Faking It by Cora Carmack

Author:Cora Carmack [Carmack, Cora]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9780062273260
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

20

Max

My phone rang so early the day after Thanksgiving that it should have been labeled cruel and unusual punishment. I reached out toward my nightstand, knocking off who knew what until my fingers finally closed around my phone.

“What?” I grumbled.

“Good morning, sweetie.”

Ugh . . . it was way too early for this.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Your father and I are at the airport. Our flight has been delayed.”

Oh no. If she said that they were going to stay even longer, I would go crazy. I had to get back to the band and back to work, and I had reached my crazy quota for the week.

“I’m sorry, Mom. There’s no chance they’ll cancel it, is there?”

“Oh, no, honey. Just something about the pilot’s plane being late the night before, so they’re required to give him so much rest. We’ll be back in Oklahoma by this evening.” Thank God. “But your father and I were talking, and we just wanted to tell you again how much we liked Cade.”

I was pretty sure that was already abundantly clear, thanks.

“You know, we’ve been worried about you. Your father and I had a lot of difficulty with your decision to drop out of college.” A lot was an understatement. I wouldn’t be surprised if they discussed having me committed as mentally unstable. “But we came around.” After a year of fighting, yeah. “We’ve been helping you pay your rent so you can afford to spend time doing your little music thing.” God, I was going to break out in hives if she called my career and lifelong dream a “little music thing” one more time. “It’s just . . . you’ve been here so long, and your father and I were starting to feel that perhaps it was time to face the facts and grow up.”

No. Please no. I was so close. I could feel it. The gig next weekend at The Fire was going to be huge for us. We were even doing a live recording of the set.

It wasn’t like they didn’t have plenty of money. They both had high-paying jobs, and the insurance money from Alex’s death had made our already wealthy household even wealthier. They gave me five hundred bucks a month to help pay my student loans from those pointless two years at UPenn that they’d been the ones to insist upon. You’d think when they were the ones pushing me to go to college, that they would have at least paid for it. But since they hadn’t helped Michael, they didn’t help me. Some bullshit about making my own way. Too bad it had only ever been their way.

Five hundred to them was nothing, and to me it was the difference between doing what I loved and dreaming about doing what I love. I just needed a little more time.

“What does that mean?” I asked. “You’re going to stop helping me? fingernails scrape in her owI wondered if ”

“Eventually, yes.” Shit. I was going to have to double my shifts at the Trestle.

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