“But my entire family would hate me.” I glance down at the table, thinking about how true that statement is. “Tiffany never would have forgiven me. Ever. And I wouldn’t blame her. I haven’t been there for her the way abig sister should be.” We exchange a look, knowing we’re in this together, no matter how it turns out. Offering him a small grin, I say, “I kind of wish I hadn’t said anything. Things were so much more fun a few minutes ago.”
Mac chuckles, then says, “Agreed. But I’m glad you told me how you’re feeling because it gave me a chance to set the record straight. You’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. None of this is your fault.”
“Well, maybe not the storm, but everything I did that led up to it was all me,” I answer. “I could’ve told Guy to shove it and left for the trip on time. It would’ve meant my job, but at the end of the day, it was my decision.”
“That’s an awfully tough call to make,” Mac says. “The career you’ve been busting your ass for for years or your sister’s wedding. Why did your boss make you stay, anyway? Did he at least have a good reason?”
“Yeah, he did,” I say, the memory of what happened flashing through my brain. “Have you ever heard of a rapper called Li’l Rhythm?”
He glances up at the ceiling, then says, “Is he the one from those Vialis commercials?”
My eyes pop open, excited that the commercials made an impression on him. “Yes!”
“My grandpa and his buddies love that song. When we’re watching baseball, they all sing along to the line about having some grey in my beard and wisdom in my eyes.”
“Do they really?” I ask, grinning with pride.
“Every damn time. It gets a little annoying, to be honest.”
“I wrote that song,” I answer.
He stares at me for a second, looking extremely skeptical. “You wrote that?”
I laugh a little. “I did. Can you believe it?”
He shakes his head as if someone just splashed him with water. “You wrote a rap song about erectile dysfunction medication?”
“Sure, why not? Somebody had to.”
“But … you?”
“What? Are you offended?”
“No, I’m just shocked. I mean, look at you. You don’t exactly give off the vibe of someone who writes rap songs in your spare time.”
“I was on the clock at the time, which is why I don’t have any rights to it and will never see a dime from all the sales,” I answer. “It’s a shame too because it’s sold millions of copies.”
“Who are you, Paige Chadwick?” he asks, looking impressed.
Blushing, I say, “Just an extremely determined woman trying to break into a tough business.”
“So, what? Your boss just pops by your desk and says, ‘Paige, I need you to write a quick rap song about Vialis for Li’l Rhythm,’ and you say, ‘Okay boss. I’m on it?’”
“Not exactly. Not to brag, but the whole campaign was my idea. The makers of Vialis were looking to expand their customer based to include black men age forty to sixty-four. I guess they already cornered the market on old white dudes. Anyway, the team was having trouble coming up with ideas, and it just occurred to me that we should try to get a rapper who was super popular twenty-five years ago. And one thing led to another, and…voila. A huge comeback for a tiny rapper.”
“And he didn’t want to write the song himself?”
Shaking my head, I say, “Nah, he wasn’t too interested in the project at first. But he was also in danger of having his lambo repossessed, so he agreed to star in it, so long as he didn’t have to write the song.”
“He owes you big time because you completely changed his life. He’s gotten really popular again.”
I wince, then say, “Yeah, except, did you hear about him collapsing on stage?”
“No.”
“Apparently, he became one of Vialis’s best clients. He took a couple before a concert, then another one on stage, then proceeded to have a massive heart attack.”
“Oh, that’s bad.”
