Under the Dusty Sky (Holloway Farms)

that knows I’m right but is so caught up in the show she doesn’t know who she is anymore. My dad wasn’t born rich. My dad built his studio with his hands. He built his name by hammering the streets and bars looking for bands, looking for nobody-musicians to record with his label. Sasha and I were born heirs, the spoiled recipients of my father’s hard work. Then he dies at forty-five years old. It just doesn’t seem fair.
    “ This is father’s legacy, Bentley. You just want to throw it away?”
    “ No, I want to give it to someone who will love it as much as he did. That someone is not me. Why is it so hard for you to understand that?”
    “ Because I love it that much. I don’t want to give it away.”
    “ Then buy it off me.” The words just sort of fall out.
    Her face goes white.
    “ Mother would never allow that.”
    “ Well when I turn twenty-one, I’m the sole owner and CEO of the company. So at that point, Mom can’t do anything about it. Wait it out for a few years and help me keep her out of the way, and then it’s yours. I’ll recommend when I get back that you be hired on as assistant to the acting CEO. That way, you’ll see exactly how it runs, and in a few years, you’ll be more than ready to take it over.”
    Julia brings our food, and Sasha picks at her plate of lettuce for a few moments.
    “ You’d do that?” Her voice is small, which I’m not used to, and it prompts me to reach across the table and take her hand.
    “ Of course I would. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner, actually.”
    Sasha lets out one of those girl squeals when they get excited, like the one Gracie let out while driving. That real genuine happy that has to come out somehow.
    My mind shifts to Gracie. What happened between us? What’s happening between us? What I said to her and what my sister said to me.
    I have to make things right with Gracie. I am who I am. I can’t help it. I need to reach her.
    “ But you have to do something for me first.”
    “ Anything, baby bro.”
    ***
    Lacy stands on her doorstep, arms crossed and one foot over the other, just like when she spoke with Gracie earlier today.
    “ You know her better than anyone, Lacy. I need your help, or it won’t be right.” I’m pleading, but I don’t care. I’m good at figuring out what girls need but not Gracie. Gracie has two distinct sides, and I need to fix it with both of them. I need to appease the untrusting, memory-obsessed side to get out the side I want to see. The real side.
    “ And why are you doing this, Bentley?” she asks softly, but her cheeks are flushed, and she tries to bite back a smile.
    “ Because I don’t think anyone ever has before, and if she wants me to be her first, I’d rather it be this.” I wink at Lacy, and her face falls, her cheeks deepening their blush. She really is the sweetest girl.
    “ You know?” Her voice is flat and controlled.
    I press my lips together and nod. “I’m a guy, not an idiot. You girls really need to give us a little credit sometimes.”
    This time Lacy does smile.
    “ So, you’ll help me, right?” I poke her arm, and she smiles wider.
    “ Yeah, I’ll help ya.”
    “ Perfect.”

CHAPTER 20
    Graceland
    It feels like I just fell asleep, in that place where dream and reality mix, but right now neither is the place I want to be. A soft knock on my door makes my body jerk awake and sit up. A shadow passes on the other side, cutting the moonlight and making my heart thud. I wipe my eyes, still wet with the tears that I couldn’t stop after Bentley brushed me off, after his sister gave me that little smirk like I was some dumb kid. After Lacy slapped me and told me she was done with me.
    Throwing the covers off, I walk to the door, curious as to who just knocked. Something soft but crinkly slides under my foot, and I bend down to pick it up. Paper.
    Under my bedside lamp, I let my eyes adjust to the new light before unfolding the note. The clock beside my lamp flashes. 11:45.
    I smooth the paper out on my lap and hold it under the light.
    I’m an asshole. I shouldn’t have done that. Please meet me at your spot. Wear your most perfect dress. Don’t be late.
    His name scrawled across the bottom of the page.
    I look up at the window. My face scrunches into confusion. My most perfect dress? Don’t be late?
    Orange light in the window catches my attention, and I hear Rasp’s hoarse whimper, the one he uses when he wants attention and isn’t getting