He’d thought about stopping for the night, but he’d been too keyed up to sleep. When he stepped into his apartment, he was surprised to see Dax laying on the couch. “Shouldn’t you be working?” Pete kicked off his boots and set them neatly on the rug inside the door. “Shouldn’t you?” Dax’s voice came out weak. “I’m working the afternoon shift. Need to get a few hours’ sleep. What’s up?” He plopped down on a recliner and shoved back, lifting his feet and laying nearly flat. “I thought I had a chance with her.” Dax rolled onto his side. “Another rejection?” “Yes, and it’s getting old.” Dax wrote songs. Country songs. More than half of them for women to sing. He took a lot of grief from his friends, but he’d do just about anything to break into Nashville. “You can’t give up.” Pete yawned and let his eyes drift shut. “Get out and sing. Play your guitar and show off your talent.” “I may have to. I think I’ve hit every agent in the listings.”
