The Influence(61)

It was a legitimate offer from Desperados, a club in Nogales. Monday through Thursday for three months, fifty bucks a night. Plus whatever tips they got. They could even sell merchandise! They didn’t have merchandise, but that was definitely something he needed to look into. He knew the money wasn’t much, but this was a real place. Dierks Bentley had played here on his way up. So had Trace Adkins. It was a launching pad, and that’s what he needed to stress when he talked to his dad.

Of course, that was going to be one tough conversation, which was why he’d already put it off twice. His dad had been acting like an even bigger asshole than usual since New Year’s Eve. He’d brought his holster to the party and, like everyone else, had shot off his guns at the stroke of midnight to celebrate the arrival of the new year. Bill suspected that his old man thought he’d been the one to actually kill the angel, which was why he’d been so ornery lately. Bill could use that in an argument against him, if necessary, and he was fully prepared to do so, even though it would probably piss off the old bastard even more.

The bus dropped off the cholo girls in front of the dirt drive that led to Mr. Holt’s ranch, then headed out to that crappy little farmhouse where Mitt Stevens lived, before taking him and Ray home. The two of them walked up the long driveway, past the corral to the house.

“What’s up with you?” Ray asked. “Why’re you so quiet? And why did you keep looking at that piece of paper all the way home?”

Bill stopped walking. He took the email out of his pocket, unfolded it and handed it to his brother. “We got an offer. Desperados in Nogales. They want to make us the house band!”

“Oh my God!” Ray grabbed the email, growing more excited as he read on.

“They need an answer by tomorrow, and I’m just trying to figure out how to tell Dad. Because this is a once-in-a-lifetime offer. We don’t take it, they’ll find someone else.”

“We’re taking it!”

“We’re gonna have to quit school.”

“Who gives a shit?”

“Dad will.”

“Yeah, but he’ll understand—”

“He won’t understand anything. He has no clue how these things work. This is either take-it-or-leave-it, and if we don’t step up, we’re spending the rest of our lives in Magdalena. This is the big time, dude. You know how many famous people started out at Desperados?” Bill took his email back and started walking again.

“We’ll just tell him. We won’t ask him. You’re seventeen; I’m sixteen. He can’t tell us what to do.”

Bill hoped his brother kept up that attitude. Because it wasn’t going to be that easy.

They walked up to the house and inside. As he’d expected, the old man was sitting on the couch, half-drunk and watching a judge show. He’d been avoiding the cattle since they’d started dying, since they’d turned. Bill was pretty sure his dad was afraid of the animals, which was why he spent most of his time hiding in the house. That gave Bill a psychological advantage, and having the upper hand made him feel brave. He dropped his backpack on the floor and motioned for Ray to follow him.

“Dad?” he said.

The old man did not even look up from the TV. “What?”

He’d decided the best way to bring it up was just to blurt it out. “Tumbleweed Connection was offered a gig. At a club in Nogales. We’re going to take it.”

Unconcern had changed into confusion, but at least his dad looked away from the television. “What?”

“Me and Ray are going to have to quit school. It’s a Monday through Thursday job, and it starts next week.”

“Not for you it don’t.” Their dad stood, and the look in his eye was mean.

“But Dad—” Ray started to say.

“Shut up, Ray. You two aren’t going, and that’s final.”

Bill stood his ground. “Yes we are,” he said. “This is a real opportunity. It could be our big chance. A lot of famous musicians started out at Desperados—”

“You’re not famous, and you’re not musicians, and you’re not going.”

“Yes we are,” Bill repeated, his face getting hot.

“Dad—” Ray began.

“I told you to shut up, Ray! This is between me and your brother.”

“He’s right,” Bill said. “It is between us, and I’m telling him that I’m making the decision that we are going to quit school and take that gig.”

“Not as long as you live in this house!”

“That’s the point. We’re not going to anymore.”