Page 106 of Hard Rock Muse

33

Abby had been asleep by the time I got home later that evening, and she was already gone for class when I woke up at noon the next morning.

I let myself wallow in the messy sheets for about twenty minutes, replaying the previous days’ events over and over in my mind. Then I mentally slapped myself and forced my body to get up out of bed and into the shower.

I nearly teared up again at the scent of my vanilla shampoo, but steeled myself against the memories of Julian’s face buried in my hair. I wasn’t going to let myself fall down that hole of misery. I scrubbed at my face, washing away the last traces of mascara that had smudged under my eyes during the night.

When I stepped out of the shower and into the steamy bathroom, the mirror was fogged over. I wiped it with my hand.

The woman staring back at me was at once a stranger, but also familiar at the same time. My pink hair was hidden, wrapped up in a towel, and my face was free of any makeup. The only things that gave away my old piercings were small closed-over holes in my nose and eyebrow.

I looked like a brand new Everly. I looked like a fresh new start.

And I knew exactly what I was going to do with that start.

Mind made up, I got dressed, grabbed my bag, and drove across town.

Frank greeted me as I walked into Howell’s music store.

“Hey kid,” Frank called out from behind the counter as he rang up a customer. “Didn’t think I’d see you here again so soon. Thought you’d be too busy with your fancy new gig.”

“That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about,” I told Frank.

He handed the customer her bag and came around the counter to give me another big bear hug, like he always used to. Maybe it wasn’t strictly how an employer should treat an employee, but Frank was more like the cool older uncle than just a boss.

“Where’s that kid from last time?” I asked looking around and not seeing him.

Frank’s expression turned disgruntled.

“Fired him,” he grunted. “Couldn’t keep his hands out of the cash register, damn punk.”

“Yikes,” I winced.

“That’s my fourth in as many months,” Frank grumbled. “I’ve got another guy helping out, but he’s going to be taking off for school soon, so it’s not a long term solution.”

“Good help is hard to find,” I told him.

He snorted. “Sure is.”

“Actually…” It was the perfect segue. “I came here hoping to ask a favor.”

“Of course,” he said immediately. “Whatever you need.”

“A job.”

Frank blinked. “Job?”

“I spent so many years here as a teenager, it became my second home,” I explained. “I love music. I believe it can change the world. Whether I’m making it, performing it, or just selling instruments to help other people live out their dreams. I’ve rarely been as happy as I was when working here.”

“Being a rock star wasn’t enough to make you happy?” Frank asked, taken aback.

“It did, in a way,” I said. “But it also came with a lot of drama and heartache and—” I cut myself off, shaking my head. “I don’t want to get into it. But you said you’re thinking of retiring soon.” I gave him a hopeful little smile. “And you always used to joke about leaving me the shop in your will. I know it’s been a while since I last worked here, but I was hoping you’d give me a second chance.”

“Shit, kid, you kidding me?” Frank blurted out. “There’s no one else I’d trust with this place more than you. I’d never let some random punk kid take over everything I’d worked so hard for.”

“So…” I trailed off, anticipating his answer. “Is that a yes?”

“Hell yes that’s a yes.” Frank whooped and fist pumped. “Damn, and here I thought I’d have to work until I was a hundred years old.”