No Place Like You

by Emma Douglas

  “Okay. I’ll see you back there.” She leaned in again. Kissed him, fast and hard. “Everything will work out. Trust me.”

  * * *

  Faith was waiting outside for Leah when she got back to the studio. She looked worried.

  How long had she been standing there? Since Leah had left?

  “How is he?” Faith asked.

  “Angry. But still here,” Leah replied. The flash of relief on Faith’s face told her she wasn’t the only one who’d been wondering if Zach would just pack up and go.

  Faith scowled. “I could strangle Billy.” Her hands flexed at her side as though she was imagining doing just that.

  “I think there’s a line forming for that privilege,” Leah said. “You think Eli will be able to get him to back down?”

  Faith shook her head. “Grey was about the only person I ever knew who could really talk Billy out of something when he’d made up his mind. And even he only succeeded about half the time. I don’t like Eli’s chances. Not even if he drags his mom into it. She’s never really put her foot down with Billy about this kind of thing. Family stuff, yes. Business, not so much.”

  Eli’s mom, Nina, was kind of a force of nature. But Faith was right. She gave Billy his freedom. “And he can really do this? Just take any slot he wants?”

  Faith nodded. “Yep. I rang the lawyers. They checked the wording. He’s right. I can’t stop him. In a way it’s easier that he wants the secret gig. It would be all kinds of awkward to have to bump the closing act this late. At least a change in the secret act doesn’t screw up all the promo.”

  No, it just screwed over Zach. “I still don’t understand why he’d do this now,” Leah said. “He could have told you months ago if he wanted the secret gig. Or the headline slot for that matter. Why wait until now?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. I put some feelers out. Tickets for the Erroneous tour aren’t moving as fast as they’d like, but it’s not like they’re bombing.”

  “You think there’s something else going on?”

  “I have no idea. I tried to call Nina but she’s in court today. So I think we just have to go ahead and assume Billy’s not going to alter his course. Theo’s waiting to hear about logistics for getting all of Erroneous’s shit here in time.”

  “And Zach’s just screwed.” Leah rubbed her chest, trying to chase away the sick sensation lingering there. It didn’t work.

  “I’ll offer him another slot—I can’t bump any of the main acts, but we could squeeze him in on another stage. But I don’t think he’ll take it. He wants a main-stage, big-excitement gig to launch his solo stuff. Low key won’t cut it. If I had to guess, he’ll look for another big show somewhere.”

  “Which means he’ll be leaving.” Leah tried to sound normal about it. She didn’t entirely succeed. Her throat was suddenly too dry and her voice squeaked.

  Faith’s expression turned sympathetic. “You need to finish recording first. You’ve got time.”

  Time for what exactly? Convincing Zach to stay? To give it all up for her? That seemed as unlikely as Billy changing his mind. She tried to smile. “I always knew this was short term.”

  That didn’t chase the sympathy off Faith’s face. “You could try telling him how you feel,” she said.

  “Who says I feel something?” Denial. It was a long shot but worth a try.

  “I’ve known you since we were babies, Leah. I’ve seen you with him these last few weeks. You’re happy. Very happy. And not just ‘I’ve got a crush’ kind of happy.”

  “You really think me telling Zach that I was dumb enough to let myself—” She stopped, not wanting to say the word out loud. That made it real. Would only make it harder when the time came. “I mean, you really think some sort of big declaration would make a difference? This is Zach we’re talking about. Something tells me that’s more likely to make him run away even faster.”

  Faith winced. Which meant she didn’t really have a counter-argument. “Okay. I won’t butt in. I’m here if you need me, though.”

  Leah smiled at that. “I know.”

  * * *

  “So what exactly are you saying, Jay?” Zach stared down at the phone on the kitchen table in frustration. He wished he could see his manager’s face, but Jay was in a car somewhere in L.A. on the way to the airport to go to New York for another client. So far, this morning’s conference call wasn’t proving any less frustrating than yesterday. “Are they pulling the deal?”

  “No.” Jay’s voice was thin through the phone’s speaker. “But I have to be honest with you, Zach. Without the whole CloudFest, Blacklight, going-back-to-your-roots thing, I got the feeling their enthusiasm was way down.”

  Fucking perfect. Without a big label really wanting to push him and give him the kind of promo he wanted—that would be hard to achieve on his own—he was all kinds of screwed. The deal Jay had been chasing was one with the focus on the marketing side. He had enough money to record but he didn’t have the reach that a huge label’s marketing machine could get him.

  “And what would it take to get their enthusiasm back up?” he asked.

  “At this point, I’m not sure. You need something flashy. Something to catch their attention. If you’ve got any favors to pull in, I’d go asking. See what you can come up with. Otherwise—Harper or not—you’re just going to be another act to them. And we’re not going to get the same deal.”

  That was clear enough. Prove he could bring something to the table or else. He asked Jay a few more questions then ended the call. It was nearly midday. He needed to get to the studio. Leah was already there, finishing up with Nessa. The rest of the guys would be there at one. He’d broken the news yesterday that there would be no CloudFest gig and managed to convince them all to stay regardless to work with him on the rest of the album. It hadn’t been easy. Pete, the drummer, had been ready to bail, to go looking for another gig. But this was one area where Zach’s money could do some good and the guy had agreed to stay when Zach had offered more cash. They’d have to see how it worked out in the long run.

  He bent to pick up the messenger bag with his laptop and other crap in it, shoved the phone into one of the pockets, and looked around. Had he forgotten anything? He couldn’t think. Sleep had been hard to come by last night, he’d been so mad. Leah had come over, and the worried look in her eyes had only made him feel worse. He’d taken her to bed and they’d indulged in some mutual distraction for a while, but he’d lain awake for a long time after she’d fallen asleep curled up against him. But other than his guitar, he didn’t think he’d missed anything. So. Time to suck it up and go over to the studio and rehearse like he was just fine with the crap Billy had pulled.

  Be an adult.

  When for once, he could entirely see the appeal Grey had found in alcohol. Anything to calm the storm in his head so he could think.

  His hand clenched around the strap of the messenger bag. No booze. He was better than that.

  Still, he couldn’t quite make himself walk to the front door and get in the damn truck.

  While he was standing there, telling himself to just do it, someone banged on the front door.

  Who the hell was coming to see him? It had to be someone he knew or the gate guard would’ve called up. Leah wouldn’t knock. Neither would Faith or Mina. Eli hadn’t answered his calls yesterday, so God only knew where he was. Probably with his dick of a dad.

  He stalked down toward the door, ready to tell whoever it was to go the hell away. But when he pulled it open, he found Billy on the other side, and the curses on his lips changed to a whole other level of angry.

  “What the fu—”

  “Save it.” Billy said harshly before Zach could complete the sentence. “You’re pissed at me. Fine. I don’t blame you.”

  “Then what the hell are you doing on my doorstep?” Zach said. “Not a smart move. You have about ten seconds to leave.”

  “You gonna call security on me?” Billy didn’t look worried.

/>   “I doubt I’d need security to deal with you, old man.”

  Billy shrugged. “Better men than you have tried, kid. So we can stand here having a pissing contest or you can let me in and I’ll tell you why I’m here.”

  He reached for the handle of the screen door, which was locked. It rattled as Billy tugged at it.

  Zach made no move to unlock it. “You have something to say to me? Say it from there.”

  One side of Billy’s mouth curled up. “You really are just like your dad, aren’t you? Arrogant little shit. All right. But you’re going to let me in.”

  “Why?”

  Billy held up a piece of paper that looked like it had been torn from a notebook. It was folded in half, nothing to be seen but the pale blue lines on the white paper. “Because of this.”

  “You trying to give me your phone number, Billy?” Zach said. “Don’t bother. I’ve got your number now.”

  “Yeah but do you have Davis Lewis’s?” Billy said.

  Zach’s eyes dropped back down to the piece of paper, he couldn’t help it. Davis Lewis? What the hell was Billy doing with Davis’s number?

  “Got your attention, did I?” Billy said. “So. Let me in and we’ll talk.”

  Zach had never wanted to tell someone to go screw himself quite badly. But over the desire to kick Billy to the curb, Jay’s voice floated through his head. You need something flashy. Something to get attention. Like the most famous producer in the world.

  He reached down and unlocked the door. “Come on in,” he said and turned and walked back to the kitchen without stopping to see if Billy was following him. He still didn’t look when he reached the fridge, pulled it open, extracted a beer, and twisted the top off.

  When he turned back, the chilled bottle too cold in his tightly clenched hand, Billy stood on the other side of the counter. “So talk,” Zach said, and took a swig of the beer.

  “Start drinking at this time of day and you’re going to end up more like your old man than you might want,” Billy said.

  Zach raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, well, coming from you that’s pretty much the pot calling the fucking kettle black, so let’s skip the part where you try to give me life advice like you care.”

  “Look, Zach, I realize you don’t like what I did.” Billy’s mouth flattened. “Hell, I’m not sure I like it myself.”

  “Then give me back the fucking slot.”

  “No can do. I told you. I need that slot. But I feel bad. And I know you want to make a splash, so I’m giving you this.” Billy held out the piece of paper.

  “Why do I want Davis Lewis’s number?”

  Dark eyes rolled at him. “Everybody wants that number.”

  “What makes you think I don’t already have it?” Zach asked. He took another sip of beer. The sour taste didn’t do much to mask the sour feeling in his stomach.

  “Maybe you do. But if you used it, he turned you down. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here recording with Eli and Leah, would you now?” Billy’s voice was matter of fact.

  Zach kept his face still with an effort. He wasn’t going to give Billy the satisfaction of seeing that he’d scored a hit. “Eli and Leah are doing an amazing job,” he said coldly.

  Billy shrugged. “I’m sure they’re good. But they can’t get you the same sort of buzz Davis will. He hasn’t worked with anyone new in quite some time. Doing your album with him will get you all the attention you need. Much more than just doing CloudFest would. There isn’t a record company on the planet who doesn’t want the next act anointed by Davis.” He put the paper down on the counter, pushed it toward Zach. “Take that. Make the call. He’ll take it.”

  “Him taking the call isn’t the same as him agreeing to work with me.”

  “I talked to him. I played him one of your tracks. You won’t have a problem.”

  “How the hell did you get one of my tracks?” Zach growled.

  “Eli was working on your stuff on the house system,” Billy said. “It wasn’t hard to find.”

  Apparently Zach was going to have to have a word with Eli about appropriate security measures. But that could wait. First he had to get his head around what Billy was offering him. “So you think I should just ditch Eli and Leah and go work with Davis?”

  “Eli won’t care, he’ll be happy for you,” Billy said.

  Zach wasn’t so sure about that. Eli’s producing was more important to him than he let on. “I’m pretty sure Leah will care.”

  “Because you’re sleeping with her?”

  Zach coughed, almost dropping the beer.

  “I’m not blind,” Billy said. “You two haven’t exactly been subtle about it. But you weren’t planning to stay here, were you? And she’s a smart girl. She knows that.”

  “I think it’s the me screwing her over professionally that she’ll be upset about,” Zach said.

  “So, pay her what you agreed. She’s no worse off than she was before.”

  That sounded so neat and tidy. But it wouldn’t be. It wasn’t money Leah wanted. She wanted the credit. The success that would make people want to work with her.

  “Look, Zach,” Billy said. “This is business. If you want what I think you want, if you want the fame and glory—the kind that Blacklight had—then there’s only one choice for you to make here. Call Davis. Then pack your bags and go wherever he wants you to go and make the best album you can.” His mouth twisted. “Trust me, you’ll regret it if you don’t. Spending your life thinking what might have been sucks. That’s what Danny and Shane and I have been doing since we lost Grey. And maybe I can never find what Blacklight had again but I’m damn well going to try. And you should try to. You’re good. You can be one of the best. But you have to be willing to pay the price.”

  The price being taking what he wanted and living with the consequences. He stared down at the piece of paper. Such a small thing. But then maybe all of life came to small things. Big choices in small moments.

  “You’ve worked for this for years,” Billy said. “Don’t fuck it up now because of sentiment. Make the call.” And then he turned and walked away.

  chapter eighteen

  By the time it hit two o’clock and Zach hadn’t made it to the studio, Leah was beginning to feel sick all over again. She’d settled his band into the rehearsal room and set them up with the tapes of the songs they’d recorded so far as well as some of her ideas about how the other parts should go, and that was keeping them occupied, but she could tell they were wondering what the hell was going on. So was she.

  Eli hadn’t shown up either. That was less surprising. Zach hadn’t answered any of Eli’s calls last night, and there’d been a few. Until the two of them talked, Leah suspected Eli would lay low. She couldn’t entirely blame him. He was between a very big rock and a very hard place stuck in the middle of Zach and Billy. But lack of Eli didn’t explain the lack of Zach.

  She looked at her phone. No messages. Should she call him? And what, have him avoid her calls too? He’d let her in last night but he’d been a million miles away, even when she’d been wrapped around him. She’d gone to bed with a sense of dread coiling in her gut that she hadn’t been able to shake. But Zach clearly hadn’t been ready to talk. Pushing wasn’t going to help. So she’d left him alone and come to the studio.

  But maybe that had been the wrong approach. Whatever was going on, they needed to talk. She hit the intercom button. All the studios were full at the moment, as were the rehearsal rooms but she could see from the system that no one was actively recording. And all the acts were bands or singers that had been here before and knew their way around the studio.

  “Hey everyone,” she said. “I have to go out. On my cell if anyone has any dramas. Or call the Harper Inc. offices. All the numbers are on the wall in the kitchen.”

  * * *

  The sick curl of dread was back, stronger than before, when she pulled up outside the guesthouse. It wasn’t closed up, so that was good, and Grey’s old truck was still out front. Thoug
h it wasn’t like Zach would’ve taken that with him if he’d gone.

  He’s not going anywhere, she told herself firmly. But the first thing she saw when she opened the door was a stack of guitar cases, and the chill that shivered down her spine stopped her in her tracks.

  Just taking them to the studio. That was all.

  She took a breath. Made herself move. She didn’t call out to Zach, just walked slowly through the house until she found him in the bedroom. Standing at the end of the bed, staring down at a nearly full suitcase.

  Her knees wobbled and she had to grab for the doorframe. He hadn’t seen her yet, which gave her a few seconds to remember how to breathe. How to speak.

  “Going somewhere?” she said eventually. The words stung her throat.

  Zach froze, a pile of jeans in his hands. He put them in the suitcase, very slowly closed the lid, and then zipped it shut. Then, just as slowly, turned around to face her. “Leah.”

  It was more breath than word.

  She needed to be calm. Not let him see she was freaked out already. She swallowed. Hard. “That’s me. But not an answer to my question.”

  “I—”

  “You’re leaving.”

  He nodded. “Davis Lewis changed his mind. He wants to work with me.” His voice was flat. Guarded. Cold.

  There was a chair near the door. She made it there before her knees gave out for real. He wasn’t just leaving. He was going to throw the work they’d done under the bus as well. “The album’s half done already.”

  “You’ll still get paid,” he said, looking back down at the suitcase. Not at her.

  The pain of it was like a slap. Unexpectedly ferocious. Followed by an equally unexpected rush of anger. He’d been planning to just bail. Not just on them. But on their work.

  “That isn’t the fucking point, Zach. I wanted the credit not the money.” It was easier to focus on the business part of this. It hurt slightly less than thinking about the other part. The part where he’d do this to her. The woman he was sleeping with. She’d thought he cared about her. Could she have been so wrong? She couldn’t think about that. She couldn’t make it through the conversation if she thought about that.