Thinking about her schedule had her sighing. She shouldn’t complain. At twenty-two, she had time and energy to burn to go without sleep and work hard.
Right when Avery opened the main door to go back out into the hallway, her father met her face-to-face, which startled her. She had hoped with the soundproof walls that he hadn’t heard her playing only moments ago.
“All done in here.” She smiled to ease his concern and keep the conversation going in a different direction. “I would say you don’t have to check behind me, but I know you.” Avery laughed.
“I should have had you do the business offices and I should have taken care of this area.”
Busted.
The relaxed feeling Avery had felt earlier behind the piano disappeared. She felt her shoulders tense up around her ears. She balled her hands into fists. When she realized the position of her hands, she shoved them in her pockets.
“I didn’t—” She had almost said she didn’t touch anything, but she couldn’t lie to her father…again. “I didn’t break anything. Everything in there is fine.”
Clinton nodded toward the bank of elevators. “I’ll check your work. Go put your cart away and wait for me downstairs.”
“Dad, do you want me to—”
He pointed. “Go.”
With a single word, her father reduced her to a trembling child again.
On the elevator ride down, Avery thought about the situation. Sure, she had made mistakes as a teenager. Who hadn’t? Since her breakup with Kenan, she had done everything she could to get in her parents’ good graces with one exception. She moved out and got her own apartment, despite her parents wanting her to stay while she pursued her degree.
Avery realized years ago that she needed to take some responsibility in her life. She no longer needed to feel shame for her past mistakes. She worked hard. She earned her own money and paid her own bills. She hadn’t had a serious relationship in six years. She needed to be cut some slack.
She secured her cart in the storage closet on the lower level. Avery removed her coveralls and hung them on the crook of her arm to take home and wash. She tried making the garment smell like something other than bleach and ammonia.
Avery had her arguments ready in her head by the time she heard the elevator doors ding and she saw her father coming out of the darkened location. The sounds of the wheels going over the tile floors echoed off the walls until he got to Avery at the closet.
She took a deep breath before she prepared to tell her father to respect and understand her. Despite past mistakes, she could be trusted. Even though she had her eye on a more professional career, that didn’t stop her other loves.
“Dad, I—”
Clinton cut her off. “You want to sing? You can do it in church. You are still going, aren’t you?” He shoved the cart in the closet and locked the door before he closed it. “You move out and we don’t see you there anymore.” He placed his fists on his hips. “This life, the one you desire that involves music, will only break your heart. It’s not a business that can guarantee you’ll get to eat every day or have a roof over your head.” He held her shoulders, which made her gasp. “Promise me that you won’t think about pursuing a life in music.” He shook his head. “I’m not saying you can’t sing. We both know that God blessed you with a voice. This life is something you don’t need.”
Avery had so much to say. She hated feeling suppressed and raised on fear and regret.
“Promise me,” Clinton said again.
She swallowed. Every argument she had running around in her head disappeared. “I promise.”
So did her dreams.
Chapter 2
“Lazarus, are you listening to me?”
Never a good thing when Dad used his full first name. No one, not even his mother, still called him Lazarus. That got his attention. In order to keep his schedule, he would have to treat his father like he had taught him to treat the women he dated, think about something else while acting like he cared.
“Listening, Pop.” Laz whipped off the towel he had around his waist and hung it over the shower rod.
Laz flew from one side of his small Brooklyn apartment to the other to pack items into a couple of suitcases. As much as he didn’t want to ignore his father, Laz had too much to do in a short amount of time. Thankfully, he did this call on speakerphone instead of Facetime.
Laz’s father snickered. “Doesn’t sound like you’re listening to me.”
“Really? What do you think I’m doing?” Not that Laz cared.
Running around naked only made sense until he finished packing. Laz had a game plan, although it did seem like his dad had some sort of sixth sense to know when he had lost his job. He hadn’t told his nosy sisters, who, even though they didn’t live with either parent, still felt the childish need to run to them with all news, particularly about him.
“You’re not answering me.” Bradley Kyson would not be ignored.
So that Laz’s frantic movements didn’t translate through his voice, he stopped for a moment to address his father. “I did. I’m traveling. I’m packing up right now.”
“You’re leaving New York?” Bradley’s voice reminded Laz of some excited kid. “Coming down to D.C.?”
Thankfully Bradley couldn’t see Laz and watch his son roll his eyes. Laz knew exactly why his father wanted him to visit. It had nothing to do with wanting to see his only son.
“Yes, I’m leaving New York. No, I won’t be stopping to come to your home.” Laz had work to do if he wanted to keep his name relevant in the music industry. Kat and Zinner wouldn’t derail him from his goals.
“You know you can stop here even if you just spend the night.” Bradley chuckled, but it came out like a lecherous growl. The man stayed on the prowl.
“Yeah, yeah.” He grabbed a few suits from his compact closet and piled them on his bed.
Bradley cleared his throat.
“Yes, sir.” Laz ran his hand over his still damp hair. Even through his haste, he had to remember his manners, especially with his parents.
“Where are you going this time? You’re traveling for work, right?” The lightness started to return to Bradley’s tone.
Laz hated lying to anyone, especially to his dad. “I am traveling for work. I’m going to meet with a record company here in town, and then I’m going to hit some open mics down the east coast, looking for talent.”
Bradley snorted. “You’re searching for talent? Why do that when you have it in spades? You didn’t give up playing piano, did you? I hope you didn’t waste all those lessons.”
Laz felt the same uncomfortable churning in his gut that he used to get afflicted with after each lesson when he knew his parents wanted a show.
“I still tickle the ivories now and then.” Laz glanced at the small piano in the short hallway in front of his door. He managed to find it in halfway good condition at a flea market.
After some tuning and dragging it up two flights of stairs, he used the instrument to wind himself down each night. Luckily, he had neighbors who didn’t mind his mini nightly concerts.
“And you still sing.”
With that statement, Laz had to stop in his tracks when he suddenly felt lightheaded, as though a stadium full of people stood by to watch him play and sing in the buff. He took