“NO! I have not been making music to get famous and have shitty things written about me, or to be stuck on a bus for months, or to be told what to do by some schmuck in suit who listens to fucking modern jazz all day. I’ve been making music because that’s what I love doing. What’s going to happen, Mia, if I turn my back on this shit now?”
“Career suicide, you’ll probably have to work at the Montosh for the rest of your life.”
“No! I mean what’s going to happen with us?”
“I don’t even know what us is yet.”
With his mouth open in awe, he shook his head frantically.
Here comes neurotic Will.
“Singing a different tune now, are we? I seemed to recall you saying you loved me, but maybe that’s only when you’re on your back.”
“How dare you,” I said, trying to prevent the tears from welling in my eyes. “I just lost my dog… and my father. I’m not capable of making any decisions right now.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” he said immediately with a purely penitent look on his face. His eyes darted back and forth, searching mine. I let him squirm for few minutes while I thought about what could have happened to the real Will. I considered asking the imposter what he had done; if perhaps my sweet Will was in danger somewhere or maybe the imposter was actually wearing Will’s body like a suit. I burrowed my laser gaze into his corneas and waited a good thirty seconds before speaking. He must have anticipated some catastrophic melt down on my part because he took a deep breath and held it. But instead of anger, I just felt disappointment.
“I think you’re the one who’s singing a different tune. You got me in bed, so now you can be a jerk, right?”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. Please, Mia, I’m crazy about you. I’m under a lot pressure and I need you on my side.”
I stared out the window without a response. When we pulled up to the studio, he ran around and opened my door, but I didn’t take his hand. I was surprised to see so many suits in the place. Live Wire was sending in the big guns to set Will straight and it looked like Frank was eyeballs deep in apologies when we walked in.
“What’s she doing here?” Will said to Frank, gesturing toward Sonja, who was sitting in the corner with her entourage
“Will, we need to talk. Let’s go outside.”
My stomach dropped. There was a doomsday atmosphere in the room; people barely acknowledged Will and I was definitely getting the stink eye from all directions.
Right outside the door, Frank grabbed Will by the shoulders, getting his full, undivided attention. “Listen to me closely.” He looked over at me and winked as if he had just noticed my presence. “Hey, Will’s Mia.” He abruptly put his attention back on Will. “Rady and some other execs from Live Wire are in the building. There are lawyers here; your lawyer is on his way.”
“I have a lawyer?” He was genuinely surprised. I tried my best to follow the conversation. I knew Rady was the A&R guy from Live Wire that Will avoided at all costs and I knew that Will was in hot water because of his lack of cooperation with the genius they hired to produce the song.
Supposedly Brent Blackton was this studio savant who had produced more hits than Jimmy Jam, but Will thought he was fake, in part because on the first day they met, Blackton asked what kind of music he played. He told me he his response was, “Christ, I’m fucked. You don’t know what kind of music I play. I play Swedish fucking folk music, get your goddam clogs.” Needless to say, Blackton wasn’t amused and first impressions can mean everything in the music business.
“They want you to sign the contract before they spend another dime on this song. Blackton wants Sonja to sing backup and the label is behind him one hundred percent.”
“No! No! No fucking way! You have to fight for me, Frank. That’s what you’re getting ten percent for.”
“I haven’t seen a dime, Will, and I won’t unless you sign this deal and cooperate with these people.”
“What happened to artistic freedom? I’m getting fucked!” He was screaming at that point. “You people are blowing me wide fucking open, you’re gonna make me sell my soul to the devil. I won’t, Frank, I won’t sell my soul.” Then he looked at me and pointed in my face. “I won’t!” Neurotic Will in full force.
“Calm down,” I said with authority. “I mean, who has final say? He hasn’t signed anything yet.”
“Listen, there’s a lot of hype about Will because of Sonja. The label wants to ride that wave.”
I could see Will splintering. He was on the cusp of making an irreversible and rash decision. “Give him one day. Ask the label if we can meet tomorrow. He’s been on a plane for five hours—let him sleep on it.” I smiled and shamelessly batted my eyelashes at Frank.
“It’s not up to me, sweetheart, but I’ll try.”
Frank left us outside. A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead. I was dressed way too warm for Southern California, even for it being wintertime. “It’s freakin’ January and seventy-five degrees, what a joke.” I looked at Will, who was clearly experiencing some sort of cosmic mental breakdown. His face was flushed and then he shivered as he stared aimlessly at the ground. He was wearing black jeans, steel-toed boots, and a gray T-shirt over a black, long-sleeved thermal. I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t roasting. When he crossed his arms and shivered again, I put my hand to his head.
“You have a fever.” I looked into his eyes, but he fixed his gaze on the empty parking space behind me.
His shoulders were slumped and his face defeated. “No, this happens when a man’s heart is ripped out of his chest and then kicked around by the people he trusts.”
I wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and put him in my pocket for safekeeping.
Just then Sonja sauntered out and threw her arm around Will’s shoulder. She glanced at me and smirked before addressing him. “Willie, what’s wrong? Are you mad?” Her speaking voice was shrill, nails on a chalkboard. I threw up in my mouth a little and then shook my head. Will kept his head down and ignored her. She wore a tight, pink lacy dress that left nothing to the imagination, but her shoes were what really got me. She had on white platform wedges that were at least twelve inches off the ground. The angle of her foot was so steep I thought she must have been double jointed or something. I gawked, wondering how it was even possible. Her short little body almost met Will’s at six feet tall.
“I think Will wants to be left alone.”
“Well, you’re out here.” She had a cute doll face, pudgy red lips, brown eyes, and thin black eyebrows that looked like strings. For having a decent singing voice, her speaking voice was barely tolerable. She arched the strings, waiting for my response.
“Well, I’m his girlfriend.” The moment I said it, Will looked up with just a tiny bit of hope in his eyes. One side of his mouth curled into an unabashed smirk. If I had to guess what he was feeling, I would say two things: he was happy that I said I was his girlfriend but more than that he was intrigued at the prospect of a catfight between Sonja and me. I rolled my eyes at him.
“Sonja, this is Mia. Mia, Sonja.”
“Hi,” I said with an obligatory smile. “I like your shirt.”
“It’s a dress.”
“Whatever. Ready, Will?”
He slowly took Sonja’s arm from around his neck and stepped away from her like she was a cobra about to strike.
“Wait! Hold on. I just wanted to say thank you for opening the shows. You did a great job and…” She looked at me and smirked. “Thanks for that night back in San Diego. I won’t forget it.” She said the last part in a sultry voice.
The way Will’s eyebrows pointed together like he felt sorry for her made it obvious that she was full of shit.
Frank came barreling out the door. “You’re good to go, kid. He handed Will a disk. “She already cut a vocal track, just listen to it.” He looked at Sonja. “It’s not bad, sweetheart, but I think Will wants to debut something more original.”
“Fr
ank, you know you can’t talk to me; that’s what I fucking pay people for. Talk to my manager.” And then she made a shooing motion with her hand before turning on her giant heel and walking away.
“Let’s get outta here, I feel like crap.” Will said, yanking me toward the car.
In the back of the town car he nuzzled against me and began trailing light kisses across my collarbone. “What do you want to do?” I asked.
“I just want to get wasted with you and find out if there is a god,” he murmured into my neck before tugging on my earlobe with his teeth.
I shivered. He moved his hand between my legs and then kissed me gently, teasing my bottom lip with his tongue. “What was last night then?” I whispered.
“Progress, but I think I need more convincing.”
The car pulled up to our hotel overlooking the Santa Monica pier. As soon as I saw the giant Ferris wheel, I grabbed Will’s arm. “We need to go sit on that thing! Now!”
“Is it safe?”
“Come on!”
When the big red bowl swooped us off the ground, Will’s grip on my hand tightened. We were silent and spellbound by the orange and white Creamsicle-like sunset taking place over the ocean. The crashing waves were like glorious movements from some unfinished musical masterpiece. We sat transfixed as the sun played the ocean like a Steinway.
We looked at each other at the very same moment and then just stared into each other’s eyes, perfectly content. “Did something happen with you and Sonja?”
“No… who is Jason?”
“An old friend. He and his fiancé came over for dinner.” He huffed and I knew it had tortured him until that moment, but just like that, things were straightened out and we were finally communicating. I was a little hesitant to approach the Live Wire subject because it seemed like he was feeling better, definitely over the fever and chills. “Are you going to sign the deal and let her sing on the track?”
Without hesitation he said “No” and then kissed me passionately, pulling me onto his lap. His mouth was urgent and his hands gripped my face like a vise. It was a theatrical display that got everybody on the ground clapping as we swooped by.
Will was avoiding the topic and it sent me reeling. We were expected to meet the Live Wire execs the next day, but Rady had arranged for Second Chance Charlie and Will’s band, the managers, and whatever friends or family wanted to join to have dinner in a rented-out restaurant that night. It was sort of the period at the end of the sentence for the two groups who were parting ways. If Will didn’t show, it would be a real slap in the face, regardless of what his decision was going to be the following day. Plus, I think everybody wanted an opportunity to work on convincing him to sign the deal, me included.
Track 18: A Violin
I explored our gorgeous suite, complete with a baby grand piano and a stone fireplace. The marble floors were freckled with ornate Persian rugs and everything in the bathroom was white and smelled like Lilly of the Valley.
“Wow, Will, I can’t believe Live Wire paid for a room like this.”
“They didn’t. It’s my way of thanking you for coming with me.”
“You paid for this?” He nodded slowly like he felt a fraction of doubt about telling me that tidbit.
“Thank you. This is amazing and you’re sweet,” I said. “I think we should go to dinner with the group.”
“Fine, but first this…”
By that point we were mindlessly removing each other’s clothes. I pushed him down on the bed and lowered myself onto him. He sucked in a breath and smiled, so I leaned down and kissed him sweetly and then tugged at his lower lip before sitting up and moving on top of him. I went slow and savored the feeling of him filling me. He met my movements with the perfect amount of resistance, one hand gripped my hip while he ran his index finger down the center of my chest, slowly inching his thumb down to the bundle of nerves above where our bodies connected. He knew exactly what to do with his adroit guitar hands and I made a mental note to thank the nurse if I ever saw her. I jerked, writhing from the intensity; his other hand gripped my hip tighter. I arched my back and let my head fall while I got lost in the feeling of Will in me and all over me as we both cried out. A moment later he sat up, still inside me, and wrapped his whole body around mine.
“I love you, Mia.”
“I know.”
I couldn’t say the words because the feeling had unearthed a new sensation that I had no experience with in a relationship… fear. It’s a plaguing, unruly affliction that clouds any happiness born from real love. It’s a fool who thinks love will set him free. Love equals a morbid and relentless fear of losing the other person. It’s a freak-accident fear, a piece of space junk falling from the sky and obliterating him, leaving nothing but his smoking boots. It’s the unfortunate-organ-defect fear—suddenly, on his thirtieth birthday, the little crack in his heart that’s been there since birth will rear its ugly head and take him in his sleep while he’s spooning you. It’s the only way to know you’re really in love, when you ask the question would it be harder to watch him die, or to know he’ll watch me die? Is there more mercy in being the one who does the watching or in being the one who does the dying? It’s when you realize what mercy-killing actually means, it’s when you actually care to the point of tormenting worry. It’s not roses and white horses, it’s fucking brutal and it can send a person running for the hills. To love is brave and Will was the bravest person I knew.
When we got to the restaurant, Rady came stalking toward us in his black mohair suit with Ray-Ban Aviators peeking from the pocket. He was good-looking in a clean way, but he was fat. He looked like he’d eaten Ryan Seacrest for breakfast. He waddled up to Will, holding the black Gibson.
“What the fuck are you doing with my guitar?”
“Shut up, Will. Give the execs something.”
“Why, you guys having second thoughts?”
“No, of course not—it’s a nice gesture. They’ve made concessions, we all have. Pull your head out before you fuck yourself into obscurity.”
“Charming,” I said to no one in particular.
“I came here to have dinner, I brought my girlfriend; I’m not a circus monkey.”
“Hey, doll.” He finally acknowledged me before looking back at Will. “One song, blow ‘em away, it’ll get everyone off your back.” Will begrudgingly snatched the guitar from Rady and walked away. I stood there, not knowing what to do with myself until I spotted Frank sitting at a table nearby. He motioned for me to come over and then he stood up and pulled a chair out for me.
“Are you working on him?” he said, gritting a cigar between his teeth. He was pickled in Polo cologne, which I loathe. I squinted, trying to prevent the smell from permeating my space.
“I don’t know what to say, he has his own agenda. Maybe he thinks he’ll get another deal.”
“Maybe, but once word gets out that he’s difficult to work with, labels will keep their distance. What’s this master plan he keeps ranting about?”
“Never heard of it.” I searched my mind for some mention of a master plan, but there was nothing. While Will tuned his guitar on the tiny stage, I looked around the dimly lit room. The walls were painted blood red, which caused me to repeat REDRUM, like the kid from The Shining, over and over in my head. Then I imagined Will decapitating everybody but me with his guitar like it was a machete. I spotted Sonja ogling him; I hoped he would get to her first.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Nate. “Hey, how are you?” I said as I stood up from the table.
He hugged me and whispered, “I’d be a lot of better if he would sign the deal.”
I yanked my head back. “What’s in it for you?”
“They’ll keep me on, send me on tour with him. I’ll get paid for once. I hope you’re not the reason he’s fucking around with this,” he said derisively.
“I can assure you, it has nothing to do with me. It was good seeing you,” I said sarcastically before sitting down.
I finally understood what Will was fretting about. Bloodsuckers coming out of the woodwork, pressuring him to do this and that—it was frightening.
Will cleared his throat into the microphone. In his soft, sweet voice he spoke. “Hi, everyone.” People clapped and cheered and a few said “Hi” back. It was a very casual atmosphere except for the elephant in the room, which was the table of execs from Live Wire. I half expected Will to burst into a punk-rock rendition of the Rolling Stones’ “Schoolboy Blues,” a song written as an “Eff you” to their label, but he didn’t. “This is the song we’ve been working on and it’s evolving still, so bear with me. It’s called “Lost on You.”
No apologies for what I’ve said before
I’ve told you time and time again
I’d sell my soul for something more.
You’ve left me standing here
a thousand times
waiting on this big world to make up your mind
But I promise I won’t get lost on careless thoughts
‘cause love’s lost on you this time.
So put me out, don’t put me down
I can’t wait another minute to be found
When no words have been spoken
They say still waters run deep
But not when mislaid plans are broken
With nothing left to give
I’ll fall fast out of my mind
But I promise I won’t get lost on careless thoughts
‘Cause love’s lost on you this time.
He sang a saccharine and predictable version of the song the way he knew the suits wanted to hear it. He couldn’t massacre it if he tried, but there was little passion behind his performance and it may have only been evident to the people who really knew him, because most of the crowd clapped wildly. Without acknowledging the applause, he immediately went into another song with a slapping motion over the neck of the Gibson. This time there was passion and he didn’t strum smoothly, he played with disconnected movements and dramatic passes over the strings. It gave the song a melancholy vibe with bluesy undertones; I decided I wanted to be eulogized over that type of guitar playing. When he started humming, I found the melody vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it. The humming went on for several minutes, albeit it was perfectly euphonic humming, but I saw a few bewildered expressions throughout the room. I thought it might have been a strange version of “Amazing Grace” until Will uttered the first words.
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