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My phone began to sing as a photo of Clay and I at Milo’s wedding showed up on my screen. Not caring what Jamie heard, I swiped to answer.
“Good morning,” I began.
“Morning, Clay!” Jamie shouted beside me.
“Is that Jamie!?” I heard in the background.
Clay simply pursed his lips and waved at the screen as Ophelia became larger in the background. Once she was behind him she swooped his phone away, the screen becoming a giant blur.
“Jamie!”
“Hey, Phe!” Jamie reached for my phone and held it up to her.
“I guess I’ll talk to you later, Clay!” I shouted.
“I’ll call you on Zoom.” I heard his faint voice as Jamie took my phone to the couch, plopping down as she and Ophelia began a conversation.
Laughing, I opened my computer and waited for Clay to start a Zoom meeting.
With things falling into place—a firm date on Clay coming to Portland and the broker hired—I gave Jamie a quick kiss, grabbed my new guitar, and headed toward The Cabin for tonight’s show. Once parked in the garage on Main Street I pulled out my phone to look at the screen.
During my talk with Clay it hit me that I hadn’t talked to Jacob about any of this. As much as he hated it, and me at the moment, he had every right to know what was going on.
I opened his text thread, and quickly typed.
Me:Clay’s coming to Portland to help with the sale. Hired a great agent and we are confident in this move. Park City has been a blast, actually playing a show tonight and next week. Talk to you soon Jake.
The message swooped away and I locked the screen, the text thread turning black. I leaned and shoved my phone in my jean pocket, grabbing my coat on the passenger seat before stepping out of the Jeep. Before I could grab my guitar and lock the door, my phone began to ring. Jacob’s name flashed on the screen, the green circle to answer him staring me in the face.
“Alright then,” I mumbled before answering. “Hey, Jake,” I said, hoping my enthusiasm was there.
“So, you’re selling? You’re really selling to play guitar on a dingy bar stage?”
“Yes, Jake, I’m selling. Mom gave her blessing and dad . . . kinda did.”
“Dad did no such thing.” I could hear his teeth clamp down on each other, the strongtapthat came whenever he clenched his teeth. “I talked to him . . .”
“He told me that he would be supportive—”
“He has no idea what he talked to you about. When I’m there he talks about Mom and the company. He asks how you’re doing with it and then asks if you’re still wasting your life with that dumb guitar.” Jacob’s voice was getting louder and louder with every syllable, reminding me of our dad. He would always say I was wasting my time, that I belonged at the firm to make sure everything there was run smoothly—that music would never be a career.
I had begun to drown him out as he rambled on about how Dad was wrong to leave me in charge of the firm, how he would have gladly run it on the side and how I was just too naive to see that it was just as important as anything else in the family.
I slammed the door to my Jeep shut, setting the guitar on the ground, feeling the anger and fire rise in my chest until I finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. Jacob may be older than me, but he didn’t need to make me feel this way, especially when he was putting down everything I loved and everything I had worked for my entire life. Music wasme, sitting behind a desk was . . . not.
“You just don’t seem to give a shit about your family. All you care about is that fucking guitar!” Jacob shouted.
“And how the hell would you know what I care about, Jacob? Have you even seen me on stage? No. Have you seen me at that firm? No! I put my all into that office while I’m there and Idocare about it, but it’s not what Iwant.You have never been to one of my shows—not even when I first started. I guarantee you’ve never even listened to my music online.” Now I was shouting. People passed, giving me a look as they left the parking garage, but even through their stares I laid into my brother. “Music is my passion, Jake, not managing people who went to school longer than I did and have a passion for that. I want to give them someone better than me. Someone who can help the company grow bigger than it is. Dadtold me that all I had to do was ask myfather,and I may be surprised by how supportive he actually is.
“So,Jacob,”I spat him name, “until you can accept that I’m doing whats best for me, and the fucking company, you can just lay off. And maybe . . . just maybe . . . support your little brother from time to time.”
I hung up on him before he could say anything. I heard a faint sound before I slammed on that red button. I didn’t care what he had to say—let him be angry, let him hate me, let him throw a tantrum like a five-year-old.
Taking a deep breath, I relaxed my shoulders and bent to pick up the guitar case. I had a show to perform.
Chapter Thirty-Four
-Jamie-
