“I can pull some strings and get your father on the transplant list. He’d likely get to the top of the list within a couple of months.”
I open my mouth but close it again because I don’t know what to say. Mik’s dad has never shown any kindness toward me. He’s mostly ignored my presence whenever I’m at his place, which is rare enough. Before Mik went to college, we used to wait until his dad was out before we hung out, and when Mik left and I stayed, he started coming to my place instead.
“Would you…how is that possible?” I ask, hating that hope builds inside me so much that I’ll do whatever it takes to make this happen.
“When you know the right people, anything can happen. The question is, what are you prepared to do for something you really want?”
“I’ll do anything, Mr. Nilsson. If there’s even a small chance my dad could get better, I’ll do anything. I’m a hard worker. If you need help with your garden, I can do it. Any time I’m not working, I can help out.”
My brain tries to catch up with the beat of my heart, but I’m all over the place. Mik’s dad is the last person I ever thought could or would help us, but here he is. Maybe he’s not such a bad person after all.
He walks up to the shelf where my dad keeps his books. Each shelf has multiple framed photos of us and of Mik and me since we were twelve. The last one was taken on my birthday.
“Mik has been offered the opportunity of a lifetime,” he says, facing away from me. “It’s not what I would have wanted for him, but I’m told it’s what he wants.”
“What opportunity?”
Mr. Nilsson turns around and his eyes suddenly go colder. “A record producer has approached him to join a band they’re forming. There’s a good chance a five-album recording contract is on the cards if they find the right person. They think Mik is that person. Like I said, this isn’t what I would have wanted, but he’s excited about it.”
“That’s…fantastic news. We’ve worked so hard to get our music out there—”
“Mik’s music.”
Huh?“What do you mean?”
“The producing company loved the…songs you’ve written, and they’re paying very handsomely for the copyright.”
“I wrote those songs with him. They’reoursongs,” I say, my voice breaking and my heart only a beat away from following suit.
“Hence my generous offer to help your father.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a man now, so I won’t cut corners. I will ensure your father gets to the top of the liver transplant list. I will fund any further treatment he’ll need, as well as medication. In exchange, you’ll sign over your cowritten songs to Mik and let him pursue his dream.” He pulls an envelope from his suit jacket and hands it to me.
“What’s this?”
“A contract. Read it and sign it. My phone number is on it if you have any questions.”
With that, he turns and leaves.
I drop down on the couch.
Mik wants our songs? He’s joining a band? Recording contract?
My hands shake. This was my dream before it was our dream. How could he betray me like this?
My anger and disappointment fuel me, and I head back to the kitchen, pick up the phone from the wall and dial his cell number again.
“Hey, baby,” he says, sounding happy. “So glad you called. Sorry I didn’t pick you up from work earlier. I had a meeting at home, it ran late, and then I had to leave for school because I have an exam in the morning.”
“What meeting?”
“Tyler, you won’t believe this. This agent turned up at my parents’ place to offer me a recording contract with a band. Can you believe it?”
I hold the phone cord in my hand, trying to keep my voice as emotionless as possible. “No, I can’t believe it. Sounds amazing.”
“Right? It’s a dream come true. And the best thing is that my dad is actually on board with this. He’s encouraging me to follow my dreams.”
