Cory's Dilemma

by Dan Petrosini

  “Yes. Proactively confront the threat and extinguish it.”

  Cory’s hand shook as he set his drink down. “Does that mean what I think it does?”

  Black’s eyes narrowed as he nodded.

  “How would you do something like that?”

  “We have our ways.”

  Cory liked that Black was tight-lipped, but hiring someone to deal with the blackmailer was something he never considered.

  “This is all crazy to me. I can’t even think straight.”

  “My job is to present options.”

  Cory poured a glass of bourbon and took a sip. “What about just scaring the person?”

  “In some rare cases it’s an effective strategy, but we’ve learned in the majority of cases it inflames a situation. You have to remember these individuals are mentally unstable.”

  “I don’t think this Bonner guy is going to go crazy.”

  “That’s a chance I’d be unwilling to take.”

  “I really appreciate the concern, and I’ll think about it, but I can’t, you know, do something like that.”

  “Give it some thought. If you’re not going to deploy bodyguards, then you really should be armed.”

  “I’m not comfortable carrying a gun.”

  “At the least, you should have one here. Someone breaks in, you’ll be able to defend yourself.”

  “This building is very secure. We have a front desk.”

  Black smiled. “My definition of secure is very different from yours, Mr. Lupinski. To size up the threat, I entered the building through a service door. Unfortunately, no one challenged me.”

  “I’m super surprised to hear that.”

  “Being surprised is something I work hard at preventing. You ever handle a firearm?”

  “Years ago. My uncle took me to the range every Saturday when I was fifteen or so.”

  “Good. I’ll have someone bring you a small-caliber pistol, one with a laser guide. Just keep it in the safe I’ll send with it.”

  “Don’t I need a permit or something?”

  “Technically you do. But make sure you keep it in the apartment. If you ever have to use it on someone breaking in or threatening you, you’ll be in the right.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Black stood. “Trust me on this, Mr. Lupinski.”

  “Okay.”

  Cory poured another drink, replaying the meeting. He stared at the picture of Joe Bonner. He was being blackmailed by a piano teacher? Was this how someone who had to resort to tuning pianos to pay the bills would strike back at someone who had made it?

  Bonner was getting old. Maybe his plan was to get enough money to finance his retirement and disappear. It was an idea, but the problem was greed. Cory knew most people could never have enough money. When they reached a financial target, an insecurity would make it insufficient. Bonner wasn’t going to go easily.

  He wondered exactly how Mr. Black would eliminate Bonner. Would they really kill him? It couldn’t be. They’d probably give him a beating, maybe break an arm or something to scare Bonner off. Black had said that scaring someone usually didn’t work, but Cory warmed to the idea of seeing his nemesis suffer.

  Bonner was a piano tuner, not a construction worker. Tae kwon do aside, he’d probably run for the hills if he got his ass kicked.

  If he could stop the blackmailing, everything would be good. He’d get back on track and convince Linda to get back together somehow. Cory knew Bonner wouldn’t be scared off by verbal threats. What Cory needed to find was the kind of pushback that couldn’t be denied.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  As the Uber came out of the Brooklyn–Battery Tunnel, Cory started thinking he should ask the driver to turn around. Coming here was a mistake, he thought. What if someone saw him? He put his collar up. He was becoming more recognizable by the day. Maybe someone would put things together.

  Traveling east on the Belt Parkway, the driver put the turn signal on. They got off the exit for Sheepshead Bay. Cory saw they were heading to the water. The car slowed as it turned onto Avenue Y.

  “Are we almost there?”

  “Yep, here we are.” The driver pulled over.

  Heart racing, Cory slumped down, looking at the two-story brick home. “Hey, I just got a text. I gotta go back to the city.”

  “You’re not getting out?”

  “No, take me back. I’ll pay you in cash if you want.”

  “Sure thing.”

  The driver made a U-turn, and Cory kept his eyes on the house until it faded from sight.

  * * *

  Tracy picked up the glasses and pizza box littering the coffee table. She said, “Come on, Cory. Coffee’s ready.”

  Barefoot, Cory came out of the bedroom. “I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

  “What’s bothering you?”

  “How about my wife is trying to take the kids away from me?”

  Tracy handed him a mug of coffee and opened the drapes. “What does your attorney say?”

  “He’s a fucking moron. Said there was no hearing regarding custody and that I’d get normal visitation. He thinks I’m being paranoid.”

  “He could be right.”

  Cory sipped his cup. “No way. I know Linda. That’s what she’s planning. I can feel it.”

  “How’s the coffee?”

  “Okay.”

  “Dave said the label wants you to do a series of appearances to boost the new material.”

  “Where are the singles?”

  “‘Circles’ dropped a little.”

  “Where is it?

  “Number sixteen.”

  “What? It never got higher than five. What about ‘Tropical Storm’?”

  “Didn’t make it on yet.”

  “What the hell?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s early. You do a couple of the late-night shows, and everything will be all right.”

  “I’m worried. ‘Circles’ is a killer tune.”

  “It is, but maybe releasing ‘Tropical’ wasn’t the right call. It didn’t give it the boost you’d normally expect.”

  “This is a disaster.”

  “Hold on, Cory. ‘Circles’ is still on the charts, and lots of songs fall off and come back stronger.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “No, it’s not. Take the Britney Spears album Oops, I Did it Again. It debuted at number two, then fell off quickly. But almost half a year later it was back in the top twenty and stayed there for a long time.”

  “That was way back when. It’s a totally different game now.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “A little hair of the dog. My head is killing me.”

  “It’s ten thirty, and we have a full day ahead.”

  “I only put a tiny taste in, so stop hassling me, will you?”

  “Look, I’ve worked with a lot of people in this business. I know how tough it is to stay on top, and I’ve seen a lot of stars screw their careers up with drinking. This is a little bump in the road and—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. What does the frigging day look like?”

  “First up is the marketing meeting at the label.”

  “Why do I have to go to that?”

  “Like I told you before, it shows you’re connected. You want them working as hard as possible to make this launch a success. They love it when an artist takes the time and interest to see what they’re doing.”

  “All right.”

  “Then we’ll hit a couple of radio stations for five-minute chats. We have WKTU at one, Z100 at two, and AT40 at two forty-five.”

  Cory frowned. “You’re going to kill me with all this.”

  “Come on, if you want the songs to do well, we have to promote them, especially with the . . . anyway, you need to shower.”

  “What’s with the especially crap?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me what the hell is going on? Is the label gonna drop me?”

  “No. Of course not.”r />
  “What is it, then?”

  “Bosco reviewed the album in the New York Times.”

  “How the hell did they get it?”

  “Come on, you know the label sends advance copies to the press.”

  “He hates me. What did that bastard say?”

  “It wasn’t that it was bad, it just wasn’t that good.”

  “Read it to me.”

  “You’re not supposed to read these. You have to ignore what the critics say. It’s the fans that count.”

  “Tell me what he said!”

  Tracy tapped her phone: “‘Cory Loop’s new album, Tropical Storm, is the follow-up to his wildly successful debut album, Loop Around. While the title tune and “Circles,” a catchy ditty with a funky bass line are mildly memorable, the balance of the songs left me wondering if Mr. Loop was lost at sea.

  ‘The lack of a consistent theme throughout the recording had me feeling that Mr. Loop had tacked toward a new style of expression. This critic is uncertain whether the change will work or whether Mr. Loop will join the cadre of one-hit wonders.’”

  “Great. He thinks I’m finished.”

  “No, he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter anyway. That’s the opinion of one critic.”

  “He thinks I’m going to end up like Carl Douglas.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “You see? You didn’t know Douglas did ‘Kung Fu Fighting.’ It was his one and only hit.”

  “You’re not a one-hit wonder. You forget you wrote five that charted?”

  “The bastard’s screwing me. I’m doomed.”

  “Don’t get down about it. It’s one review. We have the radio spots to do, and then we have . . .”

  As Tracy rattled off the rest of the schedule, Cory retreated to the bedroom. He popped three Adderall pills and swallowed them with his bourbon-laced coffee.

  Chapter Forty

  Feeling good after snorting two lines of coke, Cory stepped into the offices of Flat 13 Records. The receptionist always reminded him of his mother.

  “Nice to see you, Mr. Loop.”

  “Hiya, Diane. They treating you okay around here?”

  “Oh yes, sir.”

  “Maybe you can tell me what the secret is, then.”

  She held out a tissue. “Uh, your nose is bleeding.”

  He took it and dabbed his nose. “It’s nothing. I had a cold.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thanks.” Coming down the hall was his friend Donny and his agent, Dave. Cory said, “What’s he doing here?”

  “I’m not sure, but he had an appointment.”

  “When did he make it?”

  “Uh, I’ll have to look that up.”

  As they came into the reception area, Cory said, “Forget it.”

  Dave said, “Hey, Cory. How are you?”

  Donny said, “I didn’t know you were coming up.”

  “You would’ve changed your appointment?”

  Donny laughed. “No, it’s always good to see you, my man.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Dave said, “Nothing, just shooting the shit.”

  “About me?”

  “What?”

  “It’s a simple question, are you talking about me?”

  “No.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “Come on, Cory, lighten up. We’re not talking about you.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Donny said, “I don’t know what gave you that idea. But you’re way wrong, man.”

  “I remember you took piano lessons as a kid, didn’t you?”

  “Piano? What are you talking about?”

  “You used to go to a piano teacher.”

  “Oh man, that was a long time ago. I didn’t last long and switched to bass right away.”

  “Who was the teacher?”

  “Geez, I can’t remember his name.”

  “Was it Joe Bonner?”

  “Bonner? Maybe, it sounds familiar.”

  Dave said, “I hate to break up the reminiscing party, but Cory and I have to get to a meeting.”

  Donny walked away. “Have a good day, guys.”

  Dave said, “We’re in conference room B.”

  “What was he doing up here?”

  “Exploring his options.”

  “What options?”

  “Playing options, what else?”

  “What did he say about me?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me the truth.”

  “I am. Other than talking about your next tour.”

  “What about it? Is there something you gotta tell me?”

  He stopped before opening the door. “Take it easy, Cory. Nothing is going on. Let’s get this meeting going.”

  After the introductions, Cory and Dave sat at the far end of the walnut table. Cory couldn’t get his mind off Donny knowing Bonner. Could his friend be behind the blackmailing?

  As a presenter explained the marketing plan, Cory leaned over and whispered, “Are you sure Donny didn’t say anything about me?”

  “Absolutely. How do you like the marketing plan? I like the idea of tweeting out lyric lines.”

  “I never heard of that.”

  “And the video teasers, it’s not new, but they work.”

  “Did you hear that?”

  “What? About the ad campaign?”

  “No. Somebody said something about me being a one-hit wonder.”

  “You’re imagining things.”

  “No, I’m not, I heard it.”

  “Nobody said anything like that. Now, listen up, they’re talking about the release party.”

  Cory’s mind drifted back to Donny and Bonner. He was going to call Mr. Black as soon as this was over and have him find the connection. But what would he do when he found out they were working together? It was a betrayal even Hollywood couldn’t imagine.

  “Cory, we’re thinking of holding the release party at One Oak. How does that sound to you?”

  “Cory?”

  Dave elbowed Cory. “You on board with One Oak for the party?”

  “Sure.”

  “We’d really like to do a FB Live from the party. Is that something you’re okay doing?”

  “Yeah, I’m good with that.”

  “Excellent.”

  Cory leaned into Dave. “That guy keeps staring at me. Who is he?”

  “That’s Bryan. He’s not staring.”

  “He is so.”

  “I’m sitting next to you, and I didn’t see anything like that. You’re too sensitive.”

  “Sensitive?”

  “Keep it down.”

  As the discussion turned to the type of incentives to increase airplay, Cory turned to Dave. “I got a bad headache. Can I go now?”

  Dave stood. “Thanks, guys. This is really exciting. As you know, Cory has a series of radio show appearances today and needs to get going.”

  Cory thanked the group and slipped out the door. Dave was right behind him. “Hold on a sec.”

  Cory turned around. “What’s up?”

  “Where’s Tracy?”

  “Why? You need somebody to keep an eye on me?”

  “No, that’s not it at all. I just wanted to know—”

  “That’s bullshit. The label wants to keep tabs on me.”

  “Oh, come on, Cory, you’re making too much of a simple comment.”

  “Tell it to me straight, they want to dump me, don’t they?”

  “Who?”

  “The label.”

  “No. Where did you get that idea?”

  “I saw the way everybody was looking at me today.”

  “I don’t know what to say. Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m outta here.”

  * * *

  Cory poured himself a drink as soon as he got back in the apartment. The box the doorman had left was on the foyer floor. He was surprised by its weight. Cory opened it. Seeing the fingerprint reader, he knew it was the f
irearm safe.

  Cory pulled the safe out. Three boxes of bullets lined the bottom of the carton. He unlocked the safe with the key attached to it, pausing before lifting the lid.

  A handwritten note lay on top of a gleaming black pistol: “I’ve taken the liberty of loading the revolver. The safety lock is on. The red button activates the laser. Always use it. You have experience with firearms, but I recommend you go to a range and practice. I have several contacts that will make it easy for you. At the very least, watch a couple of YouTube videos to refresh your memory. I’ll be in touch.”

  Cory stared at the pistol. He gulped the rest of his drink down and picked the gun up. It was cold but fit his hand. He held it out with one arm, then used two hands like he’d seen on TV. He clicked the red button, and the laser came on.

  Cory pointed the laser at different spots. He smiled. Using the red dot as a guide made things super easy. He put the gun down and followed the instructions to program the safe with his fingerprint.

  He opened the second drawer in his nightstand and shoved the socks aside. Placing the safe in the space, Cory smiled at the thought that if anyone fucked with him now, he’d deal with them. Fast.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Cory jumped into the back of an Uber and called Mr. Black. It went to voice mail: “This is Cory. Call me as soon as possible. It’s an emergency.”

  Then he called Tracy. “Meet me at the apartment.”

  “The apartment? What about the meeting?”

  “It was all bullshit. Dave said it was okay to leave.”

  “But—”

  “Look, I made an appearance like you wanted. Meet me there.”

  “Wait there, we’ll pick you up at the station.”

  “No. I forgot something at the apartment.”

  Cory poured himself a drink and gulped half of it. He went to the bedroom and grabbed a bottle of Adderall off the nightstand. On the way back to the living room, he saw the manila envelope Mr. Black had given him.

  Cory sat down and took the picture of Bonner out. He stared at it, cursing the blackmailer. This was the man responsible for ruining his life, he thought. Cory shook two pills out and washed them down with bourbon.

  Thinking over Bonner’s connection with Donny, Cory replayed the last couple of times he was with someone he had considered his best friend. He remembered what Donny had said about being true to himself as an artist. Was he trying to signal that he knew about the stolen songs?