by Francis Ray
Zach arrived at LAX a little after 2:00 AM. He was on his BlackBerry the moment the flight attendant gave the clearance. He needed every moment to put his plan into motion.
“I care about you, Laurel. Please call me.” Zach disconnected the BlackBerry and sat back against the backseat in the Bentley. Toby had picked him up.
He knew she wasn’t sleeping any more than he had. He hadn’t even tried on the plane. He’d managed to snag the last seat on the last flight leaving for LA that night.
While waiting for his flight, he’d received a phone call from Sabra and Laurel’s mother. Knowing he deserved every harsh word they said to him, he’d listened. The difficult part came when her mother had talked of her “baby” and not being able to go to her.
“I hear there’s a possibility that you might care about Laurel, that you never intended to hurt her,” she said.
“I do. I handled things wrong, but I’m going to do everything in my power to win her back,” he said earnestly.
“If you can’t, then you and I are going to have a talk.” The phone had gone dead.
Laurel was loved, but he knew that it wouldn’t help her get past what she saw as his betrayal. When he’d asked Carmen to marry him before he took off to LA, she’d refused in the harshest, most ego-denting way. Nothing Paige or his mother said eased the feelings of dejection, or made him believe his world would ever be the same. His father had said it served him right.
He’d picked up the ring and left the next day for LA as planned. He’d kept the ring with the idea of making it big and then asking Carmen to marry him again. By the time he’d become a success, she was married. He’d donated the ring to a charity auction to help retired musicians, and moved on with his life.
This time he wasn’t going anywhere. His feelings weren’t going to fade or change. They would only grow stronger. He’d show Laurel that she was the most important thing in the world to him. He had to. He couldn’t go on otherwise.
He had one chance to keep Laurel in LA. She’d see it as further evidence that he had an ulterior motive for seeking her out. He might have gone to this extreme length before he saw her sitting at the dining table, kissed her, but after that she, not the album, became the driving reason he wanted to be with her.
Looking down at the BlackBerry a little after eight in his home office, Zach placed another call. It would either bring Laurel back or push her away forever. “David Peterson, Zachary Wilder calling.”
Forty-two minutes later Zach was in the backseat of his Bentley. Traffic on the freeway was horrible as usual, but soon they were downtown. Toby found a rare parking space and zipped in. Zach reached for the door the moment he came to a stop. Time wasn’t on his side. Laurel would want to go home to Nashville to try to forget him. He couldn’t allow that.
He entered the spacious lobby of Arial Records and headed straight for the receptionist. “Zachary Wilder to see Mr. Peterson.”
The redhead with spiked hair pressed her hand to enhanced breasts that strained against the red silk blouse she wore. “Certainly, R.D., I mean Mr. Wilder. James will escort you to the fifteenth floor. Ms. Sims, Mr. Peterson’s personal assistant, will be waiting for you once you get off the elevator.”
“This way, Mr. Wilder,” James said. The security guard extended his arm toward the elevator.
“Thank you.” Zach saw that another guard was holding the elevator for him. People were grumbling about the elevator not being used, but as he passed the whispers grew louder. He was recognized, and people were speculating on the reason for his visit.
Zach stepped into the chrome-and-glass enclosure. He could just imagine their surprise. He didn’t go to CEOs, they came to him. He’d learned early in life that the more inaccessible you were, the greater your value. It was that way in his parents’ circle of friends, and even more so in entertainment. People tended to value what they couldn’t have.
The doors of the elevator glided open. An attractive brunette in a three-piece business suit extended her hand. “Ms. Sims.”
“Yes. Good morning, Mr. Wilder. Mr. Peterson is waiting for you in his office. Please follow me.”
“Good morning, and thank you.” Zach followed the straight-backed woman down a long hallway lined with photos of recording artists whose albums and songs had gone gold or platinum. It was a respectable showing, but meager when compared with other labels. He noted with pride that Laurel had the most platinum albums.
Arial Records was an old, conservative label that had just started signing pop artists. The potential for growth was there, but their artists needed guidance and exposure. Zach, R.D., could give that to them. Peterson, the newly appointed CEO, had contacted Zach’s agent about him producing albums for Arial, but he hadn’t been interested.
Until now.
Opening a door, she stepped aside for Zach to enter. He saw three men waiting for him and extended his hand to Peterson, a slim man in his late sixties in a charcoal Brioni suit. The other two were just as well dressed, but stockier in build.
Zach had done a thorough search on the label before he’d had his agent contact Laurel’s agent. He knew the man on the left in his early forties was the director of marketing. The other man was the CFO. All three had been with the label less than two years and were reportedly responsible for the new vision and inclusion of once “too progressive” artists.
“Zach Wilder. Thank you, Mr. Peterson, so much for meeting with me on such short notice.” Zach extended his hand.
“A pleasure, Mr. Wilder.” Peterson’s handshake was strong, his gaze direct and friendly. “Since you wanted to talk business I thought it might be a good idea to have Sam Morris, the marketing director, and Ted Keats, the chief financial officer, join us.”
“Good thinking,” Zack said and shook hands with the other two men. “A pleasure, Mr. Morris. Mr. Keats.”
“The pleasure is ours,” Morris said, his gaze a little glazed. Zach thought it was probably due to him trying to add up how much Zach’s association with the record label would mean in sales. Keats was a little more reserved.
“Let’s go into my office,” Peterson said. Ms. Sims rushed to open the door. “Do you want coffee or anything?”
“No, thank you, but please go ahead if you want.” Zach entered the plush office and took the seat indicated at a polished round oak table with seating for six. Peterson and Morris sat on either side of him.
“Now,” Peterson said, as he took a seat and placed his arms on the table. “Your phone call mentioned you had a plan that would be financially beneficial to both of us. I’d like to hear it.”
This was it. “I’d like to produce Laurel Raineau’s next album.”
Way before the first light of dawn, Laurel decided to be on the first available flight to Nashville before the day was over. A phone call from her agent shortly after noon changed those plans. No matter what Laurel said, her agent insisted the meeting at her house was crucial to her career. The CEO, David Peterson, was coming with her for the meeting at 2:00 PM. Her agent was all aflutter. Peterson didn’t go see his clients, they came to him—if he had the time.
Reluctantly, Laurel had agreed and booked the last flight out for Nashville. She’d called her mother and spoken to her briefly. Sabra had been on the set of her new movie, so Laurel had spoken to Pierce.
“Wherever you are, we’re coming Wednesday,” Pierce said.
Two days. Laurel knew it wasn’t a request. She just hoped by then that she’d feel more like seeing someone. She’d hung up the phone and gone to ask the cook to prepare a light snack. People in Los Angeles always seemed to be drinking and eating. She thought of Zach cooking for her, them laughing over the meal, and pushed thoughts of him away. It would take time, but she’d forget him.
When the doorbell rang at exactly two, she was there to answer. Seeing the jovial face of Peterson and the perpetually happy one of her agent, Alice Betts, Laurel let out a relieved sigh. No matter that Rio had assured her that Lee and his men would be
silenced, she couldn’t keep from worrying. “Good afternoon, Mr. Peterson, Alice. Please come in.”
“Hello, Laurel.” Alice kissed the air on each side of her cheeks.
Peterson gave her a brief and friendly hug. “Hello, Laurel. You look wonderful as usual. Alice said you just returned from a short vacation.”
“Thank you.” Laurel smiled. Sabra wasn’t the only Raineau with acting ability. “Why don’t we go into the solarium? The cook has prepared a light meal, if you’re hungry.”
Peterson chuckled. “I did miss lunch.”
“Same here,” Alice said. “Laurel is always the perfect hostess. Comes from her being a southern lady.”
“We’re proud of her and her music,” Peterson said.
“Let’s go to the solarium.” Laurel led them to one of her favorite rooms in the house. Both she and her mother loved flowers. The high-ceilinged room was filled with them. Today there was also a tray of bite-sized sandwiches and fruit on a side table. “Please help yourself. I’ve already eaten.” Laurel didn’t wince at the lie, just waited patiently as Peterson and Alice filled their plates. “What would you like to drink?”
“White wine,” Alice said.
“Make that two,” Peterson added.
Laurel refused to think of her and Zach sharing a glass of wine in the hammock and watching the sunset. She placed the glasses on the small dining table in the room and waited for them to take their seats before taking her own.
“Laurel, your last album did very well for us.” Peterson finished off his sandwich and placed up a bit of salmon on a cracker.
“Platinum.” Alice winked at Laurel. “The next one will go double platinum.”
“I was happy with gold.” Laurel ignored Alice’s frown.
“I have every belief that Alice is right.” Peterson shoved his plate aside and wiped his hands with the linen napkin.
“I’ve been thinking that perhaps we should delay going into the studio for a month or so,” Laurel said, trying to appear calm instead of desperate.
Her agent looked surprised and stopped eating. Questions swirled in her eyes.
Peterson shook his graying head. “Impossible. As you’re aware, the release date of your album is already set. You’re scheduled to go into the studio tomorrow.”
She was ready for this. “Hall produced my last two albums. He won’t mind the delay.”
“Hall won’t be producing this time,” Peterson told her, his blue eyes direct. “We have a rare opportunity, and we need to jump on it.”
Laurel’s pulse skittered. She willed herself to calm down and not jump to conclusions.
“What is it?” Alice asked, turning to him. “You said you wanted to tell us at the same time.”
Peterson linked his hands on the table. “You might be the luckiest musician in this town. Everyone wants him and he wants you.”
Laurel’s heart lurched. Just hearing the words of a man wanting her shouldn’t remind her of Zach and send heat spiraling through her. “Yes. Who?”
“Zach Wilder. Rolling Deep. He came to my office this morning and specifically asked to produce your next album.” Peterson grinned and leaned back in the chair. “We’ve been after him for months for three of our other clients and we’ve always met with a polite but firm no.”
“No.” Laurel rose unsteadily to her feet. “I won’t work with him.”
He frowned. “What?”
“Wilder already tried to get Laurel to work with him.” Alice motioned Laurel to take her seat before turning to Peterson. “She refused because of his unsavory reputation.”
Peterson waved her words aside and leaned forward once again. “Media hype. Artists are lined up to work with him, but as a free agent he can pick and choose. The word is already out that he was in my office. Since he left, two recording artists we were trying to sign said they’d come on if he produced their album. He’s money in the bank.”
“No,” Laurel repeated, reluctantly sitting down at the repeated motion to do so from her agent. She couldn’t let her temper get the best of her.
The smile slid from Peterson’s face. “You’ll go into the studio tomorrow with Wilder.”
“Impossible.” Just the thought of seeing Zach made her stomach knot. “There’s no way I’m letting him produce my next album.”
“Your contract says the studio has final approval on the producer, and it’s Wilder.” His eyes hard, he turned to the agent. “Tell her.”
Alice gulped and looked as if the food she’d eaten might not stay down. “He’s right.”
Laurel felt her body tremble. She couldn’t face him knowing he’d used her. There has to be a way. Think. “I don’t have to go into the recording studio at the same time. I can just send the files to him. Just like I did with Hall. Wilder can add the instrumentals later.”
Peterson was shaking his head before she finished. “Wilder wants to work directly with you. His reason, and it’s a good one, is that if he has suggestions on a particular piece, it makes more sense to work on it then.”
Her temper flared. “I don’t need him telling me how to play the violin!”
“Laurel, I’m sure that isn’t what David is implying,” Alice soothed.
“No, and since you’ve had artistic freedom on all of the albums you’ve done with us, before and after I became CEO, you should know that.”
Laurel accepted the reprimand. “Then let me send him the files.”
“You’ll be in the studio at ten on Tuesday.”
He wasn’t backing down, and neither was she. She came to her feet and placed both hands on the tabletop. “This is the last album of my contract. If you force me to go into the studio with him, it will be my last.”
Her agent’s sharp intake of breath cut through the room.
Peterson shook his head. “You’re one of our bestselling artists and we both know it. You’ve been with us since you went professional. I’d hate to lose you, but if you work with Wilder, he’s promised to work with three other artists.”
“Is what he wants more important and the lure of his sordid reputation more important than what I want?” Laurel asked. “Alice knows other labels have tried to lure me away, but I’ve stayed. You can’t be man enough to show the same loyalty?”
Alice frantically shook her head. Laurel ignored her.
Anger turning his face red, Peterson slowly came to his feet. “You’re upset, Wilder said you would be. He mentioned he had tried to speak with you, but his agent hadn’t been able to get past Alice.”
Zach hadn’t mentioned their affair in Mexico. She was too angry to be thankful.
“He believes in your music. He brought your last recording to show instances where it could be improved on. The mixing and mastering weren’t as seamless and as fluid as they should have been. There were places where the sound level wasn’t good.” Peterson rounded the table.
Secretly, Laurel had thought the same thing. She liked Hall, but the producer and the audio engineer he’d worked with hadn’t been as thorough as she’d wished.
“He’s given a lot of thought to this. We’d be stupid to turn him down. Your album will automatically get exposure it hasn’t gotten in the past. I wouldn’t be surprised it if debuted in the top ten on Billboard, something that has never happened before.”
“I said no, and that’s what I meant.”
“Alice, please tell your client she doesn’t have any choice,” Peterson said, his gaze never leaving Laurel’s. “It took a lot of rearranging to get the studio and the people he wanted. Not one said no.”
They haven’t been betrayed and used. Her chin lifted. “All right, but once the album is over, I’m walking. I won’t do one thing to promote it.”
The man looked pained. “I’m hoping you’ll change your mind about staying and about Wilder when you work with him.”
“Not likely. Was there anything else?”
Peterson blew out a frustrated breath. “No, I’ll see myself out. I’ll wait for you in
the car, Alice.”
A nervous and flustered Alice rushed to her as soon as Peterson left the room. “Laurel, I know you didn’t want to work with Wilder, but Peterson is right. This could bring you international fame and put you that much closer to your dream of playing in the Venice opera house.”
“The price would be too high. I loathe him,” Laurel said and walked to the window. “Start looking for another label.”
“Laurel, Arial had been very good to you. Per—”
Laurel swung back around, her gaze narrowed and determined. “Do I need to look for another agent as well?”
Alice gasped, her dark brown eyes widened in alarm. “No. I work very hard for my clients, and you know it.”
She did. Alice could be a pit bull on her clients’ behalf. “I’m sorry.” Shaking her head with regret, she went to the older woman. “Just start looking for another label. Maybe once Peterson finds out, he might relent and I won’t have to leave.”
The agent perked up immediately. “Great idea. I’ll get right on it.” Hugging Laurel, Alice hurried from the room.
“Zach, you think you’ve won, but I’ll show you.” Her eyes narrowed, she went to phone and dialed.
Eight
Zach knew from the moment Laurel entered the studio Tuesday morning with her two samurai that things were off to a bad start. With her chin high, she looked right through him and warmly greeted the audio engineer, standing a few feet away.
“Good morning, Ms. Raineau,” Zach said as if she hadn’t ignored him. “I’m aware that you have some reservations about your association with me and my ability to produce an album you’ll be proud of. By the time we’re finished, I hope to have changed your mind.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
Silence descended in the studio. People tended to fawn over him. Laurel wasn’t the fawning type. At least there were no tears. At least he hoped not. She had on large-rimmed sunglasses.