My mother made the motion to move closer to me, but my father cut his eyes at her and she stayed put. He was fuming mad, and she knew how to pick her battles. She was sure to give him an earful later.
“It wasn’t so much that I chose to mess up,” I said. “It was more that I just didn’t care about anything.”
My father’s head sloped into his hands. I knew that would disappoint him most of all. The fact that I’d been handed opportunities and had squandered them. That’s not who he was or how he’d raised me. But sometimes you couldn’t be told something—you needed to be shown. By falling down on your own damn face and experiencing gut-wrenching emotions.
“I’ve finally figured out what I’m passionate about. What makes me truly feel alive. Happy,” I said, trying to meet my father’s gaze. “But I might need your help.”
The color had drained from my father’s face. He was on the verge of disowning me and I was asking for more help. Fuck.
“Only on the front end, as a loan,” I said. “I’ll pay back every cent.”
My father straightened up. That got his attention. I’d never had an actual proposal before.
“Go on,” he said, giving my mother a cursory glance. She seemed stunned into silence.
“I didn’t love living in Amsterdam,” I said. “But the experience did help me realize that I was good at something. Something I’d like to do as a career.”
“If this is about going on tour . . .” my father began, but this time Mom cut him off.
“Let him finish, echtgenoot.” That was the Dutch word for husband. But when my mother used it with my dad, it was as a term of endearment that meant something like my man, and he instantly softened.
“I . . .” I took a deep breath. “I want to start my own recording studio.”
Eyebrows raised, my father’s gaze flicked quickly to mine. My mother’s eyes were glassy and her hand tightened on my father’s shoulder.
“I’ve been told I’m a great sound man and, God, I . . . I love it.” The words rushed from my mouth, as emotions burst in my chest. “Taking a band’s music and creating . . . magic.”
My parents silently stared at me.
“I know you want me to finish school . . . and I can do that at the Music Conservatory here in town,” I said, to show them I’d done my research. “In the meantime, I want to start building my studio. I’ll need to rent a space and all the equipment. Johan even offered to spread the word with his American contacts.”
My dad no longer looked on the verge of rolling his eyes. He actually seemed impressed. “Where?”
“I scouted out a space in the Commons.” It was the same artsy part of town where Pure was located. “I made an appointment to see it in person.”
My father tapped his finger against his lips, as if thinking it through.
“I can still help around here if you need me,” I said. “You know, with your taste in music.”
My father cracked a smile. “Smartass.”
“Admit it, echtgenoot. You liked having your son around,” my mother said.
My father nodded. “Those acts you booked before you left town were impressive. Stuart said the crowd has changed a bit in the evenings. That’s a good thing.”
I smiled at the compliment, the tightness in my chest loosening.
“One more thing.” I shifted in my seat, feeling like I could finally breathe again. “I’d like to organize a benefit concert here for Micah.”
“Micah?” My father’s eyebrows bunched together.
“Sam’s grandson,” I said. I’d kept in contact with Micah while I was overseas. He’d download the links to cool music I’d text him. “They’re struggling with medical bills. I can bring in good acts and we could charge a cover—which would go directly to helping the family.”
In two strides my mother was in front of me and she threw her arms around me. “I’m so proud of you.”
My father came around his desk, and I stood to shake his hand. Then he gave me a few slaps on the back, which was his version of a hug. “Your mother and I will discuss what you’ve proposed. We’ll need to see some sort of a business plan.”
“Of course,” I said, backing away toward the door. I figured he’d treat this like a business proposition and I’d be ready for him. “I appreciate it, Dad.”
As I twisted the doorknob, I heard my mother’s voice. “Kai?”
I looked back at her. A sly smile draped her lips. “Are you gonna get the girl?”
I grinned. “I’m sure gonna try.”