Free Grace Unplugged: A Novel by Melody Carlson Page A

left Alabama in such a hurry. Anyway, I’m sure you need a chance to catch your breath. But keep your phone on. I’ll be in touch.”
    She thanked him again, and before he left, he reminded her to lock the door. He winked. “You’re not in Alabama anymore.”
    She did lock the door, and then she proceeded to examine everything in the apartment more closely, opening cupboards and closets. Just like Mossy had said, there was food in the kitchen. And the bathroom even had some essentials like soap and shampoo and toothpaste. The assistant had even thought to put hangers in the closet. She went from room to room, checking it all out. She couldn’t believe it—her own place. She took her time unpacking. And then she sat down to play guitar, hoping that being in this new place—with no one trying to control her—she would be able to write a song. She played and made notes and played some more. But the song, if there was a song, seemed to be stuck somewhere inside of her.
    “Doesn’t matter,” she told herself as she put her guitar away. “This is only my first day here. I have plenty of time.” And feeling celebratory, she pulled out her iPod and popped in her earbuds and, listening to a high-energy Renae Taylor song, she happily danced all around her apartment. If Renae couldn’t inspire her music, who could? Finally she was tired and decided to take a nap. After all, she’d only had about four hours sleep on the flight from Atlanta. But after about an hour of fidgeting on the couch, which was not as comfy as it looked, she felt too antsy to sleep.
    She sat up and looked at her watch. If it was two o’clock here, it was four in Alabama. Rachel would just be getting off work in the bookstore. Grace waited a few minutes, giving Rachel time to clock out and go outside to her car, and then she called.
    “Grace!” Rachel exclaimed. “Where are you?”
    “LA,” Grace said calmly.
    “What?”
    “I’m in Los Angeles. I’ve already been to Sapphire Music, had breakfast in Hollywood and now—”
    “But why? Why are you doing this? Don’t you realize your parents are frantic? They called me this morning, thinking that I knew all about it and—”
    “Sorry, Rach. I suspected they’d call you.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?” she demanded.
    “I purposely left you out of the loop because I knew you’d be the first one they called.”
    “But I’m your best friend . . . at least I thought I was.”
    “You are my best friend,” Grace insisted. “You are the first one I’ve called.” Now she told Rachel all about her cool new apartment. And, as she walked from room to room, she knew that she was painting a lot better picture than it really was, but why not? Like Mossy had said, this was just the beginning.
    “And Mossy thinks I’m better than my dad,” she continued as she stopped in the bedroom. “He’s told me that, like, ten times.”
    “Uh-huh, so how long you think you’ll be there?”
    “I don’t know.” Grace flopped back onto the bed. “Hopefully forever. I mean, not forever, but I guess however long it takes.”
    “Okay,” Rachel sounded unusually subdued.
    “What?” Grace demanded. “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing. I’m just . . . well, you didn’t even say good-bye.”
    “I already told you I’m sorry, Rach. But, seriously, if my dad had known, he would’ve killed me. I had to do it like this.” She sat up and looked around the small dismal room. “I know this is where I’m supposed to be. It’s incredible. Mossy already has shows planned and everything.”
    “That . . . uh, that’s neat.”
    “Neat?” Grace stood up and went to the window. Was that the best Rachel could do? She opened the drapes and looked out at the church again, staring blankly at the cross.
    “What do you want me to say, Grace?” Rachel let out a long sigh. “You’ve always been amazing, but . . . I just . . . I didn’t expect it to happen like this.”
    “Like what?