No thanks. I’d rather flounder than subject myself to that. They could kiss my ass. If no label would take me, then I’d make my own. A spark of excitement burned away my moment of anxiety. Yes, that was exactly what I’d do—make my own label, make my own record.

Turning on my computer, I went through the online Yellow Pages and started finding people in the industry. By the time I’d contacted everyone I thought I might need, I had at least a dozen new people on my payroll. This was going to shrink my bank account so much faster than even Anna had anticipated, but it was a gamble that was going to work. It had to work.

But I would need money to get this started. A lot of money. Looking around my castle, I slowly came to a hard conclusion…Anna was right. It was time to downsize. I knew she would be on board with it, but I didn’t know how to tell her why I was suddenly agreeing to it. The truth seemed like my only option.

Well, a vague, hazy version of the truth. The longer I could keep her in the dark, the better.

That evening, I approached her after she put the girls down to bed. She could tell something was up by the look on my face. “What?” she asked, her voice tentative.

My palms were sweaty, and I kept wiping them on my jeans. Shit, I had no idea how she’d react to this. “I have a confession to make.” Fuck. I should just tell her everything. She deserved to know the truth—that she’d married a fucktard who messed everything up. She’d be so pissed though…she’d storm out and I’d never see her again. I couldn’t handle that possibility. No, I was in too deep to back out. All I could do was keep plowing forward and hope this album fixed all my fuckups.

Eyes wide, cheeks pale, she sat on the bed and put her hands in her lap. “Okay…what?” She stared at me with fear in her eyes, and I wondered what she thought I was going to say. Did she suspect the truth? Or did she think it was something as simple as cheating? I almost wished I could tell her I’d done something with another woman. Confessing that would be easier than confessing I was a lying, asshole failure. But no…I wasn’t confessing that tonight. I was delaying that information. Again.

“Uh…earlier today…when I tossed the phone across the room…it wasn’t nothing.” A sigh escaped me and bile started rising up my throat. I didn’t deserve her. “The studio called. They pushed the show back again. We’re not going on until next fall now…” Fuck. How deep was my hole now? Deep enough to bury myself in, I was sure.

Anna shot up off the bed. “What? Are you serious? Why the fuck would they do that?” She started pacing and wringing her hands together. “They’re not going to wait until next fall to pay you, are they? Because we can’t go that long, Griffin. We’re sinking here.”

If she only knew how much. “Yeah…they are. I guess it was in the contract, I just didn’t notice it. I don’t get the bulk of my pay until the show airs.” That sounded believable, like something I would do, and actually, with the full season stipulation in the contract, that was close to what I had done. I’d thrown my life away for an illusion. But I was getting it back now. Fuck, this had to work.

Anna turned to face me and fire was burning in her eyes now. “You didn’t notice? How could you not notice getting completely fucked over? This is absolutely ridiculous. Give me the phone, I’m calling Harold.” She stuck her hand out, but I ignored the gesture.

“I signed a contract, Anna…it’s already done.” The show is already over. “I’m sorry.” For all the lies I’m telling you right now. For everything.

Hands balling into fists, her voice trembled when she spoke. “Sorry? You’re sorry?” One finger uncurled to point at me; it was trembling in her anger. “You said this would work. You assured me that it would all be okay. I trusted you when you said we weren’t throwing away our livelihood for nothing!”

Raising my chin, I looked her in the eye. If I seemed confident, maybe it would convince her that things were still fine. “It wasn’t for nothing.” I hoped it wasn’t for nothing. No, I prayed it wasn’t for nothing.

The expression on her face shifted between panic, horror, and hope. “This is our future you’re playing around with, Griffin. Our future, and our daughters’ futures. We have to have a plan. What’s our plan?”

Sighing, I felt that weight on my chest grow even heavier. I could have sworn some ribs were cracking under the strain. “I can still make this work, Anna.” I think. “I just have to get some cash flow going while I wait for the show to start.”

“How?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

“Well…now that the show is all caught up on episodes and I have more time…” Lots of fucking time. “I was thinking about putting together an album.” I debated telling her that I was going to fully fund the album myself…tell her the truth in at least one area of my life, but the steel look in her green eyes warned me not to. I had to skirt around the truth, or I was going to lose my fragile hold on her. In as optimistic a voice I could, I tossed out, “I’ll get myself a record contract, so we’ll have enough money to keep us in the clear until next fall.” And hopefully by then I’ll be a household name and you’ll have forgotten all about the show.

Anna clamped her mouth together so firmly, her lips turned white. It took her a full minute to calm down enough to speak. “So…instead of going to back to the D-Bags in the interim, who still don’t have a bassist, by the way…you want to form your own band? Are you doing this just to show them up? Are you really that angry at them?”