Grace Unplugged: A Novel (10 page)

“And Mossy thinks I’m better than my dad,” she continued as she stopped in the bedroom. “He’s told me that, like, ten times.”

“Uh-huh, so how long you think you’ll be there?”

“I don’t know.” Grace flopped back onto the bed. “Hopefully forever. I mean, not forever, but I guess however long it takes.”

“Okay,” Rachel sounded unusually subdued.

“What?” Grace demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just . . . well, you didn’t even say good-bye.”

“I already told you I’m sorry, Rach. But, seriously, if my dad had known, he would’ve killed me. I had to do it like this.” She sat up and looked around the small dismal room. “I know this is where I’m supposed to be. It’s incredible. Mossy already has shows planned and everything.”

“That . . . uh, that’s neat.”

“Neat?” Grace stood up and went to the window. Was that the best Rachel could do? She opened the drapes and looked out at the church again, staring blankly at the cross.

“What do you want me to say, Grace?” Rachel let out a long sigh. “You’ve always been amazing, but . . . I just . . . I didn’t expect it to happen like this.”

“Like
what?
”

“Like this! I mean are you even gonna call your parents?”

Grace couldn’t believe it—why was Rachel acting like this? Was she eighteen or eight? “Are you crazy? I call my parents, and Dad gives me the biggest lecture of my life. Why do you think I wanted outta there? Dad has to see that I can make it on my own.”

“And that will make everything okay, right?” Rachel’s tone dripped with skepticism.

“Look,” Grace said slowly. “I left a note. All right? They know where I am.”

“Not really. I mean your mom sounded really upset. Just let them hear your voice. Let them know you’re okay.”

“If it’s so important to you, why don’t you let them know?”

“I’m not their daughter, Grace. You are.”

“You know, Rach, I thought that you of all people would understand. I mean, I even had this crazy idea that you’d actually be happy for me.”

“I am, I guess.”

“You
guess
?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I think I do. You know what else I think?” Grace’s grip tightened on her phone. “I think you should move in with my parents and be the perfect daughter they always wanted.”

There was a long, silent pause now. Grace wondered if Rachel had hung up.

“Why are you acting like this?” Rachel finally asked in a hurt tone.

Grace felt guilty now. Why did she want to hurt Rachel like that? “Look, tell them I’m all right if you want to,
okay
? I gotta go.”

As he ripped the suitcase down from the top of the closet, Johnny knew what he had to do. He tossed the case onto the bed, zipped it open, and began throwing clothes in.

“What are you doing?” Michelle demanded when she walked into the hurricane of clothes that were flying around, some landing in the suitcase, most missing it.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He tossed a pair of jeans toward the case.

She picked up a T-shirt and proceeded to fold it neatly. Clearing the messy pile on the suitcase, she laid it flat and started to fold another. “You honestly think she’ll listen to you, Johnny?”

“I’m not going there to talk.” He tossed some socks onto the bed.

“What? Are you going to drag her back home? Kicking and screaming on the flight?”

“Maybe,” he growled as he tossed several pairs of boxers her direction.

“Johnny, think about what you’re doing!”

He came over and started shoving his clothes into the suitcase, trying to make it all fit, which was just not happening. “I don’t get you!” He stood up straight and shook his fist in the air. “You
like
what she’s done? You approve?”

“Of course not! But she’s eighteen! And maybe if you hadn’t been so hard on her, maybe none of this would’ve happened!”

Johnny just glared at her now. How could she say that? Taking Grace’s side in this? Blaming him for Grace’s rebellion? Did she blame him for Mossy’s betrayal as well? Luring her out there? Like all this was his fault? He picked up the mess of a suitcase and heaved it across the room where it hit the wall with a dull thud, then slid onto the ground in a heap of clothes. And now, it figured, Michelle was crying. Well, fine, let her cry. Maybe she would feel better when she was done. In the meantime he had other things to do.

He went down to his study and picked up his phone. He’d already called Mossy a dozen times and left as many angry messages. This time he planned to threaten Mossy with a lawsuit. Even if he didn’t have a legal leg to stand on, he might be able to put the fear of God into him. But to his surprise Mossy answered.

“It’s about time you picked up,” Johnny snapped at him. “I’ve just about had it with you and—”

“Hey, Johnny,” Moss said smooth as silk. “What’s up, man?”

Johnny took a deep breath. If he wanted Mossy’s cooperation, he would have to handle this differently. “I think you know what’s up,” Johnny said carefully.

“Sorry I’ve missed your calls,” Mossy told him. “It’s been busy here.”

“Look, Moss, this is wrong, and you know it.”

“What, Johnny?” Mossy sounded offended now. “What’s wrong?”

“My only kid. You rip her right out from under my nose.”

“Rip her from under your nose? Are you serious?”

Johnny was pacing now, back and forth like a caged tiger ready to go for blood. “I’m dead serious, Moss. You stole my baby, and I want her back. I’m coming after you, man.”

“Are you insane?” Mossy sounded indignant now. “I’m taking a chance on her. I came for you, remember? But you kicked me to the curb again. Just like you used to do.”

“Wait a minute!” He stopped pacing. “I honored every agreement we ever had. This had
nothing
to with that, and you know it!”

“Hey, I poured my life into you, man. Even when you fell apart, I stuck by you.”

“And I gave you my publishing!” Johnny was pacing again.

“I never asked for it. All I know is, after twenty years I come to you for one favor. And you. Said. No.”

Johnny wanted to hit something . . . or someone. “How can you do this to me, man?”

“Do what?”

“Steal my little girl.”

“Listen, Johnny, I’m not going to tell you this again. I did not steal anyone’s
little girl.
Your
adult
daughter, who happens to be brilliant, came to
me
. What did you expect me to do? Turn her away? Ignore her talent?”

“What do you mean she came to you? I don’t believe it. You cast out a line and pulled her in. I know you.”

“You don’t know—”

“You promised you’d make her a star, didn’t you? You told her she’d be living the big life and—”

“For your information, Johnny, your daughter came to me. When she saw you turn me down that day, her musician’s mind went to work. She made a demo of ‘Misunderstood,’ and she sent it to me. Naturally, she didn’t want you to know about any of this because, as you’ve just shown me today, you would’ve flipped out. Seems that Grace knows you a lot better than I do.”

Johnny sat down in his desk chair, trying to process this. Grace had approached Mossy, not the other way around.

“And just so you know, Johnny, Grace’s demo was brilliant. Everyone who’s seen it is totally taken with her. She’s got real star quality. So, really, it’s pretty simple. When plan A didn’t fly, I moved on to plan B. To be perfectly honest, I’m already liking it a lot better anyway.”

“Don’t do this, Mossy.” Johnny leaned forward on his desk, running his hands through his hair. Somehow he had to stop this machine, but he had no idea how. “She’s just a kid,” he said meekly.

“You know, your daughter has you pegged, man, she really does! I get this isn’t
your thing
anymore, but now you wanna kill her dream too? Listen, I got a new talent that starts gigging tomorrow, and I gotta lot of work to do before then.” He paused as if to let this sink into Johnny’s already throbbing head. “Give my love to Shelly.” Then the phone line went dead. Mossy had hung up on him.

Now Johnny did something that he hadn’t done in years. He cupped his head in his hands and he cried. Just like a broken little kid, he cried and cried. And then he did what he should’ve done right from the start, he humbled himself and asked for God’s help to untangle this mess.

Chapter 9

G
race knew this was her big night, her first gig in a real club. A Hollywood club. Her emotions were a gnarled ball of threads—excitement, fear, hopefulness, anxiety—all of it was twisted inside of her. “Just breathe,” Mossy said as he handed the keys to the parking lot valet. “You’re going to be fine.”

She looked down at the outfit she had sweated bullets over and hoped she got it right. First she’d wanted to dress older and had several outfits lined up that would’ve helped her pass for mid-twenties. But then she remembered how Mossy had told her just to wear whatever she was comfortable in. So she’d done that. And now she wasn’t sure she had made the right decision. In jeans and a flowing white blouse and vest, she didn’t exactly look like she was on her way to Sunday school, but she didn’t look like she was about to perform in an LA club either.

Grace could hear the bass thumping outside the club. She watched as several scantily dressed twenty-something women went inside, followed by a couple of guys in that same age range. Grace knew she didn’t fit in with this crowd . . . didn’t belong here. But she also knew this was how singers got started. Mossy had already told her that even her dad had paid his dues singing at clubs like this. Everyone did.

She braced herself as they went into the dimly lit club. Naturally the music was louder in here, and, to her disappointment, the band playing seemed substandard. Although that could work to her benefit too—if she was better than they were. However, she was unsure of why people were here. Wasn’t it primarily to dance? Did anyone really care whether the music was good or not?

“Get a feel for the room,” Mossy said loudly, to be heard over the music. “I’ll tell Tommy we’re here.”

Grace nodded, watching as Mossy went off in search of the club manager. She tried to act nonchalant as she watched the patrons interacting with one another. But the more she watched, the more it became crystal clear. People were here for two things—to drink and to hook up. Music was secondary. In fact, it probably would make no difference if a DJ was working this joint. She glanced across the room to see that Mossy was talking to a man that she figured was Tommy. The two seemed caught up in their own little world, and Mossy was completely oblivious that she was over here, practically having a panic attack as she cowered in the corner. Everything inside of her told her to run—run fast and don’t look back.

She glanced over her shoulder to see a man who appeared to be in his forties staring at her with way too much interest. Oh, great, had she managed to attract a stalker? Or perhaps it was an undercover cop who had figured out that she was underage. She felt her eyes growing wide as he came directly toward her. Running seemed ridiculous since she would probably be safer in here anyway.

“You must be Grace,” he said loudly.