Grace Unplugged: A Novel (24 page)

“I sure hope so.”

He sighed to remember how great Grace had done on the video. “She just blew me away, Shel. I mean I always knew she was good. But she is way beyond just good.”

“She had the best teacher,” Michelle said softly. “In every way.”

“You really think so?” He wasn’t so sure. In so many ways it seemed like he’d been too hard on his talented daughter.

“She didn’t learn to sing and play all by herself, Johnny. You gotta know that you had a lot to do, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I helped her a little.”

“A little?” Michelle frowned. “Johnny, you taught her everything she knows about music. You gave her the guitar and—”

“No doubt, some of it was learned. But a lot of it was already inside of her.” He gazed up at a photo of Grace on the mantle. “There’s no denying she’s naturally gifted.” He slowly shook his head. “God had a lot more to do with it than I did.”

Michelle smiled at him. “I find your humility very attractive.”

He grinned as he slipped his arm around her, pulling her close to him. “Come here.”

She snuggled close to him, letting out what sounded like a relieved sigh, and for several minutes they just held onto each other in a way they hadn’t done ever since Grace had left them.

“We’re gonna make it,” Michelle said quietly.

“Yeah, I think so. But not because of me.”

“Because of God,” she whispered.

Johnny sighed as he looked up at the ceiling. Then he took in a deep breath. Slowly releasing it, he could feel himself letting go. “Grace is Yours now,” he prayed aloud. “All Yours.” And he meant it.

Chapter 20

T
he next day Grace woke up crumpled on the living room floor. She was in the same spot she’d collapsed into the night before. Only now she was fully aware, and her head was throbbing, her ears were ringing, and her mouth felt like someone had shoved a dirty sock into it. The morning sun was streaking through the apartment, illuminating her slovenly housekeeping as well as the shattered glass shards still littered in front of the door. Lovely.

She was just pushing herself to her feet, her Converse shoes crunching on the glass shards, when she heard someone knocking on her door. Who could it be, and how could she get them to go away? She peered through the peephole, then frowned. Quentin. Of course. Mr. Do Good.

“What do you want?” she growled through the door.

“You all right?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” She injected some lilt into her voice. “What’s up?”

“That’s what I want to find out. I hear that you’ve been a little out of pocket lately. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” she growled.

“You don’t sound fine. And I know you’re not returning your calls.”

“I’ll get back to them when I can,” she said sharply.

“All right.” There was a pause, and she wondered if he’d left; but peeking through the peephole, she saw him still standing in the hall with a troubled expression. “Can I get you anything?” he asked hopefully. “Maybe something to eat?”

Her irritation melded into sadness now. Such a sweet and conscientious guy. If he knew what a mess she was, he’d probably run fast in the opposite direction. “No, I’m good,” she told him.

“Can I just come in and talk to you then? Just to make sure you’re really okay.”

Fighting her embarrassment over the state of her apartment, she slowly opened the door. “Come on in,” she mumbled, stepping through the glass shards. “Welcome to the nut hatch.”

He glanced around, then looked directly at her. “Have you been sick?”

“Something like that.”

“When was the last time you ate?” he asked with concern.

She shrugged.

“Well, you look like you could use a good meal. How about a cheeseburger?”

She grimaced. “No, thanks.”

“A taco?”

She shook her head.

“Let’s see what you’ve got in your fridge.” He headed for the kitchen, slowly telling her what her options were and finally emerging with a small carton of yogurt and the partially consumed baggie of cookies. “Come sit down,” he said as he led her to the dining table. “You eat and I’ll clean up this mess.”

As she sat there slowly eating the yogurt and nibbling on a cookie, Quentin got out the broom and dustpan. She watched as he carefully swept up the shards and took them to the kitchen. He picked up a few other things, then eventually came over to check on her. “Feeling better?”

“I guess,” she mumbled without looking up. It was humiliating to be seen like this—so needy and pathetic and lost.

“So you think you can make it over to Sapphire today?” he asked. “I know they want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said in a grouchy tone. “I’ll be there.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later then.”

As he let himself out, Grace stared at the baggie of half-eaten cookies Quentin’s mother had been so kind to send to her, and Quentin was only trying to help. Why was she acting like such a troll? Tossing down her spoon, she sprang for the door and dashed down the corridor, calling out to Quentin.
“Wait!”

He turned to look at her. “Yeah?”

A neighbor peered curiously as Grace went past him. And she knew she must look hideous, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to catch Quentin.

“What’s wrong?” he asked with concerned eyes.

“I forgot to say
thank you
.” She paused, catching her breath. “And I wanted to know. Is your mom’s cooking really that bad?”

He made a funny expression. “You just ate some of the cookies, right?”

She made a wobbly smile, trying not to break into tears. “Yeah, I kind of liked ’em.”

He smiled with compassion, almost as if he understood her better than she’d imagined. Maybe better than she understood herself. “So you’ll come for dinner then?” he asked hopefully.

She nodded shyly.

“Cool. Tonight okay?”

“Sure.” She stepped back, suddenly feeling uncertain.

“See you at Sapphire,” he called cheerfully as she turned to hurry back to her trashed apartment. As she closed the door, she questioned herself—Why had she just done that? Simply because she was down and out and feeling lost? Did she really expect Quentin and his family would be able to help her? Rescue her? Offer to adopt her?

Even with the broken glass cleaned up, her apartment was filthy and smelly, and she couldn’t believe she’d let Quentin inside. She looked around the tiny space with total disgust and then realized that it was simply a reflection of her. However, there was no time to fix it now. She needed to focus on fixing herself first. At least good enough to make a decent appearance at Sapphire. If they were giving her the boot—and she expected they were—she could at least try to look respectable.

After starting Kendra’s hangover remedy, Grace got into the shower and attempted to wash the cobwebs out of her head. Then she took her time doing her hair and makeup and finally dressed in an attractive yet relatively conservative outfit. If one was about to get fired, best to show up looking conventional and sedate, or at least that was her plan.

She downed one more small glass of orange juice before she went out the door, nervously chewing several pieces of mint gum as she started her car. As she drove toward Sapphire, she rehearsed the apology speech she would make to them. She wasn’t exactly sure who “them” was, but at least she’d have a chance to say it to Mossy. She would confess in full that she had knowingly lied to him about her songwriting abilities. And she might even admit to having developed a bit of a drinking problem of late. She would lay all her ugly, embarrassing cards on the table.

As she entered Sapphire Music, going through security and then walking through the flashy lobby, she told herself to take it all in. This might be the last time she’d be able to do this. She paused to look at her own poster, shaking her head. Well, it was fun while it lasted. Okay, some of it was fun. A lot of it—maybe even most of it—was torture.

She rode up the elevator, practicing her lines in her head, but as the doors opened, she wondered why bother? If she was canned, she was canned. Why not just stop wasting everybody’s time and quietly leave? Tuck her tail between her legs and crawl out like the whipped puppy she knew she was?

But once she got into Mossy’s office, he didn’t have the look of a man about to kick his client to the curb. In fact, he seemed rather pleased with himself as she sat down across from him. “You look slightly better than you did yesterday,” he told her.

“Thanks . . . I guess.”

“You were a little hard to get a hold of yesterday.”

“So I heard.”

“Everything okay?”

She frowned.
Was he nuts?

“Sorry.” He gave her what seemed like a smug smile. “But you will probably be feeling better as soon as you hear the news.”

“What news?” She tilted her head to one side.

“The video . . .” He nodded. “It’s doing all right.”

“All right?” She studied him. “What does that mean?”

“It means it went viral, Gracie. It means we have one of the hottest videos on the web.”

Grace tried to absorb this. The video went viral?

“And it means if the building chart holds, ‘Misunderstood’ just hit the top twenty.”

“Airplay or downloads.”

“Both.”

She gave him a dejected nod as the truth of the moment slapped her in the face.

“That doesn’t make you happy?”

She shrugged. “I’m happy for you . . . and for Sapphire.”

“But you’re not happy for yourself?” He looked completely perplexed.

“It just makes it official,” she said slowly. “I’m a one-hit wonder just like my dad. Only it’s not even my own song. It’s
his
.”

“Yeah, I had a long talk with Larry about that.” He shuffled some papers in front of him. “And he decided that under the circumstances they don’t want a follow-up song.”

She sighed. Well, here it was, the final smackdown. She braced herself.

“Yep,” Mossy said resolutely. “They want a full album.”

Grace stared at him in confusion. Had she heard him wrong? “What?”

“He heard about your little meltdown, but I assured him you were fine.” Mossy smiled. “We record when you get back.”

“But . . . I don’t understand. What . . . ?”

“Grace, they have writers! Larry would’ve brought them in sooner, but you kept saying you had songs!”

She still didn’t completely get it. “I wanted to believe I could write songs,” she confessed. “But the truth is, I can’t. And I wouldn’t blame them for dropping me.”

“Drop you? Grace, aren’t you listening? We’re top twenty. Nobody’s dropping you. You just can’t write! Think about it, girl. Rhianna, Britney—they don’t write either. They sing. And that’s exactly what you’re gonna do.”

She was still trying to process this—they weren’t giving her the boot? They were letting her make an album? With someone else’s songs?

He slid a lyric sheet and a flash drive across his desk toward her. “This is your follow-up single. It’s called ‘One Fast Night’ and it’s brilliant. From one of Sapphire’s guys, Alan Hobbs.”

She picked them up, looking down at them in wonder. They were giving her another chance. It seemed too good to be true.

“Alan wrote it for Renae, but I talked Larry into giving it to you. Kills me we lose publishing, but I didn’t have much choice. I’ll have the rest of the songs when you get back. But learn this one on the road. Got it?” He peered at her.

“Yeah.” She nodded as it continued to sink in.

“And I did book Randall to shoot the album cover. You’re gonna have to trust me on that. He knows what sells.”

She was too surprised and overwhelmed to question him.

“Hey, this is big, Gracie.” He gave her a bright smile. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You just need to stay focused.” He pointed a finger at her. “Don’t fall apart like your dad.”

She promised him she would keep it together, thanking him several times before he shooed her away. “I’ve got work to do,” he said gruffly. “So do you.”

Still feeling dazed by this strange turn of events, Grace got into the elevator and was about to press the down button but suddenly remembered something . . . rather someone. Quentin. She had to undo something. It had been a mistake to agree to go to dinner at his house. She’d been feeling weak and beaten, and she’d still been seriously hung over. Surely he wouldn’t hold her to her commitment. She hit the up button, and as she rode the elevator up to the floor where she knew he worked, she prepared her excuses. Perhaps she would even begin by sharing her exciting news. She was just bursting out of the elevator when she nearly ran down the person coming in. Of course, it was Quentin.