“Wouldn’t that be using him?” I whispered to Jen quickly.
Just as they stepped closer, Jen said, “Yeah. So?”
Bright and early, I grabbed a cup of coffee and settled into my home office. Although my role as agent to Cannon really hadn’t begun, I had started my week creating a to-do list that needed to be done as soon as he signed the contract.
First on my agenda was to list the tasks I’d be handling for Cannon. The role of an agent and manager were sometimes muddled, depending on the band’s needs. With Cannon being my only client, I planned to wear both hats. I wanted to be clear I’d be handling as much as possible, leaving him to concentrate on performing and recording.
I had no issue getting my hands dirty, lending an ear if he needed one, calling a club if he wanted to play there. These were all things Jen never handled for DL, and because of it I believe it hampered their relationship with her. Yes, in essence Cannon worked for me, but I equally worked for him. Jen had never achieved that balance with her band. Being so close to the rock stars she represented had given me a front-row seat to all the gripes they had with her.
What I would use her for were the things she could do with her eyes closed. For example, planning the perfect tour, negotiating somewhat unreasonable terms with the label, getting more money. I had some experience with those things, but Jen was a pro, having more than a dozen tours under her belt, including internationally.
Knowing I’d be discussing Cannon’s contract today, I had scheduled to sit with Jen the next day to review his concerns, plan out his debut tour across the country, and pick her brain on things I may not have thought to ask for.
The more things I jotted down, the more excited I became. I really believed in Cannon’s talent, and I could envision his success.
As I sipped my coffee, I thought about the man behind the music. That first night we’d met, his performance had impressed me. Little bits and pieces of his personality that I’d seen come through intrigued me. Whatever it was that ran so deep in his blood placed a huge chip on his shoulder. I’d need to gain his trust before I could know who he really was. Hopefully that would come with time.
I knew he was scheduled to play up in Pasadena on Thursday night. Maybe I’d pay Mr. Davis an unscheduled visit, see how the crowd responded, see how he interacted with them without the knowledge I’d be there, like the first time. Slip in, watch from the shadows, and slip out.
My cell ringing caused me to jump, and the person calling caused me to smile. “Hey, my friend,” I said when I accepted the call.
“Lor! How are you?” Leila’s cheerful voice came over the line, and instantly I felt homesick.
“Except for missing you, I’m great.”
“Aw, I miss you too. We all do.”
I glanced at the time and asked, “Shouldn’t you be at the studio, or is that dictator you married slacking?” With all that had gone down in her life over the past six months, I knew the band was behind in preparing for the tour, and Jack was stressing over it.
“I heard that.” Jack’s deep voice popped through. “Hey, Lor.”
“Hey, Jack. So you miss me too?” I teased. Jack and I had an understanding. He accepted my antics, and I had allowed him to marry my bestie.
“Sure,” he said, not all too convincingly.
“Liar.”
“I miss you because my wife misses you.”
That twinge of jealousy I always felt around those two pinched in my gut. I was truly happy for my friend, and the more I witnessed that profound connection between them, the more I doubted it would ever happen for me.
For Jack, the sun rose and set on his wife, and the man had no issues showing the world as much. Leila was just as deep in love with him, and together they were raising four gorgeous kids while riding the wave of success.
“You can’t see me, Lair, but I’m dry heaving.”
“Forget him. Lori, tell us about this Cannon guy.”
“Well, we’re flying to Texas next week to sign the contract.”
“That’s fantastic! I’m so happy for you.” Jack echoed Leila’s sentiments before she asked, “Has Jen been behaving?”
“Yeah, for the most part.” My deliberate pause and heavy sigh caused Leila to giggle.
“Gotcha. Code for you’ll tell me next time I call when Jack isn’t with me. Correct?” Leila accurately predicted I had a lot to tell her.
Ignoring Jack’s grumble, I grinned on my end and quickly said, “Bingo. Call me when you’re alone.”
“Will do.” She giggled at something, and I suspected it was a snide comment from her husband. “I’ll try and call you tomorrow. The twins had a doctor’s appointment this morning. I just wanted to check in with you before our day started. I love you and miss you so much. Alisa sends her love, too, as do all the guys.”
“Tell them I said hi.” Tears welled and a lump of sadness settled in my throat, knowing that blanket statement didn’t include Trey. “Any other calls from Trey?”
Leila sighed over the line before uttering a quiet, “No.”
After our affair, I’d begun seeing Matt and Trey had met Tara. She’d changed him in every way every woman before her had tried to do. He had found his other half in Tara, and we were all so happy after the tragic upbringing he had gone through.
And then, without sense, they’d had a motorcycle accident this past February, and Tara hadn’t survived. Losing her had been worse than death, and he’d spiraled out of control while fighting his sorrow.
It’d been a long six months, and at times we’d all thought we would lose Trey as well, but he finally pulled out of the black hole of despair that had swallowed him whole. Now he occasionally reached out to his bandmates to let them know he was okay, but otherwise Trey hadn’t played with them since before Tara’s death.
“We’re trying to stay optimistic that he’ll eventually come back to us,” Leila went on to say. “He’s come a long way.”
“I know. Keep me posted. I love you, Lei.” And as an afterthought I added, “You too, Jack.”
“Yeah, yeah. Behave and don’t get arrested. My wife doesn’t have time to come bail you out.”
They said their goodbyes, leaving me aching for my friends and all I’d left behind in New York.
Chapter 7
Cannon
I had wanted to call some of those references Lori had given me, but I didn’t. I’d also wanted to call my mom to fill her in on my news, but that didn’t happen either. What I had spent most of my week doing since seeing Lori at that damn party on Saturday was writing songs. A surge of creativeness had caused three new pieces to be born, so I guess all wasn’t lost.
Another positive besides my new material was that I now had an entertainment lawyer. Liam had finally surfaced some time Sunday afternoon after having hooked up with Blake’s assistant. He’d made a few calls for me and was given the name of one of the most reputable attorneys in Los Angeles. I may or may not have guilted him into it for ditching me.
Slowly, my career path toward stardom was formulating.
But for tonight, I looked forward to doing what I did best. Parking my pickup truck in a lot down the street from The Green Rabbit, I grabbed my guitar case and headed for my gig.
Most musicians scheduled their appearances on Fridays and weekends for obvious reasons, but I liked to perform all days of the week. I believed that the people out and about on, say, a Monday, or a Thursday, had a reason to be. And if I were able to improve their evening with my art, then that could gain a true fan. I also enjoyed the smaller crowds. It gave me the opportunity to study their reactions to my songs.
The August heat made for a hot, humid night, worsening the air quality that many Californians grumbled about. Where most hated the smog, I appreciated the ethereal aura it cast over the city… a constant state of haze. In my opinion, it made the world look less harsh.
I loved playing in Pasadena once every few weeks. With three colleges within a five-minute drive, the crowd w
as a mix of art students, brainiacs, and California bohemians. I had found this place on one of my explorations of SoCal, popped in for a drink, and made friends with the owner, Bobby O’Neill.
He’d wanted to add live entertainment for some time, and once he’d learned I was a musician, he’d given me a shot. He and his brother owned the place, and now local artists played there most nights of the week, covering all different musical genres.
Even though I had an open-door invite, if someone canceled or they weren’t able to fill a spot, they’d usually call me to step in. Because The Green Rabbit had always been so good to me, I tried to help them out as much as I could.
Just stepping through the door had my adrenaline spiking. A handful of the tables were occupied, one of them holding a large group of females who looked no older than me. I nodded in their direction as I walked by, spurring a round of chatter and giggles to erupt in my wake.
Okay, maybe I played it up a bit in my saunter and smirk… all part of the marketing involved in selling myself. I wasn’t a dumbass.
“Hey, there’s the boy,” Bobby called out in his Irish brogue when he saw me. “How they hangin,’ Cannon?”
“Same as always,” I said with a grin. We shook hands as I took a seat at the bar. “Good crowd.”
“Aye, not bad at all.” He lifted his goateed chin toward the gals near the stage. “Birthday pah-tee… students at the College of Design. They only climbed out of their cabs an hour ago and are already three sheets to the wind. Me need to watch that bunch closely tonight.”
Bobby always made it his business to know who came into his bar. Since meeting him, I had witnessed when he confiscated car keys and called people cabs on his dime. He also enjoyed playing matchmaker by sending a drink over to a woman, or man, he thought would be a good fit for one of his regulars. If they paired up, a Polaroid of them was added to Bobby’s Wall of Grá, which means love in Gaelic.
His brother, Sean, was a lot less personable, and he therefore left the bar side of The Green Rabbit to Bobby while handling the business side instead.
“Where’s Sean?”
“On me tod.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“You Americans say it like—ridin’ solo.” Bobby winked at my nod and slid my favorite beer on tap across the bar. “Ready to go up, boy?”
I nodded before taking a sip. “Whenever you want.”
“Drink ya beer and then have it a go.” Taking a few minutes to study the crowd, I finished my ale while Bobby served other customers.
Once he noticed that I had taken a seat on the stool centered in a small patch of worn wood flooring that served as the stage, he picked up a microphone from where it was plugged in near the register. Allowing it to screech and hum, he said, “Ladies and gents, it gives me pleasure to introduce—Cannon Davis.”
Chuckling at his typical no-nonsense introduction, I smiled at the crowd while they applauded and waited for the shrill whistles coming from the college gals to cease. Bobby dimmed the lights just as I said, “Thanks. I appreciate it. Hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to use you all as my guinea pigs tonight and play some new songs I threw together recently. Let me know what you all think.”
The enthusiasm they displayed after my introduction amplified, and once it died down, I jumped right in and strummed the opening chords to a brand-new song. “Okay, everyone. Here’s a new one I wrote yesterday. This is called ‘Better.’”
The lyrics came as quickly tonight as they had when I’d first jotted them down. I concentrated on my performance, channeling the meaning behind the words and allowing it to carry my voice in tune to the music.
As my vocals and fingers collaborated harmoniously, I alternated my focus between the guitar I brought to life and the visions behind my closed eyelids. Every so often, I’d glance out into the darkened bar to make sure they weren’t chatting among themselves. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see the expressions on their faces, because if their focus was on me, then I knew they were absorbing what I sang.
Just before I returned my attention to my guitar, a flash of auburn hair beneath the exit sign’s glow almost caused a fumble that would be hard to recover from. But I managed to continue, singing each word with conviction in case my captured audience also included my soon-to-be agent.
Trying to suppress the urge to keep glancing her way, I continued through the song, performing the fuck out of it.
I’m better than him… just give me five minutes to prove it.
That’s all it would take to make you mine.
As soon as I flattened my fingers against the strings, the bar exploded with applause. “Thank you. Thanks so much,” I said over the noise.
A stunning brunette suddenly strolled toward where I sat on my stool, encouraged by the catcalls and “Go, Raina!” chants that trailed behind her. I smiled at the paper “Birthday Girl” crown she wore on a head of unruly chestnut curls.
“Make my birthday wish come true, Cannon,” she said, slipping me a bar napkin with her name and number.
“That’s a lot of pressure,” I teased with a wink.
Her hand lingered in mine, the napkin now crushed between our fingers. “I have faith in you.” With that, she patiently walked her tight little ass back to her table, grinning when the entire bar began singing “Happy Birthday.” I pocketed the napkin and joined in, wishing her the same.
Once it ended, I jumped right into my next song, a light upbeat number from my college days. There was a time I’d hated it, reminding me of Holly and how much I had loved her. But now I played it to remind me of stupid mistakes made while blinded by love.
The rest of the night felt like an informal gathering of friends hanging out together while enjoying soulful music. Sometime during the last few minutes of my set, the redhead slipped out. One minute she was there, standing in the shadows, the next she was gone. It could have been anyone, but I had a heavy suspicion it was her.
On Friday morning, I pulled open the door to Baked Goods ten minutes early. It shouldn’t have surprised me to see Lori already sitting at a table in the back corner, scrolling on her phone and looking like she’d been there for hours.
In jeans and a pale-blue sleeveless blouse, just sheer enough to see a hint of something lacey underneath, her outfit screamed casual right down to the beach flip-flops on her feet. And like Saturday, her hair was up in another ponytail that showed off that elegant neck.
The more time I spent with her, the harder it was to play it cool. But cluing her in to how anxious she made me would also give her reason to amp up the professionalism and keep her on guard.
That’d be a damn shame, because if I had learned one thing about Lori Banzini since meeting her a week ago, it was that a fire blazed within her if properly stoked. There was something about this woman that made me want to push her boundaries just to see how she’d react.
She glanced my way as I approached. “Good morning.”
“Mornin.’” Noticing the two cups of coffee on the table, I said, “You beat me to the punch.”
“I figured with your late hours you probably haven’t had a chance to have coffee yet. It’s black; not sure how you took it.”
“Black is good. Thanks. Hungry?”
“No, I’m good, but please let me.”
When she reached for her wallet, I wanted to roll my eyes over her blatant show of dominance. “No need,” I said before walking away to get some food.
“Hey, Cannon,” my favorite barista said with a shy smile. “The usual?”
“Yes. Thanks, Cindy, but no coffee.”
“Coming right up.”
The store was quiet, having already had their morning rush and prepping for the lunch crowd that would soon arrive. As I waited for my breakfast, something in the chocolate display caught my eye, and I requested it be added to my order.
A few minutes later, Cindy assembled my items and passed the tray over the counter. “Enjoy.”
Once I came back t
o Lori with my favorite egg sandwich, and the parchment-wrapped surprise, I sat in the chair facing her.
“This place is adorable,” she said, her green eyes scanning the quaint little shop.
“I’m here entirely too often.”
Twisting her head toward Cindy, whose focus was on me, Lori quipped, “I can assume why.”
I winked at my friend, who I had “dated” a time or two, and she responded with a wiggle of her fingers. “I like the mom-and-pop places better than the huge chains. They’re more authentic, less pretentious.” Lori was smart enough to get my dig, but she chose to ignore it. “Hey, speaking of pretension, how was your date with Oscar.”
“Oliver,” she corrected. “It wasn’t a date. He had a bunch of friends out on his yacht for the day. Jen was also there.”
“Cool. By the way…” I lifted the parchment packet and paused. “I’m sorry about my behavior last Saturday. The whole day just struck a nerve, and I sort of took it out on you. I hope this makes up for it.”
Unwrapping the treat, she narrowed her eyes on the chocolate-covered banana on a stick before leveling me with that glare that sent blood rushing to my cock. I swear it was worth pissing her off just to experience that rush each time I did.
“Trust me, you’re going to fall in love after one taste,” I further goaded her, with the same wink I had thrown at Cindy.
“Thank you,” she said tightly, placing my peace offering on a napkin beside her coffee.
“You’re very welcome.” My eyes held hers as I lifted my egg sandwich to take a bite. But before she could jump into business mode, there was one more thing I wanted to bring up. “Did you enjoy my set at The Green Rabbit?”
Those gorgeous berry-tinted lips tightened to suppress a smile. “I did. You definitely gained some new groupies… the place was riveted.”
Liner Notes Page 5