Starting from Scratch (Starting from 2)

“Congratulations.” I pulled away from the curb and headed down the hill. “That’s great.”

“Thanks, Char. I need a big budget for this one. I want to hire…”

I let him ramble on about his new project—the actors he wanted to hire, and his plans to travel to nail down a site location—until I hit Sunset. Which roughly coincided with the end of my patience. I was extremely proud of my father’s professional accomplishments, but I became an anxious mess every time he announced a new project. It dated back to feelings of abandonment in my childhood for sure. And yes, at twenty-five, I was mostly in a good place with him. I understood that it was unreasonable to expect him to show affection according to my specifications. However, he had another kid who was nine years old and didn’t quite know what to think when Dad announced he was leaving for Toronto for a month…with his sexy young assistant.

Breakdown locked and loaded. I made a mental note to contact my therapist later before clearing my throat noisily.

“Dad, I have a question,” I interrupted.

“What’s up?”

“Do you know Herb Jenkins? He’s a record exec at Sony.”

“Yeah, Herb’s a good guy. Did he call you?”

“No, I just called him. And funny enough, I got through to him faster than when I called you.”

“Give it a rest, Char. I’ll talk to Giorgi. He was just being diligent,” he said.

“No, he was just being an asshole. Word of warning…if he tries that with Oliver, I’m going to go Kanye-style crazy on him.”

“Noted. What’s going on with Herb?”

“Nothing yet. I’m meeting with him next week.”

“Oh. I thought it was today.”

I smacked the steering wheel. “So you admit that you set this up after I asked you not to interfere?”

“Uh…no. I-I mentioned it in passing and he was interested. That’s not a bad thing, Char.”

I turned right onto my street and pushed the button to my garage door. “I don’t want your help on this, Dad. Don’t be offended.…I don’t want Gray’s help either. Sony is huge and—”

“And that’s what you need! They’ll put you guys on the map by Christmas!”

“I’m going to decide what we need, Dad. Me. It’s my job,” I sighed.

He waited a beat, then asked, “O-kay…how else can I help?”

He sounded so damn sincere that I found myself wracking my brain for real ideas rather than my personal wish list of “Break up with your boy toy” and “Spend more time with Ollie.” The first one wasn’t my business and the second was up to him.

“You don’t have to help at all. I can handle it.”

“Hmm. You sound stressed. What’s going on?”

This was why it was hard to stay angry at him. My father could be selfish, distracted, and unintentionally careless, but I knew he loved me. He just needed space to show it in his own way.

I drove into the garage and cut the engine. “Okay, since you asked…I’m worried about finding a label that fits in a timely fashion.”

“A meeting with Herb could solve that problem,” he singsonged.

“I’ll talk to him, but I think Zero would get lost at a big label. The guys agree. We’re having dinner with Sandstone on Saturday. I still need to do some homework, but I think they’re the best fit. It would be nice to have a mutual admiration society dining experience. Even better if they slapped a lucrative contract next to a gigantic bowl of spaghetti. Zero is more than ready for the next step, and I swear they sound better than ever,” I said before rushing into a story about Zero’s last show as I gathered my belongings and headed inside. I dumped my wet clothes on a barstool and set my bag on the kitchen island.

“Text me the info on their next show. I’d love to see them again. How’s the press so far?”

“If you’re referring to my promotional savvy, it’s fabulous. Anything I can control is going well. Zero’s social media presence is booming, their fan base is growing, and the shows are sell-out.”

“What about reviews?”

“They’ve been great. Of course, the only one I can remember is the one that called Zero a mediocre facsimile of an ’80s hair band.”

“Ouch.”

“I know. Being compared to relic music hurt,” I teased.

“Ha. Ha. Eighties music was the best. Forget about it. You’re never going to please everyone. Hey, you’re coming for dinner next weekend, right? I had the new barbeque installed and I’m grillin’ steaks and hot dogs…and healthy stuff too. Justin and Gray will be there. Maybe you should ask the skater kid too.”

“Ky?” I choked, widening my eyes as I glanced around my kitchen, silently reminding myself there was no way he knew what we’d just done.

“Yeah. Oliver loves him. He talks about him nonstop.”

“Hmm. Yeah, I don’t know about that.”

“Think about it. And let me know how your meeting with Herb goes. I love you. See you later, buddy.”