Liam, leaning forward, asked, “Who is Figfrin Hancock?”

Wondering what the hell Liam was talking about, I looked at the CD case. Sure as shit, written in bold Sharpie across the CD were the words “Figfrin Hancock Demo.” What the fuck? “The idiot producer spelled it wrong, is all.”

Liam snorted. “Wow, if he can’t even get your name right, I can’t wait to hear this.”

Drilling holes into him with my eyes, I opened the case and popped out the CD. My stomach felt like I’d eaten a questionable taco from an even more questionable food truck. If I had antacids, I’d be downing them like candy. It made me wish I had a drink in my hand. Or several. Please let this be good.

The CD started to play, but oddly, what was coming out of the stereo wasn’t music. It was me complaining to the producer. “Is it going? I can’t hear the music. Should I be able to hear the music? Or am I supposed to fucking guess where we’re at in the song. Oh, wait…here we go. I hear it now. Let’s do this shit!” Then a hard-driving beat started. Weird that he’d kept that in, but oh well, I guess it worked. What didn’t work was the fact that I came in late. Even I could hear that I was a beat behind the rhythm. Chelsey and Mom had their eyebrows bunched, like they knew something was off. What the hell? I thought maybe it would correct when it got to the rapping section, but it didn’t. If anything, it was even more off.

Liam went into a fit of laughter during my rap montage. “Wait…are you rapping about deli meats? Oh my God, you are.”

Annoyed, I pressed the skip button. The next song was a ballad. Those were popular and impossible to mess up, so I felt better about the odds of it being good. Until I heard my voice. “What the fuck is wrong with this piece of junk?” I asked, examining the stereo for some lever that was adjusted wrong. My voice sounded like I was a robot singing through a tin can who couldn’t hold a note to save his life.

“Um, babe,” Anna’s quiet voice said, “I don’t think it’s the stereo. I think that’s how it was recorded.”

“Damn it,” I muttered, hitting skip again. But every song just got worse and worse.

When it was over, the room was silent. Even the kids were staring, speechless. Chelsey cleared her throat. “Griffin, they weren’t all bad…maybe a few could be cleaned up or rerecorded…”

I ran my hands through my hair as icy panic flooded my veins. No. This was supposed to be epic. It was supposed to fix everything…not make everything worse. “I can’t. They’ve already gone to distribution. This is the final product, and I don’t have any money left to fix it anyway. I spent every dime I had on this, maxed out every credit card. I’m fucking broke! I’d have to take out another bank loan just to buy the matches to burn this shit!” I threw the empty CD case against the floor, cracking the frame and breaking the hinge.

Anna stood from her spot on the couch; her face was ghostly white. “What are you talking about, Griffin? What do you mean you spent every dime? You said you got a record deal.”

Feeling my heart start to pound, my head start to swim, I tried to swallow the icy lump of shame in my throat. It wouldn’t budge. There was no way she would be okay with what I’d done. Not now, when I had nothing good to show for it. I was fucked. We were fucked. And it was all my fault…

“I tried, Anna. I did everything I could think to do, but no label would take me. The only way I could do the album was to make it myself. And it was so goddamn expensive, so much more than I ever thought it would be, but I had to find money somewhere. I had to. I couldn’t leave it unfinished.” Because this was the only chance I had. And now it’s gone.

Anna started breathing heavier; she looked like she was on the verge of hyperventilating. I wanted to comfort her, but I knew touching her right now would not be a good idea. Behind her, Gibson was watching us with wide, scared eyes. Goddammit, I was hurting two of the people I cared about most. I wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go.

“You lied…again. You went behind my back…again. Why? Why would you do that? We’re supposed to be honest, Griffin! We’re supposed to talk things out!” Tears were welling in Anna’s eyes; the pain in them was killing me. I was such a fucking idiot. “You’re supposed to want to include me. You’re supposed to care.” The tears fell to her cheeks. Each one that dropped felt like a sledgehammer across my chest.

Gibson was crying now; Mom silently swept her from the room. “I do…I do care.” My voice came out weak and warbled. I hated it. I’d done all this for her…she just didn’t know that. “I didn’t have a choice, Anna. The album was the only way…” I paused to scrub my eyes; they were stinging so much I could barely see. “Everything was riding on this, and now…we’re so fucked.”

Swiping her cheeks dry, Anna asked, “How much do we owe, Griffin? How in debt are we?”

“Fifty,” I whispered. At least, that was where it was at the last time I looked.

Anna looked confused. “Fifty…dollars?”

Guilt, remorse, and fear welled up in me, making it impossible for me to look her in the eye. I should have told her. I should have talked with her. I shouldn’t have fucked this all up. I should have been honest from the start. Avoiding her gaze, I stared at the shattered case on the ground. Broken. Just like every single one of my dreams. “Fifty thousand,” I finally admitted.