Chapter 23 - Lowyn

"So you think," Sassy says, "that my best bet is just puttin' out a record on my own dime? That's how the kids do it these days?"

"Well, some of them do vinyl. Most go the digital route. You know, SongTunes and such."

"Shouldn't I be doin' SongTunes?"

"Sassy, I'm not like… a record person. You said you'd give me the toys dirt cheap if I helped you plan a comeback. Of course you should do SongTunes. But I'm a vintage girl. Not only that, you're a vintage girl."

I think she might blush here because I called her a girl. But as a girl myself, I hope people never stop calling me a girl. Because inside, I'm still eight years old and I think that remindin' a girl that she's a ma'am now is just plain impolite.

"And the people who know you, Sassy," I continue, "they're vintage girls too."

"Hmm." She thinks about this thoughtfully for a moment.

Which gives me a moment to think about Grimm. And how I can't get a hold of Collin to check and make sure that Grimm didn't already find him and tell him something he really doesn't need to know.

"So you're thinking somethin' old-fashioned."

"Old-fashioned?" I pan my arms out wide to indicate my store. "In case you haven't noticed, Sassy, old-fashioned is in. I'm worth seventeen million dollars."

She puts a hand over her heart. "Shut. Up."

People are always surprised when they learn just how rich I am. And for sure, there are many out there who are worth a lot more than I am. But for a woman under thirty who did it all on hard work, fierce determination, and a few lucky breaks, it's quite a big deal.

"A lot of it comes from appraisals," I tell a stunned Sassy. "I do live online consults while people are at auctions or flea markets. They can make an appointment or can call me up spur of the moment and I'll tell them if it's a good deal or not."

"Well, who knew?" Sassy declares.

"Certainly not me. My friend, Jet Shadows, from the TV show? He's the one who told me about that. Said I'd make a killing. I don't know if I'd call it a killing, but I do have appointments Thursday through Sunday almost every weekend of the year. Not last weekend, of course. Revival opening and all. I also bought up the contents of a barn about eight years back and in that barn, buried under layers and layers of dirt and junk, were trunks, and trunks, and trunks filled with old-time concert posters. Framed in glass, even. Pristine condition. I'm talkin' Johnny Cash. The Beatles. The Rolling Stones."

"Wow." Sassy's eyes go big. "That was some find."

"It's the real reason I'm where I'm at. I still have a few. I keep them for a rainy day. Or a dry day, more likely. So anyway, my point is, you should target your old fans first. Then, after you get a little traction, you should release something new, and shiny, and digital."

"Do you think they'd let me play at the Revival?"

Now, I knew she was gonna ask me this. When a person is looking to make a deal, such as she is looking to make a deal, they want to leverage everything. I have a face that's on TV in reruns, I have one famous friend, I have a very popular antique store, and I have the Revival.

Normally, my answer to her question would be an immediate no. But she played me some of her music when I was at her house and it's kinda our thing. It's not country. Not in the modern sense. It's not even vintage like Loretta or Patsy. She is Carter family all the way. Folksy and bluegrassy—if that's a word. Not only does she play the banjo, but she can fiddle, for fuck's sake.

She's old-timey, for sure.

And we are nothing if not old-timey around here. So I'm gonna put a good word in for her.

"Now listen," I say. Sassy leans in, eager. "I can't promise anything and you should not get your hopes up, but I will speak to Jim Bob—he runs this town. And I will play him a song. And I will remind him that you could bring in new people. It would be a win-win. But we've never—and I do need you to understand this, Sassy—we've never had an outsider play music for us. The kids do all the music. It's always been that way."

She deflates a little.

"But I would not waste my time or potentially get your hopes up if I didn't think that Jim Bob would at least listen to it."

She lets out a breath. "That sounds fair." Then she sticks out her hand. "This is good enough for me."

We shake on it. And I make her a promise. "I'm a woman of my word. Thank you very much, Sassy. Those toys are… well, let's be honest here, they're a gold mine. But I will fulfill my end of this deal. I will pitch you to Jim Bob with my utmost sincerity and I don't know how it's going with the whole dognapping thing, but I'm pretty sure Collin and Amon are considering it."

Her whole face lights up. "Oh, thank you so much, Lowyn. I think meeting you has been the best thing that has ever happened to me." Which is a pretty big thing to say, considering who she is and what she's done in her life. "Do you want to come pick up the toys yourself? Or should I ship them?"

"I would be more than delighted to drive back down and spend the day with you and pack them up myself, if that's OK."

"Oh, I'd love that Lowyn. Thank you." She grabs my hand and shakes it again. "Now I'll get out of your hair. You let me know when you wanna come down and I'll clear my schedule."

"I will talk to Jim Bob this week and let you know by Friday."

She leaves, happy as can be.

But as soon as she's out the door, I've got my phone out and I'm calling Collin.

It goes straight to voicemail.

Shit. What could that mean? Did Grimm find him and start blabbin'? Is Collin already not talkin' to me?

I call Collin again, but this time I use the store phone so he can't recognize the number.

Straight to voicemail.

I call Amon. He picks up first ring. "Lowyn McBride. What can I do for you?"

"How'd you know it was me?"

"I know everything, Lowyn."

Thankfully, that's not true. Because if he did, he'd know why I am starting to feel a panic inside my chest. "Have you talked to Collin this morning? I've been trying to get a hold of him, but it goes straight to voicemail."

"Well, I haven't had a reason to get a hold of him. Hold on, let me try. Be right back."

He puts me on hold and I let out a breath.

A few seconds later, he's back. "Nope. Same thing here. Straight to voicemail. Weird. But we're going into Revenant later. I'm sure he'll pop up soon. And when he does, I'll tell him you were lookin' for him."

I let out a breath. "OK, thank you, Amon. Oh, and by the way, Sassy Lorraine was just here. I like her. A lot. Do you think you're gonna do that dognapping thing for her?"

"I was just fuckin' with the drones I ordered to plan that very escapade."

"You got more than one drone?"

"Oh, I bought a small army of those things." He laughs, then goes serious. "But don't tell Collin."

"Where are you boys getting all this money to hire those people, fix up all those houses, have a whole kennel of genius dogs, and buy a small army of drones, Amon Parrish?"

"Sorry, Low. That's all top-secret shit. I'll see ya later."

The call ends before I can say anything else. And now I'm not only wondering what kind of damage Grimm is gonna do to my new relationship, where the hell Collin is, and why Amon needs a small army of drones, but also where they are getting their funding from.

I know drones can be cheap. But I'm worldly enough to understand that those are not the kind of drones Amon is talking about. He certainly didn't buy a toy to airlift a chihuahua out of the Bahamas.

I let out a long sigh. Yesterday was so nice. Today is stressful.

And it's all stupid Grimm's fault.

Why can't he just leave me alone?

Just as I think that my phone buzzes in my hand and when I look down, the screen is lit up with a text message from Jim Bob, which reads: Come to my office right now. We need to talk.

Great. Just great.

I want to ignore this text. Pretend I didn't even see it.

But when you are a Disciple girl and Jim Bob Baptist summons you to his office, you had better get your ass over to his office.

"I'll be back in thirty," I call out to Rosie. "If Collin comes by, tell him to wait for me, please!"

"Sure thing," Rosie calls back.

And then, like it or not, I get my ass over to Jim Bob's office.