Page 25 of A Way Out
“Are you acting out because of your divorce? And how are you planning to pay for this sponsorship, anyway? Your ex’s money?”
Jesus, he was a dick. But he didn’t take it back, not even when she paled and her eyes went wide before she swallowed and shook her head.
“It’s my money. Anything from Vic will be used strictly for Riley’s well-being.”
At least he now knew the ex’s name, not that it mattered. And he supposed she had integrity. Still…
“You told me you’ve never worked a day in your life. How could you possibly sponsor a band if you have no form of income?”
He was definitely trying to scare her off. The question was why. Did he want her to take back her offer to sponsor them? Or did he want to draw a line in the sand, make it clear that if she did this, she had to forget any attraction she had to him?
Or was he trying to do that to himself?
Her cheeks turned an alluring pink while her gaze found the floor. “I, uh, have an inheritance,” she whispered. “I’ve not touched it. I haven’t needed it.” She lifted her gaze, caught his eye, held it. “I want to do this. Not for you but for myself. You guys are amazing. All you need is a chance to prove it. I want to give you that chance.”
Well, damn. “Why?” he persisted anyway.
“Because I have never taken a chance in my entire life. I’ve never allowed myself to dream. And as weird as it sounds, this feels like I’m fulfilling my own dream. Even though I don’t even know what that dream is yet. So let me do it.”
That made sense.
What didn’t make sense was his wavering commitment. Or maybe what didn’t make sense was the fact that he’d committed to this band in the first place.
Because his priorities were his kids. And his mother. He couldn’t leave them high and dry while he went off to chase his dreams.
That was the real problem. He’d been stalling for months. They’d formed the band in January, came up with the name, recorded an EP. Even put one of the songs, “A Way Out,” up on Spotify and YouTube.
It was getting decent downloads. He’d created an Instagram account for the band, but when he couldn’t keep up because he was working too damn much, he gave Lacey a few suggestions as to what to post, and let her have at it. Every time she posted a pic or a video, fans asked for more.
When’s the next song coming out? When are you going on tour? Where are you playing next?
Lacey and Cash were right that they continued to play the same bars over and over, although their LA shows consistently filled up. But they were small venues; the revenue was capped way too low for five people to truly make a living.
They’d laid the groundwork. They had the talent. They had already written enough new material to record a second EP. Probably even a full-length album.
They needed to get out on tour. That was the only way they were going to move to the next level.
And yet, Oz continued to put up roadblocks. Insisted Bridgette book them shows only in LA.
That way, he could still be home in time to grab a few hours’ sleep before he headed to whatever job he was working the next morning.
It sucked, to be honest. All he was doing was dragging himself—and the band—down. They couldn’t go on like this, not if they wanted to succeed, yet he couldn’t figure out how to break out of this routine he’d created.
“I have to support the kids. My mother,” he admitted. The words tasted like ash in his mouth. Not that he didn’t want to support them, but that he had to choose.
“That’s what we’re trying to do,” Maria said quietly.
“I mean, right now. Like, tomorrow, I need to pay the electric bill. Izzie needs a new pair of shoes. There are all these end-of-school things that always crop up to nickel-and-dime parents. None of that will wait until we make it.”
“So what’s your plan?” she asked, crossing her arms.
Oz blinked. “Plan?”
“Yes. When are you planning to tell the rest of them that you aren’t going to be part of the band?”
“I’m not,” he insisted, but he knew where she was going with this. Exactly where he ended up, night after night.
“I just haven’t worked out how to do both,” he finally admitted.
