Grace Unplugged: A Novel (7 page)

The name Trey immediately caught his attention, and with trembling hand and a heart full of anticipation, he clicked on the e-mail. To his surprise, it wasn’t from Johnny at all. It was from Johnny’s pretty blonde daughter. Curious as to why the girl was writing to him, he quickly read the e-mail and was completely floored to learn that she wanted a chance to record her father’s one-hit wonder.

“Is it possible?” he said aloud as he grabbed his headphones, anxiously plugging them into the computer and opening her attachment. “Is it even possible?” A huge smile filled his face as he looked at the image of a girl who by all appearances had star quality. But then, when she started to sing, rocking out as she played guitar—and played it extremely well, he burst into laughter. Joyous laughter. “She’s got it,” he said to himself when he finally removed his headphones. “The little girl’s got it.” He read her name on the e-mail. “Grace Trey.” He shook his head in wonder. “I’ve been saved by Grace.”

By the time he marched into Larry’s posh office, Mossy was flying high. Not only did Grace Trey have real star potential; she was even better than her old man. His plan was to play this for Larry like it was his intention from the start. “Johnny Trey is yesterday’s news,” he announced to Larry and his associates. “The next generation is where it’s at. I’d like to introduce you to Grace Trey, Johnny Trey’s daughter.” Without further ado, Mossy hit “play.” And despite the fact that the girl had recorded this song from what appeared to be her own bedroom, the sound quality wasn’t too bad, and it took only moments for the Sapphire folks to see that she was really good.

“Good looking too,” Larry observed.

“Nice work, Mossy,” one of the associates told him.

“When can you get her in here for a recording session?” Larry asked. “The sooner we get that record rereleased, the better it’ll be for everyone, and I’m sure you know what I mean.”

“Let’s go over the contract details first,” Mossy told them. And knowing he had them in the palm of his hand, he specified what he felt his client needed, and he wasn’t afraid to push them a little. After all, that was his job. Besides, he wanted her to be comfortable and happy. And if this turned into more than a one-song deal, like he hoped, it would pay off. But even if it was just a single, having “Misunderstood” out there in the marketplace again wouldn’t hurt his bank account any.

“Can you get her in here by the end of the week—or early next week at the latest?” one of the associates asked.

“You get me an offer,” Mossy told them, “and I’ll get her in here.”

“Good work, Moss.” Larry gave him a fist bump as they were wrapping it up. “I’m guessing this’ll be way better than just a dusted-off Johnny Trey record. That little girl is marketable—as well as a name. We play it right, and we can make her a star.”

As Mossy walked down the hall to the elevators, he admired the sleekly framed music posters adorning the wall. He paused to imagine his new client’s pretty face right up there next to Renae Taylor. Heck, if this went the way he hoped it’d go, little Grace might be opening for Ms. Taylor before the year was up. Now all he had to do was get her signed. And since she was eighteen, he wasn’t too worried about Johnny interfering. Well, he was a little worried. But he knew that Grace was hungry for this—he’d seen that look before. Nothing was going to stop that little girl from chasing her dream. He was banking on it.

Chapter 6

G
race felt like she’d been walking a tightrope these past few days. Carefully gauging each step, guarding her thoughts, watching her words, trying to contain her excitement and trying to figure this thing out. And her behavior had not gone unnoticed by her parents either. Both of them had mentioned together and separately that she seemed more mature and reasonable lately. Oh, if only they knew.

Several times she had almost opened up to them. But each time Dad had blown it by saying something overly protective or judgmental or even joking at her expense. Sure, he was just being Dad, but if he had any idea how many times he’d shut her down, and she’d closed them out. . . . Well, it was probably better this way. This wasn’t the kind of thing she could expect them to be reasonable about. She knew her dad too well. And even though Mom would be hurt, she would understand in time.

By Sunday morning Grace knew it was high time to blow the lid off this thing. And she knew just the place to do it—and how. It wasn’t that she wanted to hurt her mom or embarrass her dad. She simply wanted him to back off and give her some space. Sometimes the only way to get space was to blast everything apart. Besides, she reassured herself as the band assembled on the stage, getting ready for worship, the congregation would probably appreciate this. Some of them might even thank her later. And it would give them a performance to remember her by.

So the worship began as usual, with everyone in their places just like they’d been at rehearsal, with her dad in front leading them—controlling their every move. And for the opening song, Grace did as she’d been told. But right before the second song began, she picked up her guitar, which she’d stashed behind an amp, and, quickly strapping it on while Dad was encouraging the congregation to really “get into” this next song, she plugged it in. By the time Dad started the song and happened to glance her direction, it was too late. The look on his face was priceless.

Really, Grace told herself, as she
got into it,
this song deserved this kind of attention. And she played and sang like she was rocking it in front of fans. And it seemed like most of the congregation got into it—almost like Dad had invited them to. As she watched their faces, she could see that some were a little uneasy, but the younger ones seemed grateful. As if she’d woken them up and given them a reason to clap and sing and worship God with real enthusiasm. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to be done?

She could see behind her Dad’s phony smile that he was smoldering as he played. And yet he kept his voice even after the song ended. He even made a joke about the apple not falling far from the tree—his daughter the rock star. The congregation laughed hard about that. Who would have the last laugh?

But as they started the next song, he gave her the look. And since this song really was meant to be a slow and thoughtful song, she toned it down. But she didn’t do it for Dad. She did it for the song and for the congregation. However, each time they did a lively song, Grace was back on guitar, singing and playing with abandon.

By the time the service ended, Grace wasn’t sure what was going on with Dad. In a way he seemed almost resolved. Like he was maybe giving in to her music and her style. Like maybe he was finally ready to give her a little space to breathe. And as they visited with members of the congregation—and she enjoyed the compliments they were giving her and Dad just smiled and laughed and joked—she started to feel truly hopeful. Dad was really coming around.

Even Pastor Tim caught her as she was going out. “That was surprisingly refreshing,” he said. Those were his exact words.

“Thanks, it was all my dad’s idea.”

As they walked out to the car, waving and greeting friends, Grace thought maybe they’d reached some new milestone in their relationship. Dad was finally cutting the puppet strings, finally letting her grow up and spread her wings musically.

Grace let out a little sigh of relief as Dad calmly started the engine. Mom was making the usual small talk about church and friends and what they would have for lunch today and then—just as the SUV was out on the street and a safe distance away from the church, Dad exploded. “What on earth do you think you were doing in there, Grace Rose Trey?”

“Singing?”

“Don’t get smart with me, young lady.”

“Dad, I was just—”

“You know you stepped over the line. Way over the line. And you don’t even care, do you?”

“Johnny.” Mom put her hand on his arm. “Let’s keep this calm.”

He barely nodded. “Yeah. Right. Calm.” He took in a deep breath. “So, tell me, what were you doing in there, Grace?”

“I was just trying to—”

“
Take over.
That’s what you wanted to do.” He hit his palm against the steering wheel. So much for calm. “You wanted to take over and turn our worship service into the
Grace Trey Concert.
You think the congregation is there to see you—Grace Trey, the big rock star. You think you’re the next Renae Taylor. Don’t pretend I’m wrong, Grace. I could see it in your eyes.”

“I don’t think you can see anything, Dad. Even when it’s right in your face.”

“Grace!” Mom’s voice had the edge of warning in it.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” she said angrily. “But it’s true. Dad is totally clueless when it comes to me and my music.”

“
Your
music?” He slowly shook his head. “When we lead worship, it’s God’s music, Grace. Don’t you get that?”

“I get that it’s
your
music, Dad. And anything I want to do differently is wrong. I get it.
All right?
”

“Grace, that’s
not
the point, and you know it!

“It was so much better than the boring thing we rehearsed and everybody
loved
it, Dad. Didn’t you see them?”

Dad was taking in a big breath now, like he was just getting ready to explode all over again.

“Grace,” Mom said gently as she placed her hand on Dad’s arm again, her signal for him to calm down. “Dad’s right. It’s not your call to make. Your dad is the worship leader. It’s his job to call the shots.”

“I know!” Grace slumped down in the seat, feeling like an eight-year-old again. “He’s said it a hundred times already.”

Now the car was silent, and Grace knew that her hope that Dad was finally letting her grow up was just an illusion. How could she have been so naïve? No one said anything, and after what seemed an eternity, Dad was finally pulling into their driveway. Grace was about to hop out as they waited for the garage door to go up, but Dad didn’t even push the button. “One more thing, Grace.” He got out of the car and came around to where she was getting out, looking her directly in the eyes. “How can you explain lying to Pastor Tim?”

“Lying?”

Dad nodded with a grim expression. “About the worship service. Why did you lie to him like that?”

“Come on,” Mom was saying as she hurried to the front door. “Let’s take this inside.”

Grace followed her, trying to remember exactly what she’d said to their pastor when he’d complimented her. Hadn’t she tried to give Dad the credit for the worship service? What was wrong with that?

Now they were standing in the entry of their house—a neat little triangle just inside the front door, where neighbors couldn’t see them.

Dad looked her in the eyes again, like he was trying to pry some lame confession from her. “Don’t tell me you didn’t do it, Grace. I was coming up right behind you, standing behind the door as you were talking. You told Pastor Tim it was
my
idea for you to switch tempo.”

“You were spying on me?” Now she felt outraged. When had her dad turned into such a dictator?

“No! I wasn’t spying on you. I was—”

“Why don’t you put one of those ankle things on me too! That way you can track me 24–7!”

“Don’t you dare try to spin it that way! You lied to the pastor’s
face
!”

“Yeah! And you used to get drunk and go to jail!” Grace was biting back tears now. But she didn’t want Dad to see her crying. Didn’t want him to think he’d gotten the best of her.

“You’re done,” he seethed. “You’re out of the band. And you can forget the album too.”

She glared at him, wondering how this monster could really be her father. “Good!” she shouted at him. “I don’t want to be on your stupid album anyway!”

As she turned to go to her room, she could hear Mom trying to calm him down. Mr. Worship Leader one minute and Monster Dad the next. What would Pastor Tim think if he could see them now?

She turned to look at them, wanting to get one final jab. “You know what, Dad?” she said in a challenging tone. “Even Pastor Tim liked what I did today. But I guess you didn’t
spy
on that part, did you?” Now she ran up to her room and slammed the door shut. She was tempted to jam her desk chair under the doorknob like they did in movies, but she knew that was pushing it. Besides it was just a matter of time until she was completely free of these shackles.