“My inheritance is conditional. Jack was so dead set on me becoming a recording artist and going on tour that he wrote this trip into his will. I won’t inherit a dime until I perform in every shithole he played at when he traveled from Chicago to LA to meet up with my uncle. Jack had just turned twenty-one and barely had a dollar to his name because my grandfather pissed away the family’s cash gambling. He played for gas money to get to LA, but unlike me, he loved performing. He thrived onstage, and he never gave up hope that one day I’d come to love it, too. Apparently he and my uncle Cal hatched a plan that if one of them kicked the bucket, I would fill in so that the Westfield Brothers could keep making records.”

“That’s why you call Rick,” Joy said.

“I have to check in with Rick before I go onstage and when I get off, yes. He wants me to confirm that I did it. He also calls the bar manager to verify. It’s embarrassing as shit.”

“But you forgot to call him the other night. What’s going to happen?” Worry threaded her voice.

“I don’t know. I suspect a lot of groveling might be involved.”

She frowned. “That car you were driving . . . it was your dad’s. He drove that car to LA.”

“And he never sold it. I have no idea why he kept it. The heap barely ran. He wrote into his will that I had to drive the same car and I couldn’t use my cell. He didn’t have one on his trip so why should I? I have to show Rick my phone bill to prove I didn’t use it.”

“That’s not cool.”

Dylan could think of a few stronger words to describe Jack’s conditions.

“I want that inheritance, Joy. I’m not greedy, but Chase and I don’t want to take out a loan or have silent investors.”

“You’re using the money to expand your label.”

He nodded. “I’m better at making stars than being one. I’m petrified of the stage, you know that. I might enjoy performing in front of an audience a little bit more than when I started this trip, but my fear has been with me my whole life. It isn’t going to disappear after a few small gigs in dive bars. But I went on this trip anyway, and I did what Jack demanded. You helped, too, did you know that?”

“Me?”

“You.” He risked touching her hair, tucking a loose tendril behind her ear. She didn’t flinch, and a sad smile touched his mouth.