Love Will (62 page)

“They want it for Damon,” our manager says, bursting in through the doors, “at the higher royalty rate.” I shake Peron’s hand, extremely happy that the song stays with my best friend.

“You can’t fucking leave me,” he says to me as he hugs me after I’ve put my guitar in its case.

“I’ll always be here in spirit, man. And I’ll be back. You know that.” He nods his head. “And fuck the bonus deal on the contract. I’ll write songs for you over the next year. If Peron wants to write with me long distance, I think that’s what we should do. I’ll just have a library of songs for them, and a separate one for you.”

“I’m in,” Peron says. “I can’t write shit without you, but we make a good team.”

“We do.”

I’m adding to my creative workload over the next year, but I know I can handle it. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of restless nights overseas, and the time difference should be ideal for us.

I guess I’m signing that contract. I think I’d be a fool
not
to.

Chapter 26

In Utah, my morning run was delayed by a meeting with Sabine, George, and a music lawyer I’d hired. I figured if I was about to be handed such a large sum of money, I could afford my own damn attorney. Aaron is thirty-eight, incredibly sharp, and actually represents some of the biggest artists in the business. He told me he’d never seen a contract like mine for a songwriter, and asked to hear what I’d written to see what was so special about my music. I was flattered to the point of embarrassment by his compliments. He shared Frusciante’s feelings, saying he’d never seen so much talent in anyone my age. He chastised me when I told him I was going back to school for my PhD in physics in a few months, concerned that I wouldn’t be able to meet the terms of the contract, but I assured him that my mind never rests.

After agreeing to take me on, I asked him to draft up a contract for me and Peron, too, making sure that Peron was getting a good deal, as well. I’d already gone over the details with my writing partner; we’re just waiting for me to ink my deal with the record label before we sign ours.

The meeting went smoothly. Although I wasn’t supposed to get the lump sum until the contract commences after the tour is over, Aaron negotiated a ten-percent advance upon signing. Granted, I owed him sixteen-percent of
that
for his work today, but I didn’t mind. I still had a huge check to deposit into my account and I couldn’t stop thinking about things I wanted to spend the money on.

After Peron and I signed our contract, he decided to join me for my run, but he couldn’t keep up with me, and decided to turn back before I was ready to stop. I like the fresh air in my lungs, and I want to explore the fairgrounds that I had visited with Laila and Landry on my last trip to Provo when I was sixteen.

The carnival’s not in town like it was then, but certain landmarks are still familiar from that weekend. I stop running on the stretch of land where I know the midway was set up. I remember getting banned from one of the booths. The guy taking my money either didn’t like my pitching arm or the amount of time I spent analyzing the physics involved in his carnival game. Over the years, I’d won Max more toys than I could count playing the milk bottle toss at local festivals. That was
my
game.

People talk about memories fading, but the important ones in my life never seem to. That day with Laila is no exception. I remember running into her friend–Dina–and the funny way she asked if we had broken up. There were so many clues on that particular day that should have hinted at the relationship that had been going on behind my back. I was either too naïve or too in love to see them.

I know that if anything had happened any differently, my life would have been on a completely different trajectory, so I’m not sad about the way things turned out. I just wish that I’d handled them better. That I’d been a better man over the years. It just makes me nervous, heading into such a serious relationship–the first
real
relationship I’ve had. I feel like I should have had more practice first.

It shouldn’t matter, Will. Plenty of people only have that one, real relationship. Look at Jon and Liv. They only really dated each other.

The truth is, I love Shea, and I don’t have any desire to slow things down with her. If she doesn’t want to, either, then I see no reason to put the breaks on starting our future now.
Today
. Whatever that looks like.

I keep running until I see the hill where I’d lost my virginity. I’d thought about jogging past the exact spot, but I see there’s no point. Where there used to be trees and undeveloped land stand more mansions than I can count. I remember that Jon built the first one on that hillside the summer he came to live with us in between his first and second years of college. He’d be shocked to see this today. I take a picture of the development and send it to him. He messages me back immediately.

- - That’s not… you’re in Utah… that’s not the hill I took you where we looked at the stars that night, is it? Next to the house I built?

- It is. The hill is gone. Your dream home is sandwiched in between two other families’ dream homes.

- - Man. Developers. Fuck ‘em.

- Isn’t that kind of your business?

- - I’d know better than to build around that house. That was sacred ground.

- - To me, anyway. I built that with my own two hands.

- It was beautiful.

- You better buy some land now.

- - We have our land. Don’t you worry.

- - There’s room for everyone.

- Did Jack buy it?

- - We may be inheriting a bunch of land in Wyoming. Yeah.

- Wyoming’s beautiful.

- - I know. So is Manhattan.

- I know.

- - How’d your meeting go?

- I’m about $42,000 richer today.

- - He got your advance?

- Yep.

- - That’s incredible, Will. I’m so proud of you.

- - Now you can pay me back.

I probably should have considered paying him back for bailing me out of my debt, but I didn’t, and I’m ninety-five percent certain he’s joking now. Maybe I’ll pay him back when I get the rest of it.

- - Calm down, I’m just kidding. That was a gift. It will always be a gift. I shouldn’t have even joked about it.

- No, you shouldn’t have.

- How about I keep you stocked with lullabies for all your future babies?

- - That sounds like a priceless gift from Uncle Will. I’ll take it.

- I’ll start working on my Goddaughter’s now.

- Anyway, I need to get on with my run.

- - Have a good one. Talk to you later.

- Love you.

- Tell Liv and Edie I love them, too.

- - Love you, Will.

In a way, I’m happy the hillside’s gone. I don’t have a place to lament the bittersweet memory, so I decide to turn back to the hotel to meet up with the rest of the guys.

My phone is ringing just as I cut off the water from the shower.

“Yeah, Alex,” I answer on speakerphone.

“There’s a girl in the lobby. A Laila? Says she knows you.”

I stop drying myself for a second, unsure if I heard him. “What’s her name?”

“I think she said Laila. Brown hair. Petite.”

I’d be lying if I said that when I saw Provo on the itinerary, Laila wasn’t the first thing to pop into my head. Of course she was. She was as much a part of the city as its beautiful terrain and starry night sky that solidified my love affair with our galaxy, and beyond.

But I hadn’t anticipated to see her. Hadn’t
hoped
to.

“Uhhh… give me ten minutes.”

“Want me to send her up?”

“No!” I shout quickly. “I’ll come down. Ask her if she can wait.”

“She says she’ll be in the bar.”

“Okay.”

My heart is pounding out-of-control. I examine myself in the mirror, touching the scar left by the stitches over my eye. My nerves are definitely getting the best of me. I knew I’d left the anger behind long ago, but I thought I’d feel indifferent and cold, but no. I can’t say what I feel exactly. Not quite excited. Maybe just anxious.

I pat my hair dry and pull on some jeans, a t-shirt, and my favorite hoodie.

On my way down the hall, I stop by Damon’s room.

“Lunch?” he asks, checking his watch.

“Laila’s here.”

“You invited Laila to see you?”

“No,” I tell him. “She showed up.”

“This is the one that destroyed you just before I met you. Right?”

“The one and only.”

“So… lunch?” he repeats.

“I have to see her,” I tell him. “I’m just meeting her in the bar. But I wanted you to know where I was and who I was with.”

“Because you don’t trust yourself with her?”

“I do,” I tell him. “I do, it’s just that… you know what? I’ve never been in a situation like this before, so I have no idea what to expect. So I wanted to tell you. That’s all.”

“Think I’ll have lunch in the bar,” he says simply.

“Damon, no.”

“Yep. Think the whole band will. Good idea, Will.”

“So, you don’t trust me. I get it.”

“You’ve never been in a situation like this. So, no, I don’t.”

“All right,” I say, shrugging him off. “See ya later.”

I find myself playing with the scar all the way down the elevator.

Standing in the corner of the lobby, I see her. She’s seated in the middle of the bar at a tall table for two, four full glasses awaiting consumption. My stomach writhes in protest at the sight of her. I always wondered what my reaction would be. I never thought I’d feel physically ill, but it immediately reminds me of the moments after I found out Landry and Laila were dating behind my back. I’d escaped to the bathroom and thrown up all the food I’d devoured that morning, feeling very much like I do right now. An acrid taste in my mouth, saliva builds.
It’s psychosomatic, Will.
But just as I start looking for the nearest men’s room, her eye catches mine, and my heart jumps, distracting me enough for the moment to pass. She stands up and waves me in, her blunt-cut straight hair falling in her face, attempting to obstruct her over-eager smile.

“Laila,” I say quietly, hugging her loosely to avoid being rude. Her embrace is much tighter.

“Will, thank you so much for seeing me.”

“Yeah, sure… are we expecting more people?” I ask, eyeing the drinks.

“No,” she says with a laugh. “Irish car bombs… I thought they’d be a good ice-breaker.”

“Did you, now?” I sit down and pick up the small shot glass, seeing movement at the bar entrance. Peron waves his arms wildly at me.
Like I was gonna drink this shit. Give me a little credit.
I huff to myself, setting the drink down gently and pushing it away with my index finger. “You go right ahead. I think I’ll wait a bit.”

“You sure?”

“Oh, I’m sure. It’s not really my drink.”

Laila shoots her strange concoction, then signals for the waiter to come over as soon as she sees him. “Let’s get you your drink then.”

“What can I get you, sir?”

“Ice water, please.”

“Coming right up.”

“No, get something else, Will! Come on…” she pleads.

“I’m good. Just the water. In fact, you can take this back–unless you want it,” I suggest to her, picking up the glasses.

“Not if you’re not gonna drink anything.”

“I’m not.”

“I’ll have water, too,” she says simply, watching the waiter take back the alcohol. “Well, that’s no fun.”