Not enough to run away with.
And even if it was, I didn’t want to runaway. This was the closest to my dreams I was ever going to get. This was whatmy parents wanted for me, and they’d worked too hard for me to throw it away.
Going home empty-handed wasn’t an option.
“I know,” I said, grinding thewords out, my jaw tight. Fox must’ve noticed me tensing up, because his handshad moved to my shoulders.
He had no right to be assoothing as he was, but I was grateful for it.
“I’ve known since…”
Should I tell him thisstory? It wasn’tFox’s burden to bear, but…
I wanted to tellsomeone.I needed to tell someone.
And he was here, and he waslistening, and no one else ever did. I didn’t have anyone else to talkto.
Just Fox. And I knew hewouldn’tbe cruel to me over it.
“Since we got into a fightover me writing my own songs—wanting to write my own songs—and he broke myguitar.”
“He what?” Fox asked, voicedangerously low.
“It was an accident?” I said,wincing at the half truth. “I mean… kind of an accident, anyway. It was in theheat of the moment. He just grabbed it from me, and I tried to hang onto it,and the head snapped right off the neck. I guess it was kinda worn. I’d had itsince I was thirteen.”
I paused, taking a deepbreath and closing my eyes for a moment to focus on the grounding weight of Fox’s hands on myshoulders, the gentle squeeze he was giving me.
“I’ve never told anyonethat,” I admitted. “But… I know. Iknowokay?”
I finally gathered thecourage to look up, expecting to see disgust, horror, or worse,pityonFox’sface.
Which made it a littlesurprising to see an expression best described ashomicidal.
Not directed at me. Thatlook was for Uncle Vincent. If looks could kill, Fox’s eyes would have beenshooting laser beams into the elevator shaft to cut the cord and plunge myuncle to his death.
“You don’t have to take it,”Fox said, turning his attention away from the elevator and back to me, his facesoftening.
I was still thrumming withnerves, shocked at myself for spilling my guts to Fox, who should have been acomplete stranger to me. Whowasa complete stranger to me.
Except he didn’t feel that way.He already felt like an old friend, like someone I could rely on for a comfortinghug and a promise that everything was going to be okay. I wasn’t surewhythat was, but Icouldn’tafford to reject it right now.
I needed all the help Icould get. All thealliesI could get.
“I do,” I said. “It’s… theprice of admission. It’s the cost of having this career.”
“But is itworthit?” Fox asked. “BecauseI wouldn’t put up with—”
“You don’thaveto,” I snapped. Ithought Fox would understand. I thought he’d be able to see why I was doingthis, why it felt like a small price to pay to get what I’d worked so hard for.
“You don’t have to put upwith it because you’ve built your own life. My whole career is built on theback of connections he made for me. And I’ve got nowhere to go! What would Ieven do if I walked away now? Go back to living with my parents and waitingtables and dreaming of the day it’d all change, except it alreadyhaschanged and Ithrew it away because I couldn’t handle getting yelled at from time to time?”
“Quinn—”
“I know, okay? Ishouldn’thave to livewith it, but I do. It’s how things are, and there’s no easy way to changethem. I don’t need a lecture about it.”
Fox sighed, rubbing the backof his neck. “I’msorry, love,” he said softly. “You’re right. Not my place to say so. I just don’tlike him.”
“I don’t like him either,” Iadmitted. “But I don’t have to like him. I just have to do what he says, andmaybe if this next album does a little better than the last one… maybe I canwork my way up to doing whatIwant to do, y’know? Life isn’t allpuppies and rainbows.”
