Page 41

An asshole-free zone

Sophie

I wasn’t sure why Remy needed a break, but since he left just before the team went on a road trip, Ollie had to be part of it.

What had Ollie done? There was no official word of a trade or anything else involving Remy, but who knew what might have been said in private?

I was sure there was a lot that went on that the public had no knowledge of.

I was tempted to call my ex, but I wanted to talk to Remy first. Maybe he was pulling away from me to protect his career.

Maybe I wasn’t worth the gamble. Could I fault him for that?

I’d said it was just casual, so why would he keep this thing going if he thought it would cost him hockey?

I texted him but didn’t get an answer. Feeling restless, I drove to Diane’s to finish the last steps on my guitar.

I was pleased with it. I could see things I’d change, improve in another attempt, but it was a good effort.

“Strings today?” Diane asked when I arrived at the store.

“I think it’s time.” I was nervous, though the pressure I felt was mostly from me. No one was perfect with their first or second build.

Diane brought out my guitar from the back, and I grabbed a package of the brand of strings I preferred.

She encouraged me. “You’ve got this.”

My hands were trembling as I strung it up. Then I started the tuning process. I set the tuner on the head of the guitar, and one by one got them vibrating correctly. E-A-D-G-B… I was finishing the last E when the door to the shop opened.

I blinked in confusion at seeing my father standing inside the doorway. For a moment my mind shot off at a tangent, wondering if Cash had told Dad I was building a guitar and he’d come to see it. Something in my chest gave a little lurch.

Diane turned to face him. “Ryder. This is a surprise.”

“Hi, Dad.”

Dad’s head turned to me and his brows lifted. “Sophie?”

That thing in my chest fell. Of course he hadn’t come to see my work. He had no idea I’d be here. I really knew better.

“Are you here to see your daughter?” Diane asked.

Dad shook his head. “No, I came to talk to you. Should I come back later?”

He frowned, and despite what he said showed no signs of leaving. When he glanced at me, I was obviously supposed to leave him to talk to Diane.

I set my guitar on the table, ready to slip out back to the office, but Diane put a hand on my shoulder. “Anything you want to discuss you can say in front of Sophie.”

Dad shot me another glance, but since Diane was keeping me in place, decided to ignore me. “I won’t bore you with polite chitchat. There’s a rumor going around that you’re considering closing up shop.”

I tensed. Had Cash told him? If so, how much?

“Why would that matter to you?” Diane asked.

Dad stepped up to the counter. “String Theory is an important part of the Austin music community. I hate to think of losing something this essential.”

“Important?” Diane asked.

Dad shrugged. “Is that because I’m not one of your clients? I went to Conrad when I first started out, and he’s always done well by me. But if he wasn’t available, you’d be the next luthier on my list.”

“How flattering.”

I wasn’t sure Dad caught the edge in her voice. Diane was not Ryder’s biggest fan. He was older, and conservative, and not welcoming to newcomers. The way he’d mostly ignored me hadn’t made her any fonder of him.

“You’re good. I’m happy to tell anyone.” Dad leaned against the counter, hands in his pockets.

“So are you here just to find out if your second-choice luthier will be around if Conrad isn’t available?”

He shook his head irritably. “A lot of people depend on you in this business. I was hoping, if you were thinking of closing up, to either convince you to keep on for the sake of the music community or to make sure there’s someone around to keep String Theory going.”

Diane’s arms crossed. “Not that this is really any of your business, but I’d like to clarify before the rumors go any further. Your gossip is partly correct. I am retiring, within the next couple of years. But I have a successor picked out and I’m working on getting her to agree to take over.”

Dad blinked for a moment. “Is she good? You’ve set a high bar for anyone who comes after you.”

“She is.”

“You’re sure?”

Diane’s eyes had narrowed to slits. “Is your skepticism because I’m using a female pronoun, or because you don’t think I can actually choose a competent luthier to take over?”

Dad paused for a moment, aware of the trap he could step in. “I guess I’m just asking if you decided gender was more important than skill.”

“Would you have asked that question if I’d said he instead of she?”

Dad wasn’t happy. “You’re trying to start a fight.”

“No, I’m actually trying to show you that you think men are inherently better luthiers, and that if I pick a female successor, I’m sacrificing ability to make some kind of point. I find that patronizing and insulting. I’ve had to fight against that mind-set all my life.”

Dad’s lips were pressed together. He did not like people questioning him.

Diane waited, but when he didn’t speak, continued.

“When I started to think about retirement, one person came to mind. Not because of her gender but because she has a gift for creating effective solutions for a variety of luthier issues. She has an excellent understanding of materials and how to use them. She also is good with interpersonal relations, so she’s not going to piss people off by being an asshole and claim it’s a result of being talented. ”

The first part of her speech warmed me, because even knowing she thought I could do the job, hearing her list what she saw as my qualifications made me proud. The last sentence had me biting my lip because it was a perfect encapsulation of Conrad.

“Who is this prodigy?” he asked, with an edge to his voice.

Diane shot a glance at me. “Sophie.”

The incredulous look he turned my way doused all those good feelings. “Sophie? My Sophie?”

“Not ‘your’ Sophie, but yes, your daughter. She apprenticed with me, you might remember. I know what she can do.”

Dad was glaring at Diane again. “You think she can fill your shoes? Someone who just plays with guitars for fun? Who’s gonna trust her with an expensive instrument, or to make a decent guitar?”

I knew that was what Dad thought, but damn, it hurt to hear.

“Maybe you should talk to your son, then. He wanted her to look at one of his instruments but she doesn’t have time right now. Because this isn’t just fun, for her or me. And since I try to make this shop an asshole-free zone, I’d appreciate it if you could leave now.”

I loved that Diane was supporting and defending me, but this was something I should be doing for myself. It was time to get over my need for my dad’s approval because it wasn’t coming.

I stood up and faced my father. “I’m a damned good luthier, Dad. I probably should have tried to make you see that, but you wrote me off a long time ago so I didn’t bother. I’ve been supporting myself from my work—even paid back the money from my trust that I used for school and to set up my shop.”

I picked up the instrument I’d made and held it out to him. “You want to test it? I made this guitar. Haven’t played it yet, so you can be the first. See what I can do.”

I held it out, hands trembling, but I was going to trust what I’d learned, what I’d been taught, and how hard I’d worked. Trust the support I’d been given by Diane, and Cash and Remy.

Dad examined the guitar, eyes narrowing. Damn, I hoped it was good. Just as I thought he’d give it a try, he turned his head to Diane.

“I’ll leave, then.”

And he was gone, while I stood with the instrument I’d made and he’d rejected.

Diane swore. “Sophie, he’s an asshole. Don’t let his opinion influence you.”

I set down the guitar. It was a beautiful instrument, but Dad wouldn’t even try it because of his prejudices.

“I always wondered if he’d ever be proud of me. And now I know he won’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m not talented or valuable.”

“Exactly.”

“Cash is supportive. Dad is not, but at the end of the day, fuck them both. They can do whatever the hell they want. I’m living my own life.”

“You go girl!” Diane grinned at me.

Time to put myself first. In my career, and my personal life. I was cutting out the dead weight and doing what was best for me. And I needed to know if a certain space-loving goalie was going to be dead weight or part of my foundation in the future.

Remy

It was late when we got back. Goober was waiting on the steps and Beast pulled over to greet her.

I smiled. Beast had gotten better this season.

He got along with some of the rescue dogs.

And Goober was now a friend. I’d been worried about Otts when I found out where I’d been signed, but in the end, no matter what happened at the trade deadline, this would be the best season of my career—and I’d only played a few games.

I carried our stuff up to the apartment, tired but not sure I could sleep. It didn’t take long to put things away since I hadn’t taken much. Goober came inside with us, and I had no issues with the two animals together so I locked up and went to bed with the two of them curled up near each other.

I tossed and turned but must have finally fallen asleep because a pounding on my door the next morning brought me back to consciousness. Beast started to bark, so I pulled on sweats and stumbled behind him to find out who was so insistent on getting my attention.

Sophie! I blinked, trying to make sense of what was going on. She’d never come without an invitation before, and never this early. Was something wrong? Fire? Cash hurt? Something with Otts? “Is everything okay?”

“No.” The word was clipped, angry. “It’s not.”

“What do you need?” I wasn’t sure what it was, but I’d help.

“I need you to get your head out of your ass.”

My jaw dropped, brain still not fully engaged. Goober slipped out the door, almost tripping me.