Daron's Guitar Chronicles Volume 12

1081 Scenario

(Chapter text restored, finally!)

"How's your mom?" Carynne asked, the next time we spoke on the phone.

I clutched the phone, trying to come up with an answer other than "dying of cancer." I mean, how are you supposed to answer that. I stammered, "Um, sleeping a lot–?"

"Oh, jeez, sorry. I just asked out of reflex." She made a self-exasperated sound. "Just tell me I'm being stupid next time."

"Why? You're doing a fine job of telling yourself." I chuckled. "How's things in the big city?"

"That's what I'm calling to talk to you about."

"I figured." It was morning, and I was in the room that Remo and Court had been sharing because Remo was making coffee and I wasn't going to resist an offer of coffee. I sat in a beam of sunlight right next to an HVAC unit built into the window, feeling like although I could tell myself what time it was, no matter when the sun or the clock said, it still felt like the middle of the night. "What's up?"

"If you have time today, I'd love to walk us through a series of conference calls. You and Ziggy's lawyers–we'd need him, too, for that–and Megastar–and maybe another lawyer call–and you, me, Barrett, and Ziggy."

"'If you have time,'" I repeated. "This is the thing. If Claire has time, I have time. If she crashes, I don't."

"Everyone understands that." She used her most reassuring voice. "If you gotta go, you gotta go. But can we at least try?"

I had no energy to protest with. "Sure. I'll get Ziggy up."

"I think Barrett already talked to him, or maybe he's talking to him right now. One sec." She put me on hold, then came quickly back. "Yeah. He's up. And he's up for it. I'll call you back with the conference call times."

"Okay." I hung up and closed my eyes.

The smell of coffee revived me. Remo set a large mug down on the counter next to me, then pulled up the stool across from me and sat down with his own mug.

He'd done something to the coffee with a flavored syrup and cream and I don't know what else. It was delicious as well as caffeinated. "Oh my god this is ambrosia compared to the burnt-ass stuff we've been drinking in the hospital."

He grunted agreement and sipped his. "Thought it'd be your cup of tea. To mix a metaphor."

"Mix me a metaphor like this anytime." Mine must've had more cream in it because it was cooler than his and I gulped mine down. "I'm going to need to be alert today."

"Something going on?" He gestured toward the cordless handset I'd set down on the table next to me.

"Yeah. Our whole management team is on fire about something regarding the lawsuits and also our relationship with our record company? Or something like that? But they're freaked out that we're stuck in the middle of nowhere and trying to make up for it by running up my long-distance bill."

Remo huffed. "Tennessee. Middle of nowhere."

I was about to say, well, it is.... when he went on.

"You know what we're in the middle of here? We're a stone's throw to two of the most vital, important points on the music map of the United States. Nashville and Memphis are ground zero for two of America's core genres, and I'm not even talking about bluegrass yet."

"Jeezus, Reem, don't scold me before I've even finished my fucking coffee."

"I didn't mean you, although if you agree with your 'management team' then that rant's for you, too," he grumbled.