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flash. I’ve seen you write. We could knock it out tonight. We want your genius, Parker. Serene wants you to get full credit as the writer.”
    Her throat was dry, and she wished for water.
    Serene got that whine in her voice. “Parker, if we get this done on time, I won’t have to cancel any tour dates. I’ll still be playing to my fans. But Jeff Standard can get us bigger venues and more dates. I won’t just be playing in churches.”
    “What’s wrong with churches?”
    “They don’t generally hold that many people. Stadiums and coliseumshold more.”
    Butch went to the stereo and plugged his iPod in, and the rough cut of “Double Minds” began to play. Parker closed her eyes and listened to the song swelling over the speakers. Serene’s voice transformedsimple words and crude melodies into works of art.
    She wondered who the real genius was.
    Parker listened as the words of Scripture played across the chorus, weaving itself through the song. How could she untangle that to remove it? The song had been birthed in Scripture.
    Serene sat on the coffee table. “These are the songs we’re going to use, because they’re fabulous, Parker. We’re a killer team.”
    She couldn’t deny that.
    Butch pulled out a sheet with the lyrics written down. He thrust it at her.
    She took it and looked down at it. He’d crossed through God, sinners, cleansing hands …
    “If we do all this we’ll have to take the double-minded references out. That doesn’t even make sense as a love song.”
    “Sure it does,” Butch said. “The guy wants to get back with his girl, but he can’t give up his old ways—double minds. It works.”
    She brought her dull eyes back up to Serene. “How sure are you that Standard’s going to buy your contract?”
    “I’d say ninety percent. He’s in negotiations with the label now.”
    “And you think NT is going to let you go?” That didn’t seem likely to Parker. NT Records had a tremendous investment in Serene.
    “If Jeff Standard pays them enough, they will. And he seems pretty set on making this happen.”
    That sounded serious. “What if I say no?”
    Serene’s eyes rounded. “You’re my best friend, Parker. Like a sister. I want to take you where I’m going. You could ride the wave with me. It could be your ticket.”
    Serene’s clichés were the reason she didn’t do her own writing. “ My ticket? To where?”
    “If my records get into the hands of millions more people, then artists all over the place will be fighting for your songs.”
    “Most people buy records as mp3s these days,” Parker said. “They won’t even see the liner notes.”
    “I’ll tell them on my interviews. We’ll be like Elton John and Bernie Taupin.”
    She didn’t doubt that Serene would do that. But it wasn’t enough to sway her. “I wrote those songs in worship … some while I was praying. I just did a concert tonight, and everybody was into it. The Holy Spirit was working. They were lifting up their hands and singing—kids with twenty-second attention spans. That’s why I write, Serene. That’s why I perform.”
    “Who are you kidding, Parker? You know you want to do more than youth groups!”
    Parker let out a long breath and realized how tired she was. It had been a long day, and a girl lay dead. “You know, tonight’s not a good time to talk about this. Let me sleep on it and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
    “You’re not going to sleep on it,” Butch said. “You’re going to be up all night thinking about Brenna.”
    “Maybe,” she snapped, “but that’s nobody’s business but my own.”
    “Parker, come on!” Serene blurted. “You know you’re not safe going home.”
    Maybe she should go to her mother’s. Her mom would be glad to have her there, especially in the aftermath of her recent fake death. Parker got up, feeling weariness aching down her spine. She picked up her heavy handbag and slipped it over her shoulder. “Tomorrow we’ll talk.”
    “This is urgent! I