Page 19 of Just Business

Penny scoots closer, opening up the notes app on her phone, and we start working on the list. I already have a few ideas for meals that will prove that I do, in fact, know my way around a kitchen.

* * *

Penny pushes the cart and I walk alongside her, our hands brushing every so often. Each time it happens, a jolt of electricity shoots through me like I’ve touched a live wire. There’s no way she doesn’t feel it. In fact, I’m certain she does by the way her breath hitches.

We gather what we need, talking effortlessly the whole time. She tells me a bit about growing up in Singing River. It was just her and her dad after her mom passed away when she was twelve. She doesn’t offer any details about her mom’s death, and I don’t ask. She also mentions that her dad passed away a few years ago, and that’s when she stepped in to take over the studio.

Her tone makes it clear she’s oversimplifying her story, but I don’t push her. That’s fine by me. We all have stories we keep locked away. I know that as well as anyone.

“Do you have any other family?” I ask, and quickly realize the question might be a bit too personal despite everything we’ve shared today.

But she just hums, tilting her head side to side. “Not really family by blood, no. I have my friends and the band. My aunt lives in Georgia, but we aren’t close. She and Dad never got along. My nana passed away from Covid, and Pops followed not long after. Everyone says he died of a broken heart.”

Well, damn. That really puts things in perspective. Life might have started off rough for me, but I have my aunt, uncle, Ty, and Cassie. I wouldn’t say I have my mom, and I sure as hell don’t have my dad’s sorry ass. Despite him, though, I never felt like I didn’t have a family; it just felt like I didn’t deserve them sometimes, thanks to the cruel words my dad ingrained in me.

A look must have crossed my face because she quickly adds, “It’s fine. I’m fine.” A beat passes. “What about you?”

I tell her a bit about my aunt and uncle, but like her, I also keep plenty of details to myself. I hate that look of pity people get when they hear about my whole shitty childhood.

We talk about Tyler and how he practically built his life around me. He’s been by my side every step of the way, even getting a degree in music management so that we could work together. My dream became his, and when my head is clear enough to think rationally, I remind myself of all the sacrifices he’s made. Guilt gnaws a hole in my stomach every time I think about how much he’s given up for my career.

She doesn’t need to know about my parents, but there is another topic currently on my mind that I’m comfortable bringing up.

“I have a younger sister—Cassie. She lives in Dallas with her asshat boyfriend. She’s a therapist there. I probably need to talk to her soon, clear the air a bit, ya know?”

She’s quiet for a beat like she’s choosing her words carefully. “You only have to tell me what you want to, if anything, but why do you need to clear the air?” she asks gently.

“Let’s just say, I’m her big brother. When my life started spiraling, she tried talking to me about it. Nobody knows me like her and I felt like she was trying to therapize me. I was in a bad headspace, and I lashed out. Some pretty awful things were said and I know I hurt her. We haven’t talked since.”

We’re in the cereal aisle and I clock that Penny tosses the store brand of cereal into the cart. In fact, everything she’s picked out has been store brand.

“How long’s it been since y’all talked?” she asks, steering the cart into the next aisle.

Taking a moment, I think back to when we last spoke, trying to recall exactly how long it’s been. “Hmm, it was Christmas. Seven months, I guess. I’m sure she’s angry and hurt, and I’m stubborn and ashamed. So yeah, not a good mix.” My response barely hides the pain in my words. Pain and regret.

“You think you’ll reach out to her soon? She’s probably pretty worried. If you were my brother, I know I’d want to know you were all right.” Penny reaches over, giving my arm a gentle squeeze. It pulls at something inside me, a comfort I didn’t even know I needed.

Letting out a long breath, I say, “Yeah, tomorrow I’ll take a couple of hours and get in touch with everyone. Ty’s filled them in on what’s going on, but they deserve a call from me. They deserve a lot more than that, if I’m being honest.”

There’s more courage in my voice than I actually feel. The thought of having all these hard conversations weighs heavy on my chest, but it’s something I know I need to do.

She nods, her eyes filled with understanding, and we continue shopping in comfortable silence for a moment, grabbing the last few things on our list.

“Have you ever had candy salad?” she asks, shifting the topic.

I raise an eyebrow at her, amused. “That's an oxymoron, Penny.”

Penny chuckles, shaking her head. “It’s basically a bunch of candy thrown into a bowl. Gummy candy, hard candy, but all fruity flavors. No chocolate allowed.”

Honestly, the thought of it makes my teeth ache.

“It’s my favorite guilty pleasure. We should make some. Candy salad can turn even the worst day around.” She grins up at me, full of so much confidence for a grown woman calling candy a salad.

To the candy aisle we go, grabbing all the fruity sweets we can find. Nerds, Twizzlers, Swedish Fish—you name it, it goes in our cart.

We roll to the checkout, and as we’re unloading the cart I spot the magazine rack. There, for the whole town to see, is that same damn gossip magazine I saw the other day. It’s like I can’t escape it. Penny sees me eyeing them, and before I know what’s happening she’s gathered every last one of them into her arms and tossed them onto the conveyor belt. I look at her with a quizzical expression, but she simply shrugs, continuing to unload groceries.

When the total pops up on the screen, I whip out my credit card and tap it before she even has time to fish hers from her purse.

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