We both just stand here, three feet apart, staring at each other for a long moment before I finally lift my hood and turn to the main road to look for a cab. Because if I stand here another second, staring at that face, I won’t be able to stop myself.
As I walk, our conversation replays in my mind. What is it about that girl that makes me want to spill my fucking guts?
I shake my head at myself as I wave a passing taxi down. Whatever it is, I need to tame it before I let her in too deep.
#
Me and the guys are stretched out in a corner of the airport at a gate where there’s no flight scheduled when my phone rings. I pick it up when I see the number.
“Hey, Freddie. Long time.”
“Got your text,” he says. “So you’re telling me Shiloh Luck is thinking about jumping labels? Because I’d fuck my grandmother to get her over here.”
“She’s having some creative differences at Universal,” I tell him. “But I’m telling you, Fred, I just heard some shit last night that would make you come in your pants. You know her lead single, ‘More Than Nothing?’”
“The one she sang on The Voice,” he confirms.
“I just sat a BART station last night with her and the girl who wrote that, and these two are pretty fucking amazing. This kid, Lilah, can write the shit out of anything. Lucky wants to do her songs, but her producers are forcing her down the pop lane. She’s not feeling it and I’m pretty sure she’d consider going anywhere that would let her do what she wants to do.”
There’s a pause. “You know I’d need to hear it before I could make any kind of commitment in that direction.”
“I totally get it, man. I do. But I can’t fucking believe Universal vetoed this shit. It’s smart and original and kicks fucking ass. She’d be unstoppable with these tracks.”
“When can she talk?”
“I haven’t said anything to her ’cause I wanted to be sure you were on board first. Let me talk to her and I’ll get back to you.”
“All right,” he says. “Give her my direct line and tell her to call when she has a chance.”
“Her manager is Billie Sinclair. You might be hearing from her instead.”
There’s another pause, longer this time. “Tell me you’re not serious.”
A stone sinks in my gut. “What the fuck did you do, Freddie?”
“Billie. We’ve got…history of a personal nature, if you catch my drift. Let’s just say she might not be too receptive with the idea of moving her client over to me.”
I blow out a slow breath. “You fucked her.”
“For six months,” he says. “She didn’t take it so well when I stopped.”
My hand goes to the back of my neck and rubs at the knot forming there. “You’re the perfect label for what Lucky wants to do.”
“I’d cut off my fucking right nut to get her. And I’m thinking that’s pretty literally what it would take to get Billie to bring her over; my right testicle hanging from a chain around her neck.”
“Let me work on her. In the meantime, I’m going to send some tape from last night over so you can hear this shit for yourself. Try not to cream your shorts, man.”
He laughs. “Can’t make any promises.”
“That’s what got you into this fucking mess, you cocksucker.”
I disconnect and loll my head back on the seat, wondering what Lucky’s doing right now.
#
The next time I see her is after our sound check in L.A. We’re heading out the back just as she and her crew are coming in, and I can’t deny the change in my heart rate at just the sight of her.
Christ, she’s beautiful.
L.A. is way warmer than San Francisco and she’s in a white tank top and short black skirt, and it’s everything I can do to rip my eyes away from those legs.
“Hey,” I say as our paths cross. “You got a sec?”
She glances over her shoulder at the rest of her band, filing through the door. Max hesitates and cuts me a glare before following the rest of them in.
“Yeah…okay,” she says.
There’s a second when those deep whiskey eyes connect with mine that my synapses fry and I can’t remember a fucking thing I was going to say, but then parts of the thought drift into my consciousness like feathers loose from a pillow.
“There’s a guy I’ve worked with some, Freddie Palmer over at A&M. I think he’d be perfect to produce the stuff you want to do. I talked to him yesterday and he’s—”
Her expression turns instantly to stone. “Wait…what? You already talked to him? Why would you do that?”
“Just wanted to feel him out to see if he was interested before I mentioned it to you. I think his exact words were he’d cut off his right nut to sign you. And he’s interested in hearing Lilah’s tracks. This could be perfect for you.”
I’m talking too fast, because with every word she shakes her head a little harder and I want her to hear this before she totally shuts me out.
“I don’t want your help.”
“Seriously? Because this is an amazing opportunity.”
Her glare slices through me. “Seriously.”
I can’t even get my head around a single reason that makes sense why she won’t even talk to Freddie. “Why not?”