He lets the door slam and Dixie ends her call.
She opens her mouth to speak but once again the back door opens and all I hear is cheering and indecipherable noise from inside.
“We won!” Dallas yells into the back alley while hitting the back door hard enough to bruise a few knuckles. “Holy shit, you two. Get the hell in here. We won! We’re officially being signed to Rock the Republic Records. We’re going on tour. Like next week! Get in here right now!”
He’s practically blasting off into outer space. “Slow down, Rocket Man,” I tell him. “Dix? Bluebird? You okay?” She’s stoic in the face of Dallas’s epic news. Not smiling. Not even blinking. “Dixie?”
Even Dallas has begun to look worried. “Dixie? Say something, please. We won.”
She blinks once, then stares at us as if we’re the ones who just returned to reality.
“That was Ashley. She had . . . news.”
Dallas and I wait silently for her to continue. Her eyes are shining but I can’t tell if they’re tears of joy or sadness.
“I’ve just been approved as Liam’s temporary guardian. Starting right now.”
31 | Dixie
NANA USED TO say when it rains, it pours. She had a lot of sayings, but that was one of her favorites. Probably because it was one hundred percent true.
Papa rephrased it a little less gently, something about the shit hitting the fan all at once.
I am certainly finding it to be a true sentiment if ever there was one.
Rock the Republic has been sympathetic to my situation inasmuch as they’ve allowed us to put off touring for several months while I figure out how to manage being a part of my band and Liam’s sole caregiver.
The truth is, though, I’m not the only one in love with Liam.
Dallas taught him how to play guitar and basketball.
Gavin taught him to play the drums.
Despite being an overworked and sleep-deprived brand-new mom, Robyn makes spaghetti every Thursday night because it’s Liam’s favorite.
Mrs. Lawson makes him cookies that he and Gavin openly admit are better than mine. And when I make brinner? Aka breakfast for dinner? They all show up. And not just for my biscuits.
Liam’s laughter, Liam’s smiles, they’re rare—but when they’re bestowed upon you, you can’t help but feel special, worthy, even.
We are a family, ragtag group we may be; we are a loving unit of living, breathing people who would do whatever it takes for one another. If that’s not family, I don’t know what is.
But we are a family that is out of time. Rock the Republic has been generous and genuinely supportive. But they have a tour to fill, vacant concert seats that they need folks to purchase tickets for, and a whole slew of other costs dependent upon me figuring out how to be both Liam’s guardian and the fiddle player and frequent vocalist in Leaving Amarillo.
I know Gavin has forced Dallas to back off on pushing me for an answer, but I also know that if I don’t give them one soon, our band will be replaced on the tour by Midnight Revival—an amazingly talented duo that has been blazing up the music scene.
This morning I have to meet with Ashley to discuss my options. Turns out, she’s not as much like Mandy Lantram as I initially believed. She’s not a succubus in designer business suits. What she and Gavin had was a mutual arrangement between two consenting adults and as much as I hate to admit it, I would’ve done the same thing in her position.
Sitting across from her, I’m thankful to realize that I truly have no animosity toward her. She has been helpful with Liam and hasn’t made a single pass at Gavin since we cleared things up in her office months ago.
“So I looked over everything,” she tells me while taking her seat at the desk and opening our file. “And you don’t have very many options, I’m afraid.”
I groan because this was pretty much what I expected to hear.