Dinner was… strange.
Not because anyone was outright rude.
That would’ve been easier.
No, the Baxters were the kind of people who could make you feel unwelcome while still passing the mashed potatoes.
The dining room itself was gorgeous, but the conversation wasn’t formal.
It was all music.
Branding.
Streams.
Tour dates.
Managers.
Image.
Momentum.
Everything revolved around one thing:
Landon’s future.
And not in the way normal parents talked about their kid’s dreams.
Not hopeful.
Not supportive.
Strategic.
Like they weren’t raising a son.
Like they were building a product.
Walker was talking about a showcase in L.A. when I finally realized I hadn’t heard a single person ask Landon what he wanted.
Only what made sense.
What would sell.
What would position him best.
M
