Don't Let the Music Die (The Storyhill Musicians Book 2)

by Annmarie Boyle

  Jess sighed out a long breath. “Wow. You’re being harsh.”

  Avery sighed. That was the soft version. She’d started with ‘it’s great,’ after all. She placed her hand on top of Jess’s. “No, I’m not. Today somebody made me realize one reason you keep living here and quitting jobs is because I’m making things too easy for you.”

  Jess’s mouth quirked up at the corners. “Could that person be a super fine singer once permanently attached to your side?”

  “Who said it is irrelevant.”

  “Uh, nope, very relevant. You are extremely stubborn and rarely listen to anyone. It was Matt, wasn’t it?”

  “This is about you, not me. Let’s get back to the plan. I’ll help you flesh some of this out.”

  Jess leaned forward and placed her chin in her hands, a smug smirk pulling at the corners of her lips. “Is he still sexy?”

  Still sexy. Still sweet. And annoyingly talented. Seems growing into a man had taken all his good qualities and amped them up. But it didn’t matter. If he ever found out the truth, he’d never forgive her.

  “Amy-Lynn? Has time been kind to him?”

  Avery fished out her phone and Googled ‘Matt Taylor, Storyhill.’ When a picture popped up, she enlarged it with her fingers and turned it toward her sister.

  “Whoa.” Her eyes widened and flashed up to Avery. “Whoa. Who’d have thought he could get even better looking.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “So you aren’t completely oblivious.”

  “Look at him.” Avery waved a hand at the phone. “I’m focused, not dead.”

  Jess tilted her head, assessing Avery. “You ever going to tell me why you broke up?”

  Avery squirmed in her chair. How did this conversation go from her sister’s plan to the last thing on the planet she wanted to talk about? “What’s your plan to secure not only a job, but a job you love?”

  “See,” Jess said, nodding knowingly, “stubborn.”

  “Again,” Avery said, rubbing her clavicle, “not about me.”

  “Never is.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you keep everything locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”

  “Unlike you, who shares every emotion that passes through you at every moment possible?”

  “Hey, I’m not the one who single-handedly supports the antacid industry.”

  This had gone far enough. “Do you want my help or not?”

  Jess rolled her eyes. “Fine. Yes. For item number one, I went to a career counselor this morning, and we talked through some job ideas. Things that I would enjoy, that could be like an apprenticeship until I’m in a place to finish my degree.”

  Avery’s gaze shifted from Jess’s list to her face. “You did?”

  “Yes. It might surprise you, but I do realize that I can’t support myself and Wyatt if I keep quitting jobs.”

  “Alright, but . . .”

  Jess’s phone blared, its signature ring tone cutting off Avery’s question. Jess flipped it over, her eyes widening.

  “I have to take this,” she said, sliding out of the banquette and retreating to the living room.

  Of course, she’d take a call. It was the perfect way to deflect Avery’s questions. She looked at her sister’s list of bullet points and massaged her temples. Jess was saying—and had written—all the right words, but could she trust that she’d follow through? She wanted to believe her. But history told a different story.

  A story Avery helped create.

  She walked to the sink and filled a water glass. She looked over her shoulder toward the living room, where she could hear Jess pacing thanks to the hundred-year-old wood floors. Avery had a choice. She could either keep enabling Jess or enthusiastically get behind her plan. It was clear which one needed to happen.

  Jess wandered back into the room, her eyes dazed. “Amy-Lynn,” she breathed out before sidling up behind her and wrapping her arms around Avery’s shoulders.

  “What’s going on?” Avery stilled in her sister’s arms. Jess was free with affection, but she usually saved it for Wyatt. Or Momma. Or anyone except Avery.

  “You will not believe this,” she said into Avery’s hair.

  “Mommy!” Wyatt yelled, cutting off Jess, the door banging open. He ran toward her and circled her knees with his chubby arms.

  How must that feel? To have someone love you unconditionally like that. Maybe if things had been different with Matt . . . She shook the thought from her head.

  “Hey baby,” Jess said to the toddler, “did you have fun at the park with Abuela?” She kissed the top of his dark brown curls. No one could deny that Wyatt looked far more like his father than any of the McWilliams. She couldn’t help but wonder if they were both destined for a lifetime of screwed up relationships.

  “Momma,” Jess said excitedly, “I’m glad you’re here. I was just about to tell Amy-Lynn my exciting news.”

  Momma dropped into the chair across from Avery. She smiled at her younger daughter, but Avery could see the strain around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. The time at the park with Wyatt had taken a toll on her. Maybe Avery should try to get home earlier so she could help more with Wyatt.

  Isabel moved her legs under the table, attempting to disguise the fact she was rubbing her knees, but Avery noticed. “What’s your exciting news, mi hija?”

  “I just got a phone call about a job application I dropped off this morning.”

  “That was fast,” Avery said, trying to hide the surprise in her voice.

  Jess bounced on the balls of her feet. “It is. It’s one of the jobs the career counselor helped me find! It’s for a Design Assistant and Showroom Coordinator for an interior design firm! It’s entry level, but the woman who called says she likes to hire apprentices and train them. I could do this without a college degree, and the pay is enough to help with the bills around here.”

  “Whoa, slow down,” Avery said. She didn’t want to crush Jess’s enthusiasm, but she’d seen it before and also saw how fast it disappeared. “You don’t have the job yet.”

  “I have a really good feeling about this one. And I think I’d be really good at it.”

  Avery tipped her head and twisted her lips. “Jess . . .”

  “Amy-Lynn,” her mother cut in, giving her a look that could only be translated one way: stop being such a rain cloud.

  Right. Just promised to ‘enthusiastically’ get behind Jess’s plan. That lasted all of three minutes. Apparently, it wasn’t only Jess’s habits that die hard.

  “Did the woman ask to set up an interview?” Isabel asked her younger daughter.

  “Yes!” Jess said, clapping her palms together. “She wants to meet with me tomorrow morning. Can you believe that?”

  “Mi hija, tomorrow morning is my doctor’s appointment. You promised to drive me,” Isabel said. “I can’t reschedule.”

  Jess turned to Avery.

  Avery shook her head. “Jess, no way. I host a LIVE show. It’s called the Avery Lind show. Can’t very well do the Avery Lind show without Avery Lind. You need to reschedule your interview. You promised Momma.”

  “I can take the bus,” her mother offered.

  “No, you can’t, Momma. One of the tests requires light sedation, remember? They won’t release you from the clinic without a designated driver. Jess needs to make good on her promise.”

  Avery rubbed her clavicle. Tough love was hard.

  Jess huffed. “What if Matt did the show? C’mon Amy-Lynn, the woman who called said this was the only time she had free for the next ten days. You want me to get a job, don’t you?”

  This was typical Jess. No thought for anyone but herself. “Yes, I want you to have a job. One you love. But Matt cannot carry the show.”

  “I bet Celeste would run a ‘best of’ show.” Jess nodded her head as if she did it long enough Avery would agree. “Please, please, please, big sister. I want to show you I can do this. I want you to be proud of m
e.”

  “Proud of you because you have a job interview, but not taking care of your mother?”

  Jess interlaced her fingers and stepped closer to Avery. “Just this once. Please, Amy-Lynn?”

  Clearly, Matt hadn’t cornered the market on puppy dog eyes. Jessica was equally talented in that department. Avery felt the guilt climbing her spine and settling in the spot at the base of her neck that never seemed to stop hurting. “We both know this is not just once. What about Wyatt?”

  “He can go with you?” Jessica winced, knowing this might be one thing too many. She stuck out her bottom lip and Avery caved, just like always.

  “I’ll call Celeste and get her take on this. She will not be thrilled. We literally just went national. At least it’s Friday and we don’t book guests on Fridays.”

  Jessica screamed and rounded the table, throwing her arms around Avery once more.

  “I haven’t said ‘yes.’”

  “But you will.”

  Of course she would. Momma and Jess were her responsibility, and she’d do whatever it took to help them.

  “I’ll go call Celeste.” She stood and walked to the kitchen counter where she’d dropped her phone. She turned back to her sister. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  Jess did a little shimmy. “I won’t.”

  Famous last words.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, Avery found herself in a waiting room holding a wiggly three-year-old. The motion did nothing to soothe her already churning stomach. Celeste hadn’t been happy to run a few ‘best of’ interviews from the previous year, but as Avery never asked for time off, she reluctantly agreed.

  And it wasn’t all bad. Being here meant getting Momma’s medical information right away, and that meant she could put together a plan for her care immediately.

  She’d streamed the show this morning before leaving for the clinic. Celeste and Ajay had run her interview with Carrie Harris. It was a good choice. Hopefully, the stations syndicating the show wouldn’t be too disappointed. The thought of losing even one of the hard-won syndicators made the butterflies in her stomach erupt into an entire zoo.

  She lifted Wyatt from her lap with shaking hands and settled him in the chair next to her. She handed him his tablet and he immediately stilled, his eyes glued to the bright colors and dancing lights.

  She checked the time on her phone. Two and a half hours down on the show, one and a half to go. She shouldn’t worry. She shouldn’t tune in. Ajay knew how to handle ‘best of’ shows. But she couldn’t resist.

  She laughed out loud. Open the dictionary to ‘micromanager’ and you’d likely find her picture. She might not be able to change it, but at least she knew it was an issue. And she could laugh about it.

  She checked on Wyatt and handed him a dish of Goldfish crackers. He dipped his fingers into the bowl without taking his eyes off the screen. Maybe he had gotten something from her—that level of focus was very familiar.

  She pulled her AirPods from her bag and called up the station website, clicking on the ‘Listen Now’ button. Commercial. She’d suggested a playlist (unnecessary) and a second interview. Her highest rated shows were as familiar as her own name.

  The commercial faded, and the show’s musical intro played. As soon as she heard her voice come through her earphones, she’d turn it off.

  She sat ramrod straight when it wasn’t her voice that came through the speakers. What the hell?

  “What the hell,” Wyatt mimicked. Oh my god, had she said that out loud?

  “Wyatt, honey, look at Tía. Those are not nice words. Do not say them again.”

  The toddler looked at her and shrugged and said, “Hell.”

  She rubbed her forehead and tried another tactic while trying to listen to Matt. “What are you watching, honey?”

  “Fucking Super Monsters.”

  Okay, he’d not learned that word from her. She should admonish him, but she had more pressing issues than her foulmouthed nephew.

  She swiped over to her text app and typed Why is Matt talking????? to Ajay as she heard Matt announce he would interview songwriting royalty Grace O’Connor in the next hour.

  A text popped up. He pitched the O’Connor interview idea to Celeste, and she ran with it. Don’t freak out. He’s doing a great job.

  A great job taking my job? she texted back before she could stop herself. She did the deep breathing exercises designed to keep her anxiety at bay. Her heart rate seemed steady, but her stomach churned.

  He’s not taking your job, love. In fact, if he sucked up to you any further, sugar would drip from the microphone.

  Matt was praising her? Again. What. The. Hell.

  Ajay texted again. Relax. And listen. You’ve no worries.

  “Potty,” Wyatt demanded, pulling on her sleeve.

  That’s one word for it.

  Wyatt pulled on the hem of her shirt. “Potty now, Tía!”

  She didn’t know a lot about toddlers, but she knew enough to know you didn’t mess with bathroom requests. She lowered the volume of her headphones and shuffled Wyatt off to the restroom.

  She opened the door to the stall as Matt introduced Grace O’Connor. Wyatt immediately flushed the toilet, drowning out Matt’s introduction. A flushing toilet felt like an apt metaphor for her career right about now. Why had she let Jess talk her into this?

  Wyatt reached for the silver lever again, but Avery caught his chubby hand in hers. “Wyatt, honey, we don’t flush the toilet until after we go potty.”

  “Why?” He looked up at her while pulling down his shorts.

  Because I’m no fun. “Because wasting water is for chumps.”

  He giggled and lifted his arms in the universal symbol for ‘up.’

  She settled Wyatt on the toilet as Matt said, “I met Grace O’Connor when she and Storyhill’s bass, Andrew Hayes, wrote our latest album.”

  The interview continued smooth as silk. Something bubbled in her stomach. Disappointment? No. She wanted her show to succeed—at all costs. But a tiny part of her wished it wouldn’t be so easy for him.

  She had to work so hard. Things just came to him.

  Before she could work up a full belly of resentment, she heard her name echo through her headphones. Grace had asked Matt about her.

  “Yep, I’ve known Avery since we were sixteen. We went to the same high school and attended OU at the same time. Though we fell out of touch after college.”

  Fell out of touch. He was being kind. There was not a hint of anger or resentment in his voice. Both things she deserved.

  “Is that how you ended up with this gig?”

  Grace was also a skilled interviewer. She couldn’t help feeling unneeded.

  “Flush now, Tía?”

  Avery snorted. Yes. Flush now. Flush it all.

  Except she really wanted to hear how Matt answered Grace’s question. “You go wash your hands. Use the stepstool. And I’ll flush.”

  She missed the first few words. “. . . we’d fallen out of touch. It was happenstance. But I must admit it’s been amazing to drop back into her life and witness all she’s accomplished. Did you know that only about thirty percent of solo radio hosts are women?”

  “Making her story even more impressive,” Grace said.

  “Right?” Matt said. “She’s just over thirty—whoops, maybe shouldn’t have announced that,” he said, laughing. “And she has a nationally syndicated show and three Marconi Awards.”

  “When you knew her at sixteen, did you see all this happening for her?”

  When did this interview digress from Grace O’Connor Grammy award-winning songwriter to the history of Avery Lind? She grabbed Wyatt’s hand, leading him out of the bathroom and willing Ajay to redirect the interview.

  “I did.”

  He did?

  “She was always the most driven and composed person I’d ever met. I think the two of you would hit it off. You have a lot of similar traits.”

  “Well, maybe we�
�ll get to meet sometime soon,” Grace said.

  “Maybe,” Matt echoed. “I’m getting the wrap-up sign from Ajay. Thanks for joining us today, Grace. Avery will be back on Monday. This is Matt Taylor signing off, leaving you with a few of Avery’s favorite songs from the past few years.”

  He knew her favorite songs? Oh. Right. The music list she’d provided.

  “Mi hija?”

  Avery jumped at the sound of her mother’s voice. She glanced to her left. Wyatt had clambered back into the waiting room chair and had rebooted his cartoons.

  She pulled the AirPods from her ears. “Momma, they were supposed to come and get me when you were finished.” She pursed her lips and shot a look at the nurse standing behind the desk.

  Isabel chuckled. “No need for that look, Amy-Lynn. I didn’t need to be sedated after all.”

  “No?” Great. She took off work and let Matt Taylor take over for nothing. She shook her head. No, not nothing. It was important to be here for Momma.

  “Nope.” Her mother smiled. “The doctor held off on that test because she believes the disease is currently in remission.”

  Avery wrapped her arms around her mother. All thoughts of Matt and the show fading into the background. “That’s great news, Momma! See? Taking it easy has its rewards. I hope she told you not to push it just because things haven’t gotten worse.”

  Isabel smirked. “She did.”

  Avery’s eyes narrowed. “And will you listen? You’re not going back to your workaholic ways, right?”

  Isabel laughed. “That’s quite the question coming from you.”

  Avery joined in her mother’s laughter. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  Her mother nodded, her smile drooping. “I wish I could have passed on something else. You work too much, Amy-Lynn.”

  Avery’s eyes widened. “I love my job, Momma.”

  After a few moments of silence, her mother added, “I just hope you’re doing it for the right reasons.”