by Kellen Hertz
“And Logan took it,” Portia finished.
Mrs. Everett nodded and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “The pharmacist alerted security, and a guard stopped him before he got out the door. Logan told the guard that his plan was to go get the money and come right back with it, but of course that’s no excuse. He was tired and worried about Jude and frustrated and he made a horrible decision.”
She shook her head, as if she still couldn’t quite believe what had happened. “Then the police called me to come and pick him up,” she said. “It looks like they may drop the shoplifting charge if he does some community service …” She trailed off and suddenly looked up at us with fierce eyes. “I just want to make sure y’all know that what Logan did isn’t who he is as a person. He’s better than that.”
“I know he is,” I replied firmly. I was actually a little relieved—Logan may have broken the law, but he was just trying to help his little brother.
The front door clicked open. Logan walked in holding a bag of groceries. He froze as soon as he saw Portia and me.
“What are they doing here?” he asked, his voice wavering.
“Portia and Tenney came to see how you’re doing, honey,” his mom said.
Portia nodded. “We’re sorry you’ve been going through a rough time.”
Logan turned bright red. “I’m fine,” he said gruffly.
As he started for the kitchen, I jumped up. “I’m really …” I began. I wanted to say I’m really glad you’re okay. But Logan had just been through something awful, and might not feel okay. So instead I said, “I’m really sorry you missed rehearsal.”
Logan gave me a hard look. “I have to put the groceries away,” he growled under his breath. He turned his back on me and went into the kitchen.
I stood there uncertainly. Logan seemed so angry—but why? I was a little afraid to talk to him, but I also felt like I had to talk to him. Portia gave me an encouraging nod. Tell him how you feel, her eyes seemed to say.
I took a deep breath and followed Logan into the kitchen.
He was unpacking groceries at the counter when I came in.
“Hey,” I said.
He glowered at me and folded up the paper grocery bag.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” I said. “I tried your cell a bazillion times yesterday.”
“Good for you,” Logan said, his voice as sharp as a razor. He whipped open a cabinet, shoved some soup cans onto a shelf, and slammed it closed.
“Why are you angry?” I asked.
Logan whirled around to face me, eyes blazing with suspicion.
“Did you tell Portia what I told you about my family?” he said accusingly.
“No,” I said, caught off guard.
Logan scoffed, and I bristled.
“I didn’t tell her anything,” I insisted.
“Then why is she here?” he demanded. “Why did she say that she was sorry I’ve been going through a rough time?”
“She’s here because you got arrested,” I hissed. I felt bad as soon as I said it. I knew rubbing Logan’s mistake in his face wasn’t going to make anything better.
I breathed in and out, trying to calm myself. “Logan, I’m sorry your family’s been having a hard time,” I said at last.
“Like you understand,” he muttered.
His words sliced me like a blade. “What does that mean?” I snapped.
Logan yanked a gallon of milk off the counter and put it in the fridge. “It means your family’s perfect, okay? You all play music together and your dad’s here and you’re really talented and you’ve never really had to struggle for anything,” he said. “I seriously doubt you understand anything I’ve been going through. And now you brought Portia here.” He took a long breath and threw me a sharp look. “I thought I could trust you.”
My jaw clenched as I fought to keep my temper from getting away from me. “I didn’t tell Portia anything,” I repeated, “because I didn’t know anything. You never trusted me enough to tell me what was going on. Maybe if you had, none of this would have happened!”
“Why, because you would have fixed everything?” Logan shot back.
“I could have helped,” I said.
“I don’t need your help!” he said, spitting out the words. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”
“Yes, you do, and your family does, too,” I insisted.
Logan’s lips trembled, but he just shrugged. I waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.
“Your mom told us everything—about your dad in Japan and your job at the hospital. Why didn’t you tell me what was really going on?” I asked.
He hesitated, gritting his teeth. “Because you would have treated me differently,” he finally said.
“That’s not true!” I replied.
“You can’t say that for sure,” he said. “I didn’t want you knowing that I was leaving rehearsal to go clean toilets at night. And that I didn’t write songs because I had to do laundry and dishes and put Jude to bed. I didn’t want it to affect the band.”
“But it did,” I said gently. “How can we be partners if you don’t let me in? Logan, we’re in this together.”
“I know!” Logan said, like that was the dumbest thing I’d ever said.
“You’re not acting like it!” I shot back, frustration making my voice rise. “What happens to your music career happens to mine, too. I might lose my deal with Mockingbird because of this, and that’s totally unfair.”
I paused. I knew I’d sounded selfish, and Logan looked hurt, but I didn’t care. It’s the truth, I thought. He needs to hear it.
“So that’s what you care about. Losing your record deal,” Logan said, shaking his head.
I struggled to keep my voice cool. “That’s not all I care about,” I replied, “but it’s part of it. Don’t you even care that Zane might cancel our contract?”
Logan’s ears turned bright red and his mouth clenched, but he said nothing. I blinked, aggravation rising in my chest.
“Aren’t you even going to apologize?” I asked.
“No,” he snapped. “I was doing what I needed to do for my family.”
“I know, but this isn’t just about you,” I said. “It affects our music and our future. You can’t pretend these things aren’t connected. We’re a team. I’m a part of your life now, too.”
“I never asked you to be a part of my life,” Logan shot back.
His words stung, and my face turned hot with embarrassment. For a second Logan looked like he regretted what he’d said, but he turned away quickly.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “If you feel that way then maybe we shouldn’t play together anymore.”
“Fine, if that’s what you want,” Logan said tersely. “I’ll tell Zane I’m done.”
It felt as if he’d pushed me as hard as he could. I leaned against the wall, my knees turning to jelly, and stared at Logan’s back. I wanted him to turn around so I could tell him, That’s not what I want. I want us to be partners who trust each other. I want us to get through this.
But he didn’t turn around. So I didn’t say it.
I felt like a ghost as I walked back to the living room, shadowy and fragile. Portia was talking to Mrs. Everett, but it was like they were a million miles away, on some far-off moon. When Logan appeared in the kitchen doorway, I looked at a wall instead of at his face because there was no way I was going to cry in front of him. I stood there waiting to leave, looking at nothing as my emotions swirled together until all I felt was lost.
“I can’t believe Logan actually quit yesterday,” Jaya said, her brown eyes wide and stunned.
“He did,” I said.
Holliday, who was sitting across the lunch table from us, exchanged a concerned glance with Jaya. “He’ll probably change his mind,” she said uncertainly.
It was exactly what Portia had said when I told her. Mom had said, “Give Logan some time,” and Dad had told me not to think about it until we talked to Zane. Bu
t Aubrey had almost cried when she heard, and Mason’s face had darkened into an angry storm cloud.
“It’s Logan’s loss,” he’d said, giving me a hug. “You don’t need him, anyway.”
I wasn’t sure if I believed that, but the day after my fight with Logan, I’d woken up sure of one thing: “Even if Logan wasn’t serious about quitting,” I told Jaya and Holliday, “after the way he acted, I don’t ever want to perform with him again.”
“Of course not!” Jaya said, putting a protective arm around me.
Holliday leaned her chin in her hand. “That’s too bad,” she said. “You guys sounded great together.”
“So what? He treated Tenney badly,” Jaya said, her voice rising in indignation.
“I know,” Holliday said slowly. “But it also sounds like he was embarrassed. I know that sometimes when I get upset or feel bad about myself, it comes out as anger, and I end up saying things I regret.”
Her blue eyes met mine. I knew she was thinking about all the times she’d been mean to me, before we were really friends. “I’m not saying it’s okay,” Holliday continued, “but I understand a bit why Logan might have acted how he did. Right now, you’re upset, but if you step back and think about it, you might feel that way, too.”
“Maybe,” I said doubtfully.
But Holliday’s suggestion stayed with me as we threw out our lunch trash. Throughout the afternoon, I thought back to my fight with Logan. I wasn’t proud of how I’d lost my temper with him. I couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way.
After school, my parents took me downtown to meet with Zane and Ellie Cale and find out whether I had a future at Mockingbird Records. The whole way there I was jittery, like I was sitting on a carpet of pins. I tried to clear my mind, but I kept hearing Zane’s voice telling me he was going to end my contract. By the time we settled ourselves on the wide leather couches in Zane’s office, I was a fragile bubble of emotion.
“Well, I spoke to Logan,” Zane said, rubbing his neck, “and he confirmed he’s quitting. I’m really sorry, Tenney.”
“Oh,” I said quickly. The tiny glimmer of hope I still had left for Tenney & Logan snuffed out inside me. I blinked, dazed. My brain felt like it was rolled in bubble wrap, but my heart was raw with sadness. I felt lost and afraid.
And I had no idea if Zane wanted to keep me on his label.
“What does this mean for me?” I asked Zane, my voice quavering. “Do you still want to work with me?”
“Are you kidding? Of course!” Zane said with a grin. “You’re very talented, Tenney,” he continued. “I’ve thought about it, and I believe we can reposition you as a solo act, possibly with a small backing band.”
For a moment my heart zinged with relief. But for some strange reason, I wasn’t as happy as I thought I’d be.
“What about the contract she signed with Logan?” Mom asked, frowning.
“I’ve already talked to our lawyers about drawing up a new recording contract for Tenney as a solo artist,” Ellie responded. “It’ll take a few days, but once you all sign off on it, the other contract with Logan will be automatically terminated. How does that sound, Tenney?”
“That sounds okay,” I replied uncertainly. “But what’s Logan going to do now?”
Zane hesitated. “I think he might take a break,” he said. “He made it clear that he doesn’t want to pursue a professional music career right now.”
“Oh,” I said. While a small part of me was excited that I was finally getting the solo recording contract I had always dreamed of, I mostly felt sad and even a little guilty that Logan had quit.
I think Mom could tell I was upset, because she put an arm around me. For a moment, my heart steadied.
Then I remembered something.
“What about our performance at Riff’s?” I asked. “Logan and I were supposed to open for Belle Starr next weekend. That’s not enough time to put together a great solo set.”
“We agree,” Ellie said reassuringly. “We’ll send our regrets. Belle will understand. And there will be plenty of big opportunities like that in the future.”
Zane nodded. “The most important thing right now is to focus on your music,” he told me. “As a start, I want you to go back through the set that you and Logan put together, play each song, and think about which ones you want to keep in your solo set,” he said. “Logan told me you could go ahead and keep playing the song you wrote together. What’s it called?”
“ ‘The Nerve,’ ” I replied.
“Right. Logan said it’s a good song, and he’d be happy if you performed it,” Zane said. “He said you could revise the lyrics if you want.”
A sour feeling rose in my stomach. It was nice of Logan to let me play the song, but somehow the idea of performing it without him made me feel even worse.
“You don’t have any upcoming gigs booked yet,” Zane finished. “So right now I’d just take a moment and think about what you want out of your musical career.”
I nodded, but inside I was still a puddle of mixed emotions.
Ellie gave me an encouraging smile. “I know this feels strange,” she said, “but try to think of it as an opportunity for you to move forward.”
But what if I’m scared to move forward without Logan? I thought.
As we walked to the door, all I could think of was Logan. Playing music was his dream, just like it was mine. I couldn’t believe he was giving all that up because of our fight.
“Did Logan tell you anything about why he quit?” I asked Zane.
Zane hesitated, then nodded. “He said he didn’t want to hold you back.”
I spent that night and much of the next day lost in my thoughts about Logan and our music and my future. I walked to Dad’s shop after school, did my homework, and surfed the Internet in the storeroom until Dad poked his head in.
“Aren’t you going to practice today?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. Normally I love playing guitar, but right now the idea made me uneasy. “I’m not sure how it will feel to play the songs without Logan,” I admitted.
“Well, sweetheart, it will probably feel a little uncomfortable,” Dad said gently. “But you’re going to have to face it sometime.”
He was right, of course. And I knew I should get to work on figuring out my solo set, as Zane had requested. I grabbed my songwriting journal from my bag and my guitar from behind the register and headed to the listening room.
As I closed the door, a memory flashed in my mind of the first time Logan and I played “The Nerve” all the way through while standing across from each other in this little room. It had felt like we could do anything, even fly. I’d been sure he’d felt the same way … and yet here I was now, alone.
I sat on a stool and leaned against the wood paneling, settling my guitar on my knees. I put my journal on the music stand in front of me, opening it to the page where I’d written the set list for our Cumberland Park performance.
I really didn’t want to play through each song. But I reminded myself that being a professional means practicing even when you don’t feel like it, so that was what I was going to do.
I started working through the set list. The first song was “Reach the Sky.” I’d originally written it as a solo, so I knew how it could be played that way. The next few numbers were tougher. Logan and I had worked hard to arrange each song with him on drums and me on guitar. As I listened to myself playing, I couldn’t help but shake my head. The melodies sounded fragile when performed alone. I could hear Logan’s absence. More than that, I could feel it—a drab, lonely emptiness that was worse than silence.
Just keep going, I told myself, moving to the next song, “Where You Are.” I played it all the way through without much joy. It didn’t sound bad exactly, but in my mind I kept hearing the way the music had sounded when Logan and I played it together.
I checked the next song on the list. “The Nerve.” It was a true duet, equal parts mine and Logan’s. Just thinking a
bout performing it without him felt wrong, even if he had given me permission to do it. How would I feel if he performed it without me? I wondered. I’d be angry and heartbroken for sure. But I’d promised Zane that I would try playing all the songs on my own. So, even though it made my heart hurt, I forced myself to start.
After only three measures, I had to stop.
I didn’t know how to play “The Nerve” without Logan, I realized, and more important, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to sing his lines about the things about me that annoyed him. And I didn’t want to sing the final chorus, when we express how great we are together. Playing it alone would just remind me how much better it sounded when Logan and I were performing together.
I put down my guitar and wrapped my arms around my knees. A tear slipped down my cheek. I wiped it away and reminded myself that I was working with an amazing producer on great music that I had written, with the promise of recording a possible solo album. I was on the verge of getting everything I’d always wanted.
But without Logan, everything felt wrong. Our duet felt broken without him and so did I. Why?
Because I’m still not ready to give up on him, I realized.
I wanted Logan to know that I still believed in our music. But how could I convince him to believe in us again? The last time I’d tried talking to him, it had ended beyond horribly.
As I drew in a sad breath, a lyric formed in my head. It was familiar and new at the same time, and it expressed exactly what I was feeling. I grabbed my pen and flipped my journal open to a blank page. I’d barely jotted down the lyric before a melody floated in behind it.