“Nah, not necessary. You can fill her in. Just kicking around some ideas.”
I decided to wait until our lunch meeting was over before letting her know. That way we could discuss Daris’ ideas.
I entered the conference room a minute later in good spirits. Daris had sounded surprised when I told him I was about to attend a meeting with his parents, remarking that he was relieved they had “finally made a decision.” Apparently, they had looked at several companies for their project, which meant they had completed their due diligence. Which made sense—even longtime friends had to make decisions based on factors other than relationships. As much as we wanted their business, we wanted them to be pleased with their investments.
I vowed silently to do whatever I could to assist them. Not only for my personal atonement, but because it was the right thing to do. And if Daris helped to resurrect Melanie’s career, I would be even further in his debt.
“Good morning, Carl, Dorothy. So good to see you again.” They rose, and I shook their hands in turn and looked at Gibson, who sat next to them. I nodded to him. “Gib.”
“Spencer.”
Any further conversation would wait, as Uncle John entered the room with his assistant, Amara Gabriel. She was about my age, and she handled Uncle John’s business affairs with a mixture of charming enthusiasm and the tenacity of a pitbull. A longtime family friend, her friendly yet professional demeanor was an asset for meetings like this.
Murmurs of greeting and introductions followed, and moments later, we were all seated. John turned to Amara, and she began handing out documents, describing the process going forward.
“This is an outline of today’s discussion. Feel free to add to this, as you all see fit. It is an evolving list of how we will move forward with the Avante Resort Project.”
Uncle John inclined his head toward the Avantes.
“Congratulations, by the way, on your purchase. We wouldn’t be discussing the development of your resort had it not been for my son here. His place in Tilly, Georgia, the Riverbank Resort, is doing quite well. His expertise in this area has proven to be quite an asset.”
John beamed at Gibson, who had the good grace to simply smile and incline his head. It was true, he had done a superb job at designing and building his resort. I had to give credit where it was due, so I added, “Absolutely. I haven’t stayed there yet, but it has become quite popular, I hear.”
The Avantes were obviously delighted and glowed with excitement. Carl glanced at me and back to Uncle John.
“We’re looking forward to the day when we open our own resort. And we’re so glad you’ll be assisting us with overseeing the operations.”
“Yes,” Dorothy added. “We aren’t getting any younger. We’re past trying to do everything ourselves.”
The rest of the meeting was more of a planning session. Gibson had drawn some sketches of the property with his ideas for layout of the buildings and recreational areas, and I showed them some examples of how we would market their type of resort. A task list was created of the steps that would follow, and Amara would convert everything to a project timeline chart everyone could share and update. The Avantes seemed pleased, if a little overwhelmed.
Carl shook his head.
“Whew! We have a big challenge ahead. I’m not sure why I decided to take this on at my age. I probably wouldn’t if I didn’t have all of you here.”
John beamed.
“You know we’ll take good care of you. My boys here know this business inside and out.”
Dorothy laughed, pointing at Gibson.
“Why, you got your start doing handy-man repairs at our house when you were just out of high school and in college. Remember? You even repaired our hot tub, before it was destroyed during that awful party Daris threw.”
We all laughed, but a stab of fear shot through my gut. I peeked at Gib, catching his side-long glance. Comprehension dawned in my mind, like an old movie revealing secrets you missed when viewed for the second time.
It was him. He was there.
He knew.
Chapter Eighteen
Melanie
Monday morning, I got a surprise call from Sacha, asking me to lunch. She was in town while Gibson took care of business, and I jumped at the chance to see her and the baby. We met at the little café near my apartment, where we’d had many long conversations in the past. I missed having her across the hall, available whenever I needed a shoulder. Or a kick in the ass.
I wasn’t quite sure which I needed right now. I was still worried about Mamma—although for the moment, she had seemed to stabilize. And Cissy said she had help, but who knew how long that would last?
I filled Sacha in on the whole drama of last week, and she had been sympathetic.
“It’s so frustrating when you don’t know what to do. Like when Jono is sick. I always imagine the worst.”
She bounced him on her knee, and he smiled a toothless baby-smile, looking quite robust at the moment.
Stabbing my salad, I found I had lost my appetite and moved the leafy greens around the bowl out of a nervous need for something to do. I hated this in-between stage I was in—no longer at home in Atlanta but not yet ready for Florida.
I set the fork down. It was time to be honest with myself.
“The thing is, I want to take care of my mom and help my sister and her kids. I really do. But now things are finally happening for me with the music. Well, maybe. That’s the hard part—I don’t know if this is just another scenario where I might get my hopes crushed. I’m not sure I could take it again.”
Sacha reached over and touched my arm. Her moss-green eyes reflected my anxiety back to me. I was supposed to be the strong one, the free spirit, the one who never gave a thought to anything but my music.
“I get it, Mel. It’s a tough decision. But if the universe has given you this opportunity out of the blue, shouldn’t you at least see it through? Otherwise, you’ll always wonder, won’t you?”
I couldn’t help but grin. Did she realize what she had just said?
“So…you approve of my relationship with Spencer?”
The slight blush on her cheeks revealed she hadn’t meant to go that far. She held Jono to her, handing him a small, soft toy which he promptly put to his mouth.
“Well, if he makes you happy, yes. This song you wrote together has you more excited than I’ve seen you in years. If Spencer had a part in that, then I approve.”
I basked in her approval for a moment before my anxiety returned.
“Worst case scenario, this song goes nowhere and it’s a happy memory for me to take to Florida. But I am hoping for the best, just one last time.”
She clapped Jono’s tiny hands together, saying, “Yay! Auntie Mel might stay!”
I fought back the sting of tears that nudged at my eyes.
* * *
Spencer
I sat in the back of the car as we inched through traffic. Road construction had delayed us, and Sean apologized like it was his fault personally. I assured him it wasn’t and texted Daris to let him know I’d be a few minutes late. It gave me time to process the situation I was in, now that I knew the truth.
Or was it the truth? Had Gibson really seen me that fateful night at Daris’ parents’ house? Maybe my guilt had finally pushed me over the edge, making me paranoid. Perhaps it was time to come clean to everyone, about everything. I had no good reason for the things I’d done, only that I had been young, foolish, and in an emotionally awful place. But would revealing the truth now only make things worse for everyone?
I had to make a decision and soon. Maybe Gibson had already told someone, and if word got out, I would never be able to explain.
Now I understood why he and I had been at odds for so long. It was a shame, but I wasn’t sure how to make things right.
When I arrived at the restaurant, Daris was seated in a booth at the back of the place, sipping on a martini. He smiled when he saw me, motioning for me to join him.
/>
“My pre-flight drink. I hate airplanes,” he confessed. “I plan on sleeping all the way to London.”
“I hope you have an uneventful flight.”
I ordered a scotch, and we chatted a few minutes about the menu. The server brought my drink, took our order, and left. Daris leaned over the table, his expression earnest.
“I’ll get right to the point, Spence. I want to produce your song.”
Relief rippled through me. Finally, the answer we’d been hoping for.
“That’s awesome news, D. Melanie will be thrilled. Her voice is perfect for that song.”
His smile flattened, and he licked his lips.
“Well, here’s the thing. I want the song, but not the singer.”
Crap. My grip tightened around the glass, and I threw back the amber liquid in one shot. This was not what I wanted to hear.
“Why not? She has a fantastic voice. I’m sure she’ll be open to your ideas, if you want to change it up.”
“You’re right, she does have a great voice, and she’s gorgeous. But she’s a throwback—not to mention she’s pushing forty at least. Right?”
“Yeah. So?”
Heat crept up my spine. His criticism of Melanie made me want to punch him, which I knew was irrational. But this was our song, and I wouldn’t just give it away to someone else.
“So, the song is perfect for Quira. The girl you met at the club. We recorded her album last week, but we didn’t have a great hook. Your song is it, man. Especially when we speed it up and add some effects. Quira will have a smash hit, and you’ll get your royalties. Everyone’s happy.”
My words tasted like poison in my mouth.
“Not everyone, Daris. Melanie needs a break. She’s a solid performer, she’s got the chops, the experience to do this song justice. It’s not about teenagers falling in love. This is an epic, tragic love story. Not some pop song that will be forgotten about in two weeks.”
His light brown eyes narrowed, almost to slits. This was a man who didn’t like being told no, but I wasn’t one of his sycophants. We had been best friends at one time, and that had to count for something.
“You know what, Spence? Music is your hobby, not your business. So, let’s get real. This isn’t about the message of the song, it’s about who will bring in the most money from this product. You’re a freaking billionaire, aren’t you? I’m not yet financially on that level, but you can bet your ass I soon will be, because I know my shit. This song will be a hit, with Quira.”
“I agree, you’re the producer. This is your industry. But I can’t see Melanie agreeing to this. She co-wrote the song, and we wrote it with her in mind as the singer. I doubt she’ll be willing to give it up. This has been her dream for many years.”
The server interrupted us with our food. I had lost my appetite, so the salad in front of me would sit untouched. My focus now was convincing Daris to give Melanie and our song a chance.
Daris, however, dug into his plate with gusto. After a few bites, he looked me in the eye, his expression serious.
“I get that. She’s worked hard, she has control of her performance. You can tell she’s a pro. But Forward Dream is not looking for older artists. I’ll put out some feelers, see if anyone is looking for her type of music. I know she’s your chick of the month, but this is business, dude.”
I leaned over the table so he could hear me. In a low, steely voice, I gave him my opinion of his assessment.
“Fuck you, Daris.”
I stood, throwing a hundred-dollar bill on the table to cover my lunch and for a show of my disdain. He stared at it, and I walked away. I had only taken a few steps when I heard his response.
“You owe me.”
I froze. I knew he wasn’t talking about the lunch. I returned to the table. What choice did I have?
“Come on. You can’t be serious. Dude.”
I had thrown his flippant attitude back at him, which was foolish. But my anger had yet to subside, even though I knew he had the upper hand at the moment.
“I’m deadly serious. I’m calling in my favor on this one.”
Memories flashed like lightning in my mind. The party had happened the night my father died. It was the reason I wasn’t there for him. It was the reason the Avantes’ house was damaged, their car stolen, and it was the reason Daris had been arrested.
And it was all my fault.
I had promised Daris after the ordeal, that someday, someway, I would repay him for his silence. Seventeen-year-old me had believed that my word was enough. Deep in grief and remorse, unable to face the consequences of my actions, I had let him take the fall for me. My damaged heart and weakened mind believed it was the right thing to do. At the time, Daris had even insisted on keeping our secret, that was how loyal a friend he was.
That’s why I couldn’t deny him now. I owed him my life, and I had promised him I would do whatever he wanted whenever he needed me.
I had never understood what that might mean until now.
Chapter Nineteen
Melanie
By Thursday evening, I was exhausted. Reb, Donna, and Mackie had helped me pack up all of my belongings, lug them to the storage unit, and even scrubbed down my apartment. What would have taken me weeks by myself took only days with their help. I was going to miss them like crazy.
I took them out for pizza afterwards, at a place we once played on open mic night. As we finished our third pitcher of beer, the conversation became maudlin.
“Miss Mellie,” Reb drawled, his Alabama accent growing thicker with each beer. “You can’t go. I have decreed it.”
“Have you? Well, that’s it. Guess I’m staying.”
We all laughed, but it was becoming more of a possibility with each passing day. Spencer had informed me that Daris said he loved the song and wanted to produce it. When Daris returned from his trip to London, we would have a business meeting to seal the deal. I had just broken the news to them, unable to keep it to myself any longer.
Donna reached across the table to give my hand a squeeze in a rare moment of affection.
“Well, your record deal is the best damn news I’ve heard in a while. I might even forgive you for making us move your stuff and then deciding to stay in Atlanta.”
“I guess I’ll be back and forth, at least until we see what happens with the song.”
Mackie raised his mug, and we all followed suit.
“Here’s to The Theory of Us, may it sell a gazillion copies!”
We clinked mugs and drank to our future success. My good fortune would ultimately lead to theirs, because there was no way I was going to leave them behind. I had contacted the video producer Daris had introduced me to, and although I hadn’t heard back, there was a good chance we’d be able to play for him. I’d told them about it, and they’d already had ideas for a music video.
It was the best chance Sparker had ever known, so we had to have faith.
“It’s a great song, so I think it will. Daris and his crew at Forward Dream are really excited. So am I.”
“If anyone deserves a break, it’s you, Mel. But we’ll be right behind you.”
My throat clammed up, but I managed to get the words out. “I love you guys. Thank you for always being there for me.”
“We love you, too.”
They had all murmured it, acting embarrassed, but I knew it was true. Nothing binds friends together like a common goal. I promised to keep them informed of events as they unfolded, and we called it a night.
Later, I arrived at Spencer’s condo with the remainder of my clothes in an overnight bag. I had been reluctant to stay with him but found I missed him something fierce when we were apart. I would be leaving for Florida on Saturday to check on Mamma, Cissy, and the kids, anyway, so we could spend some time together until then. We had both been busy, me with moving my stuff and him with work, and then the party for his aunt tomorrow night, so tonight was our only chance for some quality alone time.
I was looking f
orward to making the most of it and had my best lingerie in my bag for that purpose. He had seemed distracted the few times we’d talked this week, so I figured some sexy time might do us both some good.
Donning the short, black nightie, paired with my yellow lace panties for a nod to the first time we made love, I strolled into the living room where Spencer was sitting on the sofa. He was typing a message into his phone and didn’t see me. I stood in front of him, my knees brushing his.
He looked up, his eyes flashing worry for a moment, replaced by an appreciative glance up and down my torso.
“Hello,” he said in a sotto voice. “You look comfortable.”
I removed his phone from his hand and tossed it aside, straddling his lap. “Now I am.”
We kissed, a long, slow sensuous pressing of lips. Our tongues tangled, and I pulled him to me. It was exciting as always, but something was off. I sensed he wasn’t fully with me, so I sat back, still facing him. His eyes held an apprehension I hadn’t seen since that night I almost ran out, and his voice was guarded when he spoke.
“What’s wrong, love?”
“You tell me, Spencer. You’ve been acting strangely all week.”
“It’s nothing.”
“So, there’s an ‘it’? Then ‘it’ must be important. What’s bothering you?”
That far-away look had returned. He was holding back, and now it would bug the crap out of me until he told me. I moved from his lap to sit next to him and took his hand. He squeezed mine in a reassuring gesture and turned to face me.
“I’ve just been worried about some things going on at work. Nothing I can’t handle, though.”
“It’s obviously weighing on you. I sensed something was bothering you this week. You can talk to me about anything, you know.”
A thousand emotions crossed his face in the space of a few seconds. His usually confident demeanor may fool people who don’t know him well. But we had been intimate enough that I could see he was holding back. I gave him a look of encouragement, and he sighed.
Not So Wrong: Love Grows series, Book Two Page 18