by Claire Adams
"As long as you like this record more than the second one, you're good," he said, sitting on my bed. I joined him.
"What's wrong with the second one?"
"Did you listen to it?" he asked. I nodded.
"Didn't it sound a little off to you?"
"It sounded different," I supplied.
"That was because it was our first with a major label. What they don't tell you when you work with them is that they care more about the money than the records they're making. They make music that they can sell. They produced the hell out of our sound. They rewrote lyrics, chopped up tracks, and changed the music. They did a hack job on my songs."
"That's why you left?"
"One of the reasons. I want to make the stuff that I care about, you know? Yeah, the music industry doesn't exist unless people are buying music, but shouldn't you care about the music you actually make? Make something that you aren't ashamed to ask people to pay for?"
"You don't have to work in the industry if you don't like it," I said.
"That's the thing. I do, at least some parts of it. I love the collaboration, creativity, the people who are really artists, whose music comes from somewhere real... I like that."
"Then make your own music on your own terms," I suggested. "You're a talented musician, and you're passionate. That has to be more than a lot of people already working in the industry even have."
"You really think I could do it?" he asked. I nodded vigorously. He smiled. "I was talking to my dad a while ago, and he was telling me something similar."
"You should take his advice," I said.
"He said I needed to take this time off to think about what I wanted, but I think I've known what I wanted all along."
I sighed a little. Time off, he said. That was what this was for him. He was going back at some point. A desperate thought flashed through my head, a frantic what if. What if he could stay? No, Abby, I thought. Get a grip; he had a life before he came here, and it's waiting for him back in LA.
"You want a solo career?" I asked, snapping out of my fantasy.
"I want to write my own stuff. If I collaborate, I want to do it with people I trust, who aren't fucking leeches trying to make as much money as they can on worthless noise."
"You've always wanted to make music, haven't you?" I asked. He smiled like he was remembering something.
"My first memories of being alive involve music. Music was the way my mom and I used to bond. It was the thing I felt was mine. All the best times of my life were set to music. Notes and melodies just made sense to me," he said.
I could hear the passion in his voice. I couldn't imagine how fulfilling making music was for him, but I was happy there was something that shone so bright in his life.
That was why he had to go back to LA. He would be miserable any other way. I would be miserable without him, but some things in life were replaceable. Others weren't. I fought what I was feeling to be happy for him.
"Guess your dad was right then," I said lightly.
"Guess he was."
I made sandwiches for us to eat at dinner, and we ended up turning in fairly early. He was asleep before I was, pressed into my back with his arm around my waist. I laced our fingers together and snuggled harder into him.
How much longer would I be able to do that? I had to remind myself every day to focus on the present with Nate, but with the end in sight, it was getting harder and harder to do.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Nate
My phone was ringing. What fucking time was it? It was so early in the morning. I opened my eyes and saw Abby's sleeping body beside mine. I turned and looked at the bedside table where my phone was, next to the lamp. I slid out of the bed so I didn't wake her and went to the bathroom. Today was one of those rare mornings I seemed to be up first.
I squinted at the number, but didn't know whose it was. I put the phone to my ear, closing the bathroom door.
"Hello?" I asked, clearing my throat.
"Nate Stone?" the person asked. I frowned.
"Yeah?"
"My name is Wes Barry. I've been trying to reach you for weeks. I'm a producer here in LA." I narrowed my eyes.
"Well, you found me. What do you want?"
"I know some of the guys who worked on your last record," he said. "I was wondering if we could talk."
"What the fuck about?" I asked, running the water and splashing some on my face. I heard Wes Barry laugh over the phone.
"Everyone's talking about you, Nate. You wouldn't believe the rumors they're telling about you."
"If the rumor is that I ran away to Hawai'i to join a cult and I'm never coming back, they're true."
"I wanted to hear it from you, Nate. Are you ever going back to Remus?" he asked.
"Why do you care?"
"Because I think the answer is no. And if that is the case, I have an offer for you — if you're interested, of course." An offer, huh?
"What kind of offer?" I asked.
"Your own music, however you want it. I know your sound, and I like it. I know what I heard off your second album with your band and that wasn't it."
"So what do you want to do about that?"
"I want to sell your music. I have a contract here for you I think you'll really like. Tell me where to send it, and you can have it by tonight."
"I'm not looking at offers right now."
"You'll want to see this, Nate."
"How many records would I owe you?"
"How many do you want to give me?"
"Stop bullshitting."
"No bullshit, Nate," he said.
This sounded too good to be true. I wasn't about to make the same mistake that I had with Remus again with this guy. Even though I hadn't gotten out of my thing with Remus yet, I was interested in what this guy was saying. This could be my out. I was sure at this point that I was making music in the future — yes, one hundred percent — but it was not going to be with Remus. They could kiss my ass. I was done.
"I hope you didn't call me to hear a yes from me immediately," I said.
"Of course not. I can send you the contract, and you can tell me what you think. Take your time," he said. I knew what that meant in music, and it didn't mean take your time. It meant get back to us before we lose interest and sign someone who's easier to work with than you.
"Awesome, I guess," I said.
"I'll be in touch," Wes Barry said before he hung up.
I looked at the phone. Now was as good a time as any to start thinking about my next move. It was just sort of unexpected, and it sounded like there might have been a catch. I was just talking about this with Abby, so maybe it was a sign, but I wasn't dumb enough to go into it headfirst without making sure it wasn't another sham contract that would trap me into something I didn't want.
I walked back into the bathroom and saw Abby standing with her back to me, getting dressed.
"Morning, babe," I said, walking over and kissing her.
"I was wondering where you were. Was that your record company on the phone?" she asked.
"No, it was another producer," I said vaguely.
"He made you an offer? I heard, Nate, you can tell me."
"He's sending me a contract to look at for a deal I can start when I go back to LA."
"That's great. That is what you wanted, wasn't it?" she asked.
"It's good news, but I have to look at the contract first. I can't just sign it."
"But he's giving you what you want, right? A way to make your own music, exactly how you want?"
"If he really meant what he said, yeah."
She smiled sadly. "Then you're going to take it. You're going to start working with him when you go back to LA."
"I might, but that won't happen for a while, Abby."
"Tomorrow, in a few weeks, does it make a difference?" she asked.
"You're upset," I said.
"I'm happy for you, Nate. This is what you wanted."
"But it's not what you wante
d."
"I want you to be happy," she said, walking past me into the bathroom. I heard the water running and the sound of her brushing her teeth.
It was getting real now. We couldn't pretend that my life in LA didn't exist anymore. I didn't want it to end either, but she was a lot more upset about what was happening than I was.
I walked over to the bathroom doorway, looking at her reflection in the mirror.
"Come with me," I said. She was patting her face dry with a towel. She turned to look at me.
"Come with you where?"
"To LA. This doesn't have to end when I have to go. You can come with me. We can stay together."
"I can't leave the island, Nate."
"Why not?"
"I've built a life here. I have no real family left; the people here are my family. There's a reason why I came to Lanai and not Oahu or the Big Island. Nobody knows about what happened to me here. They know me as Abby Terrell; they have no idea that I'm that girl from Texas — and I need it that way. I can't be back in a place where everyone wants something from me because they know about my past."
"We can get a place outside LA, and I can just go for work," I said. She shook her head.
"We have different homes, and that's okay," she said. "It's not over yet; let's not worry about what we can't change. I don't want to spend the rest of the time we have together worrying," she said. She walked over and kissed me on the cheek before leaving.
How long has this been on her mind? I thought. Obviously longer than it had been on mine. I was the one leaving her after all. Why didn't she want to come with me, though?
There was long distance, I guess, but that wouldn't have been the same. I couldn't wake up next to her if we were long distance. That wasn't okay. I didn't want to give up on what we had because of the offer, but when the hell was something like this going to happen again?
I could stay here. That was an option, right? I'd have Abby, but what else? Would the offer still stand? Would they give me a contract even if I didn't live close enough for it to be convenient? I didn't want to live here and be traveling back to LA all the time anyway. What the hell would be the point if I stayed here to be with her, but never saw her?
I needed to get out of here. I wasn't figuring anything out on my own. There was only one person I could talk to about this besides Abby. By now, I basically knew that I could count on finding him at the bar when I needed to talk. I'd miss that when I had to leave. I didn't have any people I could really count on in LA. If anyone was left over from when I was using, I didn't want to be in contact with them anyway.
Keno waved from the bar as I approached.
"Hey, man," I said, sitting down.
"Hey. You haven't needed a drink from me in a while. What’s up?" he asked. I laughed.
"It's not that bad yet," I said.
"What happened?"
"Summer's almost over," I said.
"You're upset about that? Is it Abby?"
"Of course it's Abby. It's like we can't pretend anymore that I'm not leaving. I think she's becoming distant since she thinks she's losing me."
"Can you blame her?" he asked. I sighed, irritated.
"I told her I didn't want to break up."
"What are you going to do? Stay? Are you going to make her do long distance?"
"I told her she could come with me."
"You don't even have to tell me what she said. The fact that you're here now tells me everything I need to know."
"She doesn't want to leave Lanai," I said.
"A lot of people who live here never want to leave. I don't know that much about how she got here, but I know she has nobody on the mainland to go back to."
"She'd have me," I complained.
"That’s not enough, brother; she still wouldn't be home. Why do you want her to go with you? Why can't you stay?"
"I got an offer from a producer in LA for a new deal," I said. "If I take it, I can't stay here, I have to leave, but I don't want to leave her behind."
"You gotta choose," he said gravely.
"I don't want to choose. That's like asking me which one of my lungs I'd rather lose, left or right. I can't see a life in LA without music, but I can't see it without Abby, either."
"I can't tell you what to choose, but whatever it is, you have to find a way to be happy with it." I looked at Keno. He was saying the wrong thing to me. He was such a romantic guy; why wasn't he defending me for staying with Abby?
He was right, ultimately, but it wasn't what I wanted to hear. I was still going to lose something, whatever I picked. I told him I had to go and left. I didn't have to make the decision right now, but the clock was ticking. I knew the offer wasn't going to stay on the plate for long. What if I just refused to get back to Wes Barry and let him take his offer back? No, you didn't do that in business. I couldn't punk out like that.
I walked through the front lobby, looking over at the desk to see if Abby was there. She was, but her head was down. What did she want me to do? I felt like that would be the right thing to choose. I thought about going over there when I noticed a group walking towards the desk. They had cameras, but they weren't tourists. I could spot a herd of reporters from a mile away. I heard the flashbulbs going off and the guys shouting Abby's name.
Oh shit.
I rushed over there. Abby looked like a deer in headlights. Makani looked like she was trying to grab her and take her to the back. I could hear them asking her about her father. They weren't asking; they were yelling.
The girls were out from behind the desk, walking towards the door that went to the back. I got between them and the reporters.
"Out of the way, man," one of them yelled.
"Wait a minute, are you Nate Stone?" one guy asked.
"You guys looking for a story? I got one for you. I've been here all summer making plans to move here permanently," I said, grasping for the first thing I could think of. The guys exploded, all asking questions at once. I had them.
I glanced back at Abby. They were still at the door. I winked at her, and she smiled, letting Makani lead her away. The reporters were all still there. I started talking, anything to get them off of Abby.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Abby
I never thought I'd see the day that a swarm of men with cameras were flashing lights in my face and yelling at me about my father in Lanai. I honestly thought that I had left it behind me, which was why when it had happened, I froze. I felt like I'd just been plunged six years into the past and a scene that I had stopped recognizing was suddenly in front of me again.
But then Nate had shown up and they had left, and I was in shock and Makani had gotten me a glass of water, and then I had cried.
I wasn't upset; I was more shocked and relieved, and confused about what was happening. I didn't want to think about what I would have said to them if they had stayed around long enough.
I was glad that Nate had done what he had done. I was a little worried, though, about what he had told them. This was sort of like his haven away from the craziness of his life, too. I didn't want him to have lost it because of me and my stupid past.
By the end of the day, I had more or less recovered. Joseph had offered me the rest of the day off; that was after he had sat me down to explain to him why he had a flood of reporters in his lobby looking for me.
I had told him my story. I’d had everything altered when I’d had my name changed. Because the person I was before my name was Abby Terrell was effectively gone from the face of the earth, it was a little complicated.
He listened to me stone-faced, and then told me that he understood if I wanted to take the rest of the day off and that he would take steps to make sure that that never happened again. I appreciated the thought, but I did know that having the reporters around would have been bad for business, so it wasn't totally for me.
I felt okay enough to finish up work. Makani asked me about three times each hour whether I was sure I was okay, and the answer was
consistently yes. The initial shock of it had been bad, but the thing was, I wasn't a kid anymore. I wasn't helpless. I loved that Nate had done what he had done, but all it made me worry about what would happen to him now.
After work, I went straight to his suite, not sure whether I'd find him there. I knocked at the door, knowing that he’d open it for me if he was in there. I flew into his arms when he opened it. I kissed him deeply, cupping his face in my hands, feeling his prickly stubble against my palms.
"Whoa, I was going to ask whether you were okay, but I guess I know the answer to that," he said. I pressed my forehead to his.
"What did you do, Nate?"
"What do you mean?"
"With the reporters? I wish you had let me handle it," I said.
"I wasn't going to stand there and let them bully you."
"But what if they come after you now?" I asked. He shrugged.
"I have practice. All news becomes old news eventually. They can't talk about me forever." I sighed, running my hands down his chest.
"Thank you for doing it," I said.
"They weren't getting away with that," he said, hugging me tight to his chest.
"I came to get you," I said.
"Why? Where are we going?"
"I want to take you out to eat. My treat."
"You don't have to do that, babe. It was nothing. Really."
"You still have to eat," I said, smiling up at him. I let him go and got dressed before we left. We walked down the beach past my house, getting to the restaurant through the beach. It was a small place, and we had to wait to get a table, but it served fantastic seafood, and I just wanted to say thank you to him somehow.
There was still something that was nagging at me that I needed to know the answer to. I knew how I felt about him, and at this point, it was safe to think that he might have felt a little similar, but even as I was trying to get over the shock of seeing the reporters, I couldn't stop thinking about what he had said he wanted to do.
"I'm gonna miss these places when I go back to LA," he said. I glanced up at him from my plate.
"When you go back?" I asked.