A Kind of Truth (21 page)

“I couldn’t believe he’d fuck up an opportunity like that.”

“Yeah. Hey, can I call you back? I’m—”

“Of course. I just want you to know I’m in your corner, Rand. I want Spiral to succeed.” Her voice dropped to a low, sexy note that instantly made me wary. She switched gears a second later, sounding infinitely professional. “I have some PR ideas I want to discuss with you. Can you meet tomorrow?”

“Um… sure.”

“Good. I’ll touch base with you in the morning.”

I turned my phone off and stuffed it in my back pocket. A prickly heat covered my skin. I couldn’t figure out the source without thinking it through, but I sensed a shift that required I move cautiously.

“Who was that?” Will asked nonchalantly.

“Leah.”

“Oh.”

“She has PR ideas and—whatever. I’m hungry. Let’s get ice cream. I’ll buy.”

I pulled at his arm and yanked him up the path before he could ask any questions. Like why was Leah always around? Why did she want to meet? Are you really buying the PR bullshit? The last forty-eight hours or so confused me. I was trying to straddle some invisible line to keep my goals moving forward. I knew what I wanted, but it didn’t seem so simple anymore. And I had a queasy feeling it was about to get a hell of a lot more complicated.

LEAH CALLED
me the following morning as promised to set a time to meet later in the day. I assumed she wanted to come by the studio in the afternoon to talk to the band, but she had something else in mind.

“I know a great restaurant near the studio. I’ll request a quiet table for two so we’ll be able to talk. I’ll text you the address. How does seven sound?”

“Uh. Good. I—I’ll see you later.”

It didn’t sound good. It sounded like trouble.

I looked over at Cory standing next to the sink in our tiny kitchen. “Help.”

“What happened?” he asked, methodically peeling a banana.

“She’s after me.” I gave Cory the short version of my recent interactions with Leah. “Has Holly said anything about what happened with her and Terry?”

“She didn’t say much, but I know she dumped him. I get the impression they were never serious.” He paused and cocked his head meaningfully. “You want to know what I really think?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I’ll tell you anyway. I think she was using him to get to you. Maybe make you jealous. Now you’re playing hard to get and she’s gotta have you.”

I snorted. “I’m not playing hard to get. I’m just not interested.”

“Since when are you not interested in someone like Leah? Whatever. I knew Terry wasn’t gonna last. She constantly egged him on. I haven’t been around a couple who does that much groping without alcohol being involved since high school. She wanted you to know what you were missing. If you ask me… she’s the reason Terry didn’t work out. She sabotaged this.”

“That’s a stretch.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’d be careful, man. She’s sexy as hell, but she wants a man in a band. Lead guitarist is cool but lead singer? Even better. Looks like you’re next.”

THE CASUAL
text she sent later with instructions to meet her at the bar made me think I’d overreacted and Cory was reading too much into things. So Leah was a flirt. So what? I was too. Generally it was a matter of no harm, no foul. But I had to question her motivations. I didn’t really think it was all about sex or dating a guy in a band. I had a feeling she was looking to jumpstart her career. I didn’t have a problem with hiring her on to do PR work if she was willing to do it for peanuts for a while. However, I was obviously going to have to make it clear this was a professional arrangement only. Which was why I ultimately felt like meeting her alone was probably appropriate versus meeting with the band in tow. I needed to get the uncomfortable part of setting boundaries over with now.

I was on high alert when I stepped inside the Orange Tree Bistro later that evening. It was fancy. As in not my kind of place at all. There were potted plants I supposed provided a rustic element, but the crystal chandeliers and ornate mirrors made me glad I’d thought to wear a black-collared shirt with my jeans.

“Hi there!”

Leah stood to greet me when the hostess escorted me to our table. Like me, she was dressed entirely in black as usual, but the slinky, formfitting material and plunging neckline weren’t the norm. Nor was her effusive hello. She leaned in as though she were going to peck my cheek and at the last second aimed for my lips. I pulled back and gave her a curious look. The one she gave me in return said she’d happily skip dinner and move on to dessert.

“Nice place,” I commented idly as I reached for the wine list.

“I ordered a bottle. I hope you don’t mind. It should be here soon. In the meantime, tell me about your day.”

A sommelier was at our table before I could respond. While he described the fruity blend of the wine he was about to pour, I nodded attentively and tried to figure out how to deal with this unexpected date. Because that’s what it felt like. She was crafty, but I was on to her. It was up to me to keep us on track.

“I like the PR ideas you mentioned last week. We’re strapped for cash, which is why we haven’t hired a firm. I’ve been the one in charge of a social media presence. Mike helps now but we’re bare bones.” I snorted and took a sip of wine. “We may be for a while. We need a guitarist again now that Terry—”

“I broke up with him.” She gave a short self-deprecating huff and swirled the burgundy liquid in her glass lazily. “I didn’t mean to blurt that out, but I think I should be clear about our relationship. It wasn’t ever serious, but it’s definitely over now. It was easy to say good-bye to him after what he did to you guys. I’m sorry to be associated with him. I don’t mean to come on too strong, but I want to work with the band. I’ve seen what you’re capable of over the last couple months, and I want to help. That’s all.”

She was saying all the right things, and her expression was perfectly sincere.

“All right, then. Cool.”

We shared a smile that seemed to convey mutual understanding and got down to business. We talked about markets, social media, and branding over dinner. It was refreshing to discuss strategies with someone who knew our music and had a feel for our general vibe.

“The guy who took over for Terry was genius. Who is he?”

“A friend who was thankfully in the right place at the right time. He’s not going to take the vacancy, unfortunately. I’ll have to find a replacement. Mike said he’s got a couple possible candidates.” I kept my tone carefully neutral.

“Too bad. I liked his aesthetic. It was fearless. I think the visual contrast he provided made an impact the other night. You might want to consider carrying it on. It’s a flash of glam. Audiences love it.”

“I agree.” Will had given me the pop of interest I was looking for without realizing. It might be tricky finding someone willing to dress the part, but I liked the concept. “I know a potential stylist.”

“Excellent. I have a couple of big projects I’m working on now, but I can start revamping your site and contacting bloggers now if you’re interested.”

“I am. I need to talk to Mike and the guys, but I have to ask… why do you want to help us? We’re a long shot. We don’t have a record deal yet and—”

“You will.”

I liked the certainty in her gaze. I met her Cheshire cat grin with one of my own, suddenly very glad I’d braved this “date.” Until she spoke again.

“You mentioned you were seeing someone. How serious is it?” The flirtatious note was unmistakably layered with sex.

“Serious. I think.”

Leah chuckled softly and leaned forward with her arms on the table. “Good to know.”

TWO CONTRACTS
came through later the following week, and a dreamlike state fell over all of us. Nothing seemed real. How could anyone be offered that much money to do something they loved? It was crazy. The numbers were mind-boggling. There was a lot to consider in deciding which deal best worked for Spiral. Both were lucrative, but the one from the big-name record company seemed more like a standard-issue contract for first-time acts. The loopholes designed to protect the firm could pose a possible detriment to us creatively. The second offer seemed like a better fit. It was from a smaller label called Suite Dog Records, founded by alternative recording artists. After meeting with their representatives, I instinctively felt they were our best option for protecting the integrity of our sound. The last thing I wanted was to have an idiot engineer layer our music with synthesized tracks and gospel-inspired background vocals against our wishes. I wanted to maintain as much control as possible. The money was fantastic to sign and astronomical later on. More than I ever could have imagined. And if our first album did well, the sky was the limit. However, we had a couple problems to iron out. Fast.

“We need Will’s name off the contract.”

Cory, Tim, and I were sitting around the small conference table in Mike’s office going through the contract line by line before we had a lawyer do it again, but it was a good exercise for us to formulate a plan of attack. Mike was having a harder time than usual sitting still. He’d never been involved in a deal potentially as big as this one. I could tell he was prepared to agree to everything I said until I finally shut up and signed the damn contract.

“We won’t know unless we run it by him. If he says no, we’ll counter, find a replacement pronto, and sign.” Mike sat back with a huge grin, only to fidget in his chair, bouncing his knees like a three-year-old as a strained silence ensued. “You liked Isaac. We can offer him the job if Will doesn’t want it. Maybe we counter for him to take over until Isaac learns the material. There are more than one or two ways to lock this in, but we need to know if he’d be willing.”

All eyes were on me.

“Ask him, Rand. This is it. If he says no, we’ll counter like Mike said,” Tim advised. “This is big for him too. The money is outrageous. The signing contract alone catapults all of us into the black. He’s a college student. They’re always broke. Even if he only agrees to a short-term option, it’s a win-win.”

“I don’t know if he’ll see it that way, but I’ll talk to him. Just make sure the lawyer knows about Terry. I don’t want any problems to pop up with him after the fact.”

“Terry isn’t going to be a problem. He knows he’s out,” Mike said confidently. “He’s the one who fucked up. He gets it.”

“And he wasn’t bitter at all? Yeah, right. I don’t buy it, Mikey. I don’t care if the little fella has hurt feelings. What I don’t want is for him to create problems later.”

“Everything will be fine. Just talk to Will.”

THERE WASN’T
time to orchestrate an optimal time and place to let Will know the contents of the contract. I had to move quickly and choose my words carefully. I ran through the script in my head as I set a plain bagel in the toaster and untied the ribbon on my apron. I glanced up at George, hoping to get his attention without having to interrupt his heated debate with one of his regular customers about the Yankees’ prospects without Derek Jeter.

“It’s dismal, I tell ya. Dismal! I can’t stand to see those San Francisco assholes win the Series again. It just ain’t right.”

Mr. G bowed his head in sorrowful agreement. I wanted to roll my eyes and razz them about the Orioles kicking ass this year, but for all I knew they sucked too. I hadn’t watched any baseball this season, and I didn’t have the patience to google their stats. I barely had patience to wait for a freaking bagel to toast.

“Randall, do you mind if I ask a nosy question?” George whispered in my ear. I jumped, surprised to find him so close when he’d been in an intense discussion on the other side of the counter a moment ago.

“Sure. Go ahead,” I said distractedly as I slathered cream cheese over the plain bagel.

“Are you in trouble, son?”

“Huh? No. Why do you ask?” My confusion must have been obvious. The older man let out a relieved rush of air and patted my shoulder affectionately.

“Oh good. You’ve been so happy that I thought maybe you found a girl, but this past week you’ve seemed out of sorts. I know your family isn’t nearby, but if you feel like talking… well, I’m happy to listen.”

I was dumbfounded. I stared at him like an idiot, thinking I should have looked up the baseball stats after all.

“Uh… I’m fine. Thanks for asking. I’m just preoccupied.”

“With a girl?” he asked with a wink.

“Not exactly.” I wrapped the bagel in foil and pulled out a paper bag before looking George in the eye. “There’s a guy I like who says he’s out of the closet but is going back in soon. I’m kinda crazy about him and it freaks me out. And I’ve got a girl after me who looks, sounds, and acts like my type, but I can’t fake interest ’cause I can’t get the guy out of my head. It’s confusing as hell. All I wanted was to come to New York and make music. I’ve done a great job avoiding complications, and now I don’t know what I’m doing. So yeah… I’ve got things on my mind. That’s all.”

It was George’s turn to look astonished. I wanted to laugh but I had to get going.

“Oh. I didn’t know. I would have introduced you to my son, Ezekiel. You should have told me.”

“Mr. G, like it or not, Zeke has a boyfriend. And I’ve obviously got more on my plate than I can handle. I gotta run. See ya next week!”

“Wait!”

I grabbed my jacket and darted toward the open glass door, yelling a brief good-bye. I didn’t want to waste time explaining my sexuality when my gayness or bi-ness was the last thing on my mind at the moment.

I made it to Washington Square Park in record time. Will was sitting at a bench facing the fountain, checking messages on his phone. His head was tilted in concentration. He looked thoughtful but serene. Just the sight of him made me smile. I felt a surge of affection so strong my heart skipped a beat. I didn’t know where it came from, but the intensity alarmed me.

“Here you go. Spicy jalapeño cream cheese on a cheddar-and-onion bagel.” I snuck up on him from behind and wagged the paper bag near his ear.