“Damn it, Dad! I hate it when you make sense. And it was Mom’s leather pants, not a jacket,” I drawl, my hands in the air. “Facts. When I’m writing my memoir about how you fucked with my life, I can’t print fake news.”
“Love you, Squirrel.” He laughs, shaking his head before turning back to his beloved Neve console, like I’m the one acting crazy.
“By the way, I hung your suit for the freaking Country Music Awards in your office.” I brush my mess of hair back behind my ears.
“Thanks.”
