“Thank you.”
“We will be up front with both you and Damon. He can’t record all of your songs if they’re all about the same subject. And it would be a travesty if your songs sat on a shelf somewhere, Will. We all know that. Damon knows that. Ben knows that. I think you know that. We’re trying to help you make a good and sound business decision with your art.”
I nod my head.
“I suspect you have a lot more where these songs came from,” Sabine says.
“I’ve been particularly inspired lately. But if you guys are sick of my subject matter–”
“No!” the entire room erupts.
“Don’t stop what you’re doing,” the other woman says. “We are not here to stymie your creativity, Will. That’s not what we do. We foster it. We encourage it. We do whatever we can do to make it happen… which is why you’re in this room with us tonight.”
“Keep writing, Will,” George says.
“And tell us what inspires you,” Sabine adds. “Is it a place? Maybe you’d like to take a trip to somewhere tropical. We could make that happen.”
“Or maybe you need a better studio to work in. We could move you down here, Will, when the tour is over,” George suggests.
“Or have you ever thought that this tour is what is inspiring you?” Sabine asks. “We just told Damon and Ben, but we’ve sworn them to secrecy. Now we’ll ask the same of you–we’re planning a tour in Europe. We’d love for you to be a part of it.”
I finally decide to take George’s advice and get comfortable, loosening my tie and leaning back in the chair. “Europe? When?”
“Damon will take six months off to rest, rehearse, and do some local promotional things in support of the new album–TV and radio stuff. The tour will promote it in Europe, and then we’re adding more dates over here.”
The time off would give me time to go back to work and get started with the PhD program at NYU, but I wouldn’t be able to finish anything by the time the tour started, and I’d leave my bosses and peers hanging if I joined Damon. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to make any decisions today. We want you to know you have options,” Sabine says.
“And resources available to you,” George adds. “If you want to go to Hawaii for a week to write, call Liza. She will make that happen for you.”
“This offer sounds a little too good to be true. What am I giving in return?” I ask.
“You work for us. You write for us.”
“Meaning…”
“That you write your music, you hold the copyrights to every song, but when you’re done, you option it to us first and we decide which artist records it.”
“Option it, meaning…”
“If it doesn’t fit with one of our artists, you can offer it to someone else.”
“Or let Damon have it?”
“We decide what Damon puts on his albums, remember?” Sabine says.
“But not what he plays on the road, or records on the bus and releases on EPs that go viral…” I remind them all.
“Correct,” George says. “But you don’t make money that way.”
He’s not wrong. “Where do I write? Do I have to be in LA?”
“No, of course not. You can stay in New York, or like I said… you can stay with Damon, if you’d like. If you don’t wish to alter your life at all, we don’t want to mess with whatever’s working for you.”
I clear my throat after a few seconds. A man who’d been sitting in a corner stands up and pours me a glass of ice water. “A woman inspires me.”
Everyone at the table glances between one another. George finally speaks, as Liza and Sabine look away from me. “We could find one for you.”
“No,” I say, nearly choking out the water. “A particular woman has been my inspiration lately. Shea. You seemed to be asking me what’s been my inspiration. I was just telling you. I’m not looking for you to find me a hookup. God… Fuck… No…”
“That’s a relief,” Liza says with a sigh. “We just… know your reputation…”
“I apologize for making that leap,” George says.
“Can’t blame you,” I say, forgiving him quickly. “If I, uh… wanted to take a trip with her, would that be a possibility?”
Sabine smiles at me, and doesn’t break eye contact. “As long as you’re producing music for us, Will, we’ll comply with any reasonable request. That seems reasonable.”
“You just said ‘producing,’ and I’m not really comfortable with that word. It sounds… mechanic. Robotic. Is there a quota of songs you’d expect from me?” I ask.
“Fifteen songs in a year… starting after the tour.”
“And the ones I’ve done already that Damon can’t use…”
“We’d love to license those from you, as well, but those wouldn’t be part of this contract,” George says.
“And if I break the contract…”
“The contract offers you a lump sum plus royalties, Will. Half of the payout is given up front, the other half is given when the contract is fulfilled. It’s unheard of in the industry. Should you break the contract, you don’t get the second half, and your royalties will be reduced to half for all songs delivered. This, of course, is separate from any performer royalties.”
“What’s the lump sum?”
“Half a million.”
“So I’d get two-hundred-fifty-thousand just for signing?”
“No, you’d get half a million. The whole contract is worth a million plus royalties. The breakdown of the royalties is in the contract. It’s far better than you’re getting paid now. It’s better than most songwriters are getting paid.”
“Why would you give me half a million dollars for nothing but my signature?”
“Because you’ll get your standard royalties for Horizon, Will, and it’s our way of making sure you get fairly compensated for what we know is going to be a huge hit for Damon. It was opportunistic of Ben to record those EPs, and I’m sure you’re aware how much money you’ve lost in doing that. But don’t think we don’t stand to make a killing off of this song. What you’ve planned for orchestration on the album cut is revolutionary. And the artistry of the song is like nothing we’ve ever heard. And we’re not just saying that. We’re showing you with money.”
“I see that... And it’s possible Ariel Naseem would record one of my songs?” I add, finally seeing where this is all heading.
“If we can change the pronouns, yes. She adores Horizon,” Sabine tells me. My heart is pounding at this point. She’s the biggest pop star in the world.
“My brother and his boyfriend would absolutely… die.” It wasn’t my first choice of verbs, but I decide to be polite for the group.
“We can answer any other questions over dinner. I hope you’re hungry,” Sabine says.
“If you’d like to negotiate some concert tickets for Ariel’s show in New York, too, I’m sure that could be arranged,” George adds. “Might make a great Christmas present for… Max and Callen, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling at the fact that they’ve either done a little homework or are privy to the madness that happened over the summer. It’s probably the latter, but hey. “That would be great, and, yes, I’m starving.”
“We thought about having pizza, but I thought that might be an insult to you, being a New Yorker and all. I’m not sure we could do it right. We decided on a Spanish restaurant. Is that okay?”
“Sounds amazing.”
“You have no idea what you’re in for,” Liza says. “Trust me.”
George and Sabine walk me into the hotel lobby at the end of the night.
“Just think about the offer. Take your time. We’ve told Ben he can’t release any more EPs with your new songs on the road… he’s not too happy about it. He’s got a lot of enthusiasm, and he’s doing great with your merchandise sales.”
“Yeah, he’s done a good job.”
“I heard you two got off to a rocky start.”
 
; “We’re fine.”
“Happy to hear it,” Sabine says. “If you ever need anything, you have our cards. Call us with any questions or concerns. Have your brother’s lawyer look over the contract, if that’s what you need to do.”
“Thanks for understanding.”
“It’s our pleasure. Have a good night, and enjoy the surprise we’ve sent up to your room.”
“Honestly, you guys have done too much already. Thank you. You’re great at the wooing,” I tell them, shaking their hands. “Good night.”
Chapter 15
Carrying my guitar and suitcase, I go up to the check-in desk and give them my name. I’d passed on dessert at the restaurant, and wonder if Liza had been in charge of covertly ordering something sweet from room service while I wasn’t paying attention. The one thing I learned tonight is that these people don’t take no for an answer.
“Everything is taken care of, and your guest is already here, Mr. Rosser.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no. There’s been a mistake. This reservation should only be for one.”
“No, sir, we have the suite booked for you and Miss Shea Livingston? Is that not correct?”
“Shea Livingston?”
“Yes, Mr. Rosser.”
“She’s here?”
“I checked her in personally about thirty minutes ago.”
“Gorgeous woman… distinctive ears…” I get my phone out of my pocket and pull up a picture of her. “This woman?”
“She’s very pretty, yes, sir. That’s her.”
I greedily take the key from the hostess and walk quickly to the elevator. “Thank you!” I yell back to her on my way.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Rosser!” she hollers, waving at me with an eager smile.
I debate whether or not I should use the key when I get up to my floor, not wanting to startle her. Deciding to knock, I do my best to straighten my tie and hair before I do.
She’s grinning from ear to ear when she opens the door. “Did they not give you a key?”
After setting my things just inside the room, I close the door and pick her up, covering her face with soft, gentle kisses. “This is a prime example of when wall sex is appropriate,” I whisper to her before sucking on her earlobe. She laughs, kicking her legs playfully as a signal for me to put her down. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Damon thought it would be good for both of us, so I flew back with him.”
“I am… I am… I am so happy to see you right now. How are you? Come sit down.” I take her hand and pull her to the couch, finally taking the opportunity to look around the suite. “This place is crazy.”
“There’s a record player. They have the Thriller album.”
“Shut up…”
“Want me to put it on?”
“Well, yeah,” I state to her what should be completely obvious. She laughs at my response and walks across the room, carefully setting the needle down on the vinyl. I close my eyes at the beginning to Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’. When she gets back to me, she pulls me off the couch and starts dancing. I mean, I can’t help but join her. No one can sit still to this song.
“Shit! You know how to dance!” she says, surprised.
“Don’t you dare tell anyone.”
“If you tell me you know the Thriller dance, I’m posting it online.”
“If you tell me you don’t know it, I’m kicking you out of this room… I’d be scouring YouTube right now for some lessons,” I warn her playfully.
She stops dancing for a second and looks at me seductively. “Do you think we’re actually gonna make it to track four?”
“Can I tell you how much I love it that you know Thriller is the fourth track on this record?” I kiss her before we start dancing again.
My hands on her hips, I hold her close to me at the end of the song, feeling her move quickly to the beat. We sing the words together between laughter because it’s admittedly kind of silly. My cheeks hurt by the time the song is over.
Shea slides the jacket off my shoulders and sets it on the edge of the sofa. “You never sent me a picture, but you are fine in a suit, Will.”
“You like that?” I ask her.
“Yeah.”
“Well, you look stunning in your dress. Is this what you were wearing at your open house?”
“Yes.” She twirls around for me on colorful shoes that look like ballet flats.
“It’d be a shame to waste these nice clothes in this room, don’t you think? There’s a cool bar downstairs. Let me buy you some wine. We can celebrate a start of something new in your life.”
“Okay,” she says with no hesitation. I slip my coat back on.
“Wait, did the label people know you were here?”
“They bought the ticket.”
I grin and nod my head. “Just checking. They said there was a surprise in the room… just wanted to make sure there wasn’t something else.”
“I’m not enough?” she asks, lifting that damn brow. I move in to press my lips to her dimple.
“When I get the striptease later, it’ll be enough.” I get a playful slap on the cheek for that.
In the elevator, I nuzzle up to her and kiss her temple. “You’re the best thing that could happen to me tonight, Shea, and let me tell you… a lot of pretty fucking awesome things happened to me before I got here.”
In the bar, I order a bottle of wine that Shea picks out and a pitcher of water to quench my thirst. We sit in a circular, corner booth that’s not very well lit, which adds to the old speak-easy vibe that the bar puts off. It’s a very cool place.
“Tell me about tonight,” I urge her once the waiter pours her a glass.
“It was… fun,” she says, a little reluctant. “All my friends were there, and that meant the world to me. Sarah called me, even though it was the middle of the night in Jahun. That made me cry.” She wipes her eyes with a cloth napkin. I put my arm around her and kiss the top of her head. “She told me it wasn’t my fault I lost the place… that she knew Momma was proud.”
She starts to cry against my shoulder. “Shea… I’m sure both of your parents would be very proud of what you’ve done. To see a woman so young running that restaurant? It’s not your fault it’s closing. And you didn’t lose it. Someone is essentially stealing it from you. You get that, right?”
“I guess,” she says. “I worked so hard.”
“It showed. The articles on your wall? The recognition the place received? You fucking rock, Shea. Don’t let a fucking landowner make you question your talent or self-worth. He’s a businessman. He’s in it to make money, that’s it. He doesn’t see your heart and soul. He sees green, and the bottom line, and that’s it.”
She nods in acknowledgement.
“Look at me.” I wipe the remaining tears from her cheeks and kiss her softly. “You’re gonna come out of this stronger… better. I promise you that. Tell me what else happened.”
“The auction was a little insane. I didn’t get as much as I wanted on the appliances, but the furniture in the dining area… the bids just kept going up and up… I made four times what I estimated. I don’t even know the person who bought it all. Some investor from Chicago.”
“That’s great!”
“Yeah. And I ended up selling most of the merchandise, too. Damon was a Godsend. We had a line of people to get in to see him from open to close. It probably messed with attendance at the food fair,” she says with a little chuckle. “But they stayed and looked around and bought stuff. He was just what I needed. Thank you.”
“I can’t take credit for that. It honestly wasn’t my idea. I don’t know what Damon told you–”
“He told me the truth. He told me that you just wanted him to call the Maubry or something, and that when you found out he was coming alone, that you were worried.”
I tap a cardboard coaster that was sitting on the table rhythmically to the music that’s playing and look straight ahead at the wall across from us. “A little.”
/>
I feel her hand on the middle of my thigh. It gets my attention. “Who didn’t you trust?”
Bending over slightly with my elbow on the table, I start to tug at my hair. After a few seconds, I shift my attention to her. “I’m still getting to know you, Shea.” I may as well be honest.
Her smile is small as she nods her head.
“You said he was attractive,” I whisper in what comes out as something of a plea of understanding.
She laughs at me and pulls my hand away from my hair, taking it into hers. “I know, but I’m not that kind of girl, Will.”
“Okay.” I sigh. “Good to know.”
“He’s physically attractive, but you’re… the entirety of the man I never really knew I could have. I’ve never had the privilege of knowing anyone like you. Someone who’s not only handsome, but incredibly smart and creative and funny and desirable and sensitive, too.”
I have a physical reaction to her use of the word sensitive. I’m not sure anyone’s ever called me that before, which means one of two things: either she’s lying, or I’ve changed.
And she’s assured me she doesn’t lie.
“Hardly anyone gets to be with someone who’s all of those things.”
“Well, I do,” I tell her. “Except substitute handsome for fucking tantalizing as sin, though.” Shielding her from any onlookers in the restaurant, I move in to kiss her the way she’s taught me. I run the pad of my thumb up and down the shell of her ear as my lips move against hers, neither of us daring to break away first. Under the table, she drags her left leg over my right one. I’m happy her dress is long and flowing, or else I’m not sure someone from across the restaurant couldn’t see whether or not she’s wearing sexy underwear, and I sure as hell want to be the first one to figure that out tonight. When my oxygen-deprived mind begins to think it’s a good idea to drop my hand from her ear directly into her lap, I decide we need to go upstairs. I break the kiss, gasping for air as she smiles, claiming her own silent victory. “We have to get out of here.”
“Like you need to tell me that,” she says.
I signal for the waiter to bring me the check, my legs shaking impatiently under the table. While we wait, I move hers back where it belongs, the lure of it too much for me to handle at the moment.