Chapter Seventy-Nine
Cooper
Tablet in one hand, phone pressed to her ear, Thea paces the living room of my suite, heels clicking loudly against the hardwood as she swings past the window overlooking the Hollywood sign.
“No. I’ve already told you, we’re not moving the single up.” She pauses, closing her eyes, lips in a flat line as she listens. “I don’t care what marketing wants. Cooper hasn’t finished the last two tracks, and he’s not releasing anything until the album is done. That was the agreement.”
Lounging back on the sofa, I scroll through the proofs Bowie sent of the photoshoot. My curls are an artful mess, my shirt unbuttoned, smoke clouding behind me. I look good. Dangerous even. A “Feral Indie Angel” like Bowie called me. No idea what he means, but damn.
Picking the best one, I fire it off to Declan.
Me
Your man looks hot, right?
His reply is immediate.
Declan
Fuck. I thought I’d grown out of spontaneous boners a long time ago.
This is hot as hell, baby.
Smiling, I glance up as Thea ends her call, immediately answering her phone again with a growl.
“No, we’re not doing Sunrise Sunset. He’s in LA for two more days. He’s exhausted, and you can’t promote anything that isn’t coming any time soon. Tell PR to calm down.” She listens, jaw tight, then repeats slowly. “No morning show.”
Exhaling, she sets her phone and tablet on the glass coffee table, head bowed like she’s letting out a week’s worth of tension.
“So…good day?” I ask, sitting up.
She gives a dry, humorless laugh. “Raiders still think you’re living on Liam-time.
He said yes to every demand they threw your way, so now they’re acting like ‘no’ is just the start of negotiation.
” Dropping into the armchair opposite me, she shakes her head.
“They’re not used to an artist who actually has boundaries, so I’m re-training them, but it’s like breaking bad habits they’ve had for years. ”
Rubbing the back of my neck, goosebumps break out over my skin.
“I didn’t realize how much he…shaped things.
I was just so excited to finally be making music the whole world would hear,” I admit, slowly, the naivety of my statement leaving a bitter taste in the back of my mouth.
“I knew Liam said yes to everything, but I thought that was all part of it, y’know? ”
Thea nods, a sadness clouding her eyes. “I do, but his job was to protect you, filter the noise, advocate for you. He never did that. Liam’s choices were to benefit Raider Records and line his pockets. Not once were they about you.”
I nod, shame, anger, relief all hitting at once in a mess I can’t untangle. Because deep down, I knew something felt off–the exhaustion, the panic, the way every day felt like I was sprinting only for someone to be holding me back. But hearing it out loud? It’s different.
“I thought I was the problem,” I mumble, fingers itching to pick the side of my thumb, tucking it into my palm at the last second. “What about the contract? Is it…bad?”
She hesitates, and somehow, that's worse than an immediate yes. “I’m still reviewing it. There are definitely some clauses Liam never should’ve allowed you to sign. Ever.”
Chills rush through my blood. “Like what?”
“Things that gave Raiders too much control over your release schedule, promo obligations, your time.” Her mouth twists. “Especially your time.”
“So what do we do?” I ask, a slithering anger coiling in my gut.
“We comb through everything,” she says plainly. “Line by line. I’m already pulling the fine print apart to see what we can undo or renegotiate.” She levels me with a strategic look. “And when the time’s right, we’re getting you out of Raider Records.”
“You can do that?” Hope blooms in my chest, excitement finally pushing through the dread.
“We can. But we’re doing it smart, clean, and with leverage. You’re the highest earning artist in the world right now, Cooper. Raiders aren’t going to lose you without a fight. But I happen to know Deveraux Records would bite off a hand to have you sign with them.”
“Deveraux? As in—”
She nods. “Be patient and trust me, okay? We’re not doing this in the middle of a sold-out tour, and not when you’re vulnerable.”
“Okay,” I whisper, nodding until the conviction becomes stronger. “Okay.”
“Good.” She smiles, getting to her feet and grabbing her things. “Now go call your boyfriend before you combust. I saw the way you were smiling at your phone.”
I don’t even bother denying it, pulling up FaceTime before she’s even left the suite. It rings twice before he answers, hair damp from a shower, towel slung over one shoulder. The sight of him—warm apartment light behind him, soft smile growing the second he sees me—settles everything.
“Hey, you.”
“Hey,” he says, voice low. “You okay?”
“Better now,” I say as I flop onto the huge bed and lean on the pillows. “Thea’s been fighting with the label and trying to see what she can do about the shitshow that is my contract.”
Declan winces. “Sounds brutal.”
“It is,” I admit, staring up at the ceiling for a beat before looking back at him. “But she’s fighting half the industry for me, Dec. It’s…weird. Having someone who isn’t Lockie in my corner like this.”
“You deserve people in your corner.”
Lifting the phone so I can see him better, I smile, and even through the screen, I can see it barely reaches my eyes. “I miss you.”
“I know, baby,” he whispers. “I miss you, too.”
Staring at each other, I clear my throat, changing subjects before I do something foolish like cry. “How’s my bestie doing?”
He smiles, shaking his head. “Hyper. I was with her this morning practicing passing drills after Mom told her to stop doing it off her walls.”
“She’s unstoppable,” I snort.
“She just wants to win the U10s championship.” He shrugs. “Trust me, her competitiveness is dangerous. Can’t wait for this weekend to be over.”
I grin, but then a frown pulls at my lips, remembering the one thing I dreaded telling him. “I’m…not gonna make it to the final.”
“I figured as much,” he says, but there’s no bite to it, no bitterness. More like understanding. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not. I thought I’d get back. I wanted to see her play. I—”
“Coop, there’ll be other games in the future. She gets it.”
Chewing on my lower lip, I sit up, staring into his beautiful brown eyes. “Actually…speaking of the future.” My pulse kicks up. “I wanted to ask you something.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Okay…? Sounds ominous.”
“A while back, my mom said you were thinking about franchising the bar…”
He inhales, rolling his eyes. “Mentioned it once. In passing. It was never really something I thought about, honestly.”
“But…I ask because…would you? Expand the bar?”
He stills. “I don’t know. Maybe? I wouldn’t know the first thing about expanding.”
“Okay, well…” I swallow hard. “My real-estate guy found a location near Toronto.”
“Cooper—”
“I’m not saying do it,” I rush out. “I’m just—he sent it to me, and it’s kinda perfect? Brick exterior, corner lot, huge windows. It looks like you.”
“I look like a bar?” he deadpans.
“A sexy bar,” I tease, adding quieter, “And it’s near a recording studio I might buy.”
The humor fades from his face. “You’re buying a studio?”
“Thinking about it,” I say, picking a loose thread on the comforter. “I’m just tired of LA being the only place I can work. If I set a studio up there, if I had a home base that wasn’t two-and-a-half-thousand miles away from you…”
He rubs along his beard, listening.
“One thing about Liam working me so hard, I have the money for it. I’m going to make this thing between us work, Dec. I want somewhere that’s mine, a home. With you.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long second, and I’m close to rambling some more when he nods. “Okay, send me the listing, and I’ll look.”
“Yeah?” Relief hits me so hard I have to close my eyes. “Okay, I’ll send it now.”
Opening them, Declan leans closer to the screen, scanning my face. “You look different.”
“Oh god,” I groan, throwing my arm over my face. “It’s the hair, isn’t it? I told the stylist just a trim but—”
“No, not that. You look…lighter.”
“You make me lighter,” I blurt, my brain-to-mouth filter malfunctioning.
His mouth curves, slow, shy, making him devastatingly handsome.
We talk for another hour, about everything and nothing at the same time.
When we need to say goodnight, neither of us wants to hang up first. Pulling up the listing, I email it over as soon as the call drops, then lie back, phone on my chest, staring at the ceiling with the ridiculous grin I don’t bother fighting.
I promised Dec I was coming back, and this is just the first step.