While I'm waiting for Heartstring to come back from the editor I'm sharing a few more random chapters with you. Don't forget to explore the rest of the Members' Area.
I open the banking app on my phone and sure enough the balance for the soup kitchen account matches what I can see on my laptop.
"What the fuck?"
Stan raises his head from where he's sleeping on his bed in the corner of the kitchen but proceeds to ignore me.
The overnight snowfall left a nice white layer on top of the van so this morning, since I didn't have any appointments I decided to work from home. I close the app and dial my business manager's number, thankful it's earlier on the west coast.
"Hey Tanner, it's Tyler," I say when he picks up. "I have an odd deposit in the soup kitchen account. Did you transfer any money?"
"Hey Ty. No, I've been working on a mess one of my clients got themselves into so I haven't checked your stuff. I'll investigate it on my side. See what I can find. But if anything, I'm sure I made a note to tell you to go spend some money. "
"Give it to charity or invest in a small business. You know the drill."
He sighs. He knows the drill. When Porter died I inherited a large sum of money from him. I tried giving it to Seymour but he said he doesn't need it and if Porter left me the money it's because he wanted to make sure I was looked after.
Not that I needed it either because by the time Porter died I'd long left my old job and was making good money off my songwriting.
I'd hired Porter's college friend, Tanner, when it all became too complicated and boring for me but all he keeps on telling me is to spend the money or give it to the tax man.
I've lost count of how much has been donated to charities and there's a bunch of small businesses out there that have no idea I'm their silent partner. Of course, that brings in more income.
It's laughable that when I needed money the most I didn't have it, and now there's too much of it.
"Ty, why don't you spend the money on you? It's about time you bought yourself a decent house, maybe one with a recording studio, a pool, or just a decent kitchen."
"Hey, the problem with my kitchen is me, not it," I argue.
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