I tracked Dad as he headed for the office, bumping into Maya in the doorway. Until Dizzy played her last mix, it had been a good night. People were dancing and having fun. Nights like tonight almost make the daily grind worth it was what I had been thinking. But the look on Dad’s face had brought things to a crashing halt.
“Everything okay?” Donnie asked. He was standing at the back with Rudy. The two of them stood out in the crowd, thirty years older than everyone else. Like a couple of kind uncles, they’d come for Dizzy, not because they were into the music.
Trust Donnie to notice something was awry. There were too many people around to tell Donnie what I thought had happened. I brushed away his concerns. “Dizz probably got overwhelmed or something. Nerves,” I said with a shrug. But Donnie raised an eyebrow, seeing through my weak story.
Jeremy appeared by my side. “Can you help me set up?” he asked. “Dizzy took off.” And left all her gear on the table: headphones, vinyl, playlist, laptop — a big no-no for a DJ.
I couldn’t say anything to Jeremy about why Dizzy had left the turntables so quickly. In fact, I’d have to lie about it to him, too, if he asked. Make up a story about Dizzy not feeling good, or something. I followed him up to the front. It took a while to get his gear plugged in, untangling the cords and carting over his vinyl and laptop. Finally, when everything was how he wanted it, he slipped the headphones around his neck and checked the sound levels. “You good?” I asked. He nodded and dropped the needle on the first record.
I shouldered my way through to Dad’s office door, but it took a while because I knew too many people. Lots of back slaps and Hey, how are yous as I made my way across the store. A few people asked about Dizzy, curious to know how old she was and how long she’d been spinning. From the corner of my eye, I saw her burst out of the office and beeline for the upstairs. Maya caught up with her, but Dizzy left on her own, and Maya got folded back up into the crowd swelling toward the front as Jer’s set took off.
“Dizzy okay?” I asked Maya.
“Headache,” she said, pointing at her temple. She frowned and opened her mouth to ask something else, but I nodded agreeing with the lie and walked away quickly.
I opened the door and stepped inside the office. Dad was sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, head hanging to the floor. I shut the door behind me, locking it. The relative quiet was a relief. He ran a hand through his hair and looked up at me. “Did you know Dizzy was going to use those songs?”
I almost lied. The word no was on the tip of my tongue. “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t know she was going to, but I heard that mix before. I knew they were in there.”
Dad swore under his breath. “Sit down,” he said, abruptly. I did. The springs of the couch creaked under my weight as he stood up and went to the safe behind his desk. He pressed the buttons to open the combination. Cash from the register sat on the top, and underneath it, important papers: deeds to the store, our birth certificates, passports, tax and bank papers. He came back to the couch with a manila envelope and dropped it on my lap. It was addressed to the store and the return address was a law firm in New York. I looked at Dad, unsure of what to do with it. “Open it,” he said.
I pulled a thick stack of pages out, dated ten years ago. Dad’s signature was on the front. There was another one below.
Dad waited a minute before he spoke. “Remember that last time, when she came back?”
How could I forget? I nodded.
“I thought she wanted us back. Thought that was why she’d come.” He shook his head. “I remember how she looked at you when she was leaving. Tried to fool myself into thinking it was regret. That she wanted a fresh start with us.”
I looked at Dad, confused.
A pained look crossed his face. “Then, a few days later, I got this.” He pointed at the papers like they were filthy. “Wasn’t regret on her face. It was guilt. She knew what was coming.”
“What do they say?” I asked, thumbing through them. Pages and pages of legal mumbo jumbo.
“If I do anything to ‘jeopardize Georgia’s career,’ they’ll come after me. Sue me.”
It was hard to swallow. My mouth had gone dry. “Who will?”
“Record company, management. Her lawyers have it all written in there.”
“Is it legal?”
Dad shrugged. “Hell if I know. I didn’t have the money to check. Just signed the damn thing. Didn’t know what else to do. She didn’t want us in her life.” Agitated, he stood up and started pacing. “Tried to explain this to Dizzy. Those mixes she made with Georgia’s songs, they could be trouble.”
I raised my eyebrows at Dad. He usually let things roll off his back. Seeing his hands balled into fists and the furrow in his forehead meant he was worried.
“Georgia’s lawyers hear those songs, they might think I’m breaking this contract, trying to stir things up.”
“And then what? You think they’d come after you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just an empty threat.” But there was too much doubt in his words for me to be reassured.
“Does Dizzy know all this?”
“Not everything. Told her about the contract, but not what happens if we don’t follow it. She’s still a kid. Shit like this is hard enough for me to figure out.” He was right. It knocked the wind out of me to know the lengths Georgia would go to make sure we stayed buried in the past. It reminded me of The Elders of Warren and the Shadow Children. This village lived their whole lives underground, hidden from the world. We were the Shadow Children, to Georgia at least. In the end, it was the Shadow Children who rose up from the darkness to help the hero defeat the evil wizard. Not sure Georgia could be considered an evil wizard, but she’d sure as hell trapped us.
Jeremy’s set was reaching a crescendo. The walls reverberated with the beat of the music. “What are you going to do?”
Dad sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “Dizzy’s gotta stop with the mixes. I know it’s her way of working through things, but it’s a bad idea.”
I’d seen how Dizzy looked at the poster when she thought no one was watching, the way she’d been slaving over her mixes, determined to make them perfect. Dad didn’t know, but Dizzy’s songs had gained more listeners than I’d expected. A fifteen-year-old girl who could spin was fodder for the internet. People loved sharing stuff like that. And with DJ Erika as one of her biggest fans, her songs were gaining momentum. Telling her to pull them would be a bitter pill to swallow; she had to put on the brakes just when she was getting started.