Page 59 of Love is a Drum Beat
A laugh burst out of her. “Does this have something to do with Jo?”
He couldn’t tell her the story Jo told him. He couldn’t tell anyone. After she’d gone inside, it struck him. Jo Jackson trusted him.
And despite the sadness of her story, he couldn’t get that thought from his mind.
“Dax?”
“Yeah, Mom?”
“Take care of her.”
He drew in a breath. “I am.”
“I don’t only mean physically. She’s special, isn’t she?”
He leaned his head back against the headrest. He’d always known Jo was special, but now… “She’s been through a lot.” More than he ever had. “And she’s still standing.”
“Sounds like a song’s coming on.”
“You always think everything is a song.”
“Because, oh son of mine, with you, it is. Music has always been how you relate to the world.”
“It’s the only thing I’ve ever understood.”
“Maybe you should try to have the music help you understand something new.”
He smiled before realizing she couldn’t see it. “I have to go, Mom.”
“Okay. Love you, son.”
“Love you.” He hung up as the Uber driver navigated the L.A. streets before stopping in front of the studio.
He pulled his hat low on his head as he entered the studio and walked back to the door he’d been entering too often. Marco wasn’t the only man waiting for him.
Mr. Snyder stood as soon as Dax shut the door.
“You’re late.” Marco gave him a quizzical look. “You’re never late.”
Dax shrugged and stuck a hand out to Mr. Snyder. “Can I ask what you’re doing here, sir?”
Mr. Snyder was the head of the entire label, and Dax tried to avoid contact with him. That was easier when Melanie was his publicist. Now that Devlin had become his publicist instead, Dax refused to meet with him again.
After shaking Dax’s hand, Mr. Snyder crossed his arms. “I wouldn’t have to come if you hadn’t already eaten up all the studio time we booked for you. You have half an album done. Do you know what that is?”
Dax shook his head.
“Not an album. That’s what.”
He knew why. Marco spent so much time fighting Dax on little changes and stating things like good is good enough. Dax shrugged. “Would have been easier if I could record from home.”
“Dax.” Mr. Snyder sent him a scowl. “Sit down.”
Dax perched on the arm of the couch.
The old man’s face softened, and it reminded Dax of his daughter. Melanie could be hard, demanding, but she always had a soft side for the Rockstars Anonymous group.
“Sir.” Dax sighed. “Have I ever not finished an album?”
