Chapter 4
Ben and Tessa picked up Billy from his home in the Hollywood Hills at ten a.m., then headed across the city toward the Mojave Desert.
Leaving any earlier would have had them caught in the morning rush hour. Instead, they only encountered congestion as they passed through downtown L.A. After that, it was smooth sailing all the way to the Coachella Valley.
“You can say that again,” Billy chimed in from the back.
The early spring sky was blue from horizon to horizon, with barely a cloud in sight. To top it off, the vehicle’s thermometer indicated that the temperature outside was a very pleasant seventy-five degrees. In another month, it would likely be approaching triple digits.
Billy’s phone vibrated with a text. He pulled it out and saw that it was a message from Tina, Pike’s agent.
FYI spent several hours last night talking with Pike. I think I got him to calm down, so everything should be fine. Wanted to let you know so you wouldn’t worry about it while you are away.
Billy typed out a quick reply.
I have no reason to worry. He knows my terms.
For the next several seconds, a reply bubble kept appearing and disappearing. When Tina’s text finally came through, it consisted of only a thumbs-up emoji.
Billy snorted a laugh as he stuffed his phone back in his pocket.
“Anything I need to know about?” Ben asked, looking at him in the rearview mirror.
“Not yet.”
“Don’t tell me. Something about Pike.”
Billy said nothing.
“Well?” Ben asked.
“You told me not to tell you.”
Ben groaned. “It is Pike. Has he officially quit?”
“Actually, Tina is trying to convince me that he’s going to play ball.”
Ben snorted.
“My sentiments exactly,” Billy said.
Several minutes later the exit to Palm Springs came into view.
Ben pointed at the hills to the left of the freeway. “Windmills!”
The ridge was lined with the giant machines, most with their blades slowly spinning despite the strong wind that blew through the pass into the valley.
“I believe the correct term is wind turbines,” Tessa corrected.
Ben raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is it now? And you know that because?”
She stared at him. “Ben Bacchetti, do you honestly not know the answer?”
“Uh…”
From the back seat, Billy stage-whispered, “Savage Night.”
Ben’s eyes widened, then he smiled at his wife. “Of course I know the answer. I was just making sure you remembered.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, unimpressed.
Savage Night was a film directed by a friend of theirs, not long after Ben and Tessa arrived in Hollywood, in which Tessa had a supporting part. The film was shot near Tehachapi, California, where there was another large group of wind turbines. They played a role in the picture.
They took the exit and followed highway 111 as it hugged the base of the San Jacinto Mountains and wound toward the city. In the distance on the left, dozens more turbines covered the otherwise empty desert.
A few miles on, they reached Palm Springs and followed the vehicle’s GPS to the area known as the Movie Colony. Soon, they pulled through a gate and onto the circular drive of a large mid-century modern home.
The house was white with large windows fronted by lush foliage. Along the front was a portico that spanned from the entrance to a multi-vehicle carport beside the building.
As the Audi stopped, the front door of the house opened, and Peter Barrington stepped out.
“You made it!” he called as Billy, Ben, and Tessa climbed out of the SUV. “How was the drive?”
“Without incident,” Ben said.
“If you ignore the windmill faux pas,” Tessa added.
“They’re not called windmills,” Peter said. “They’re wind turbines.”
“That’s very helpful,” Ben said, deadpan. “Thank you.”
Peter glanced at Billy. “Sore spot?”
“Not for me,” Billy said.
Peter chuckled. “Let’s bring in your luggage.”
Bags were retrieved, and then everyone followed Peter into the house. It turned out the interior was as white as the exterior, a color theme that included a large L-shaped couch, several chairs, and a grand piano in the living room.
“Let’s leave your bags here,” Peter said. “We can get you settled in after lunch. If you need a restroom, there are two down that hallway, across from each other.”
“How convenient,” Billy said.
“Please do me a favor and don’t tell Hattie that you said that. She’s considering doing the same at our place.”
“Don’t tell me what?” Hattie asked as she entered through a sliding glass door from the backyard.
“It certainly had nothing to do with how convenient it would be to have restrooms across from each other,” Billy said.
Hattie looked at Peter. “See, I’m right.”
“Gee, thanks, Billy,” Peter said.
Billy patted his arm. “I have a feeling what I think about it won’t make any difference on whether you’ll be remodeling or not.”
“You’re probably right.”
Hattie gave each of the new arrivals a hug. “So glad you’re here. Did Peter tell you we have lunch ready?”
“That’s where we were headed next,” Tessa said.
“Follow me.”
Hattie turned and went back out the door she’d just entered, the others in step behind her.
A lattice-covered terrace ran from the house to the edge of a large swimming pool. Under the lattice was a long table upon which sat plates of fruit, cheeses, various cold cuts, and several types of bread.
Standing near the table were pop sensation Mari Chen and Peter’s father, Stone Barrington.
“Hello, Stone,” Billy said, shaking hands with him. “I didn’t know you would be here.”
“Just for the next two nights,” Stone said. “I have business in L.A. next week, but thought I’d visit my son and daughter-in-law first.”
“I’m glad you did,” Billy said. “Always happy to see you.”
“And I you.”
Stone, like everyone else there, except for Mari, was aware of Billy’s true identity.
Billy greeted the Asian-Australian pop singer next. “How are you enjoying the desert?”
Mari raised an eyebrow. “You do know it’s not my first time here, don’t you?”
Hattie, who was nearby, leaned toward Billy and said, “She headlined Coachella two years ago.”
The mega-music festival was held every April just outside of Palm Springs.
“My apologies,” Billy said. “I should have guessed as much.”
Mari laughed. “Apology unnecessary. You’re not exactly my target demo, after all.”
Billy glanced at Stone. “I feel as if she’s calling us old.”
“ ‘Us’?” Stone said. “You’re much older than me, so she was clearly talking about you.”
Billy looked askance. “I wouldn’t say ‘much older.’ ”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Stone said. “But you’d be wrong.”
“I feel as if I’ve started something that I didn’t mean to,” Mari said.
“Not your fault,” Peter said. “It’s a generational thing.”
Billy scowled at him. “Would you like to elaborate on that?”
Peter raised a defensive hand. “Nope. No, sir, I would not.”
“Good choice.” Billy turned to Mari. “What I was trying to say is that my age doesn’t mean I don’t listen to your music.”
Mari looked surprised. “Is that right?”
“Not only do I own all five of your albums on vinyl, I also listen to them regularly.”
“Then I owe you an apology for assuming otherwise and thank you for listening.”
“How’s the songwriting going?” Ben asked.
One of the draws of the house was its basement recording studio.
It had been built in the 1950s by the home’s original owner, actor and crooner Marv Wicks, a big star at the time.
In recent years, the studio had been updated by the place’s current owner, Broadway star Ellen Halles, a good friend of Hattie and Peter’s.
She’d been the one who had offered up her home while she was doing a show in London.
“Not bad,” Hattie said, barely able to contain her excitement.
Mari snorted. “That’s putting it mildly. We’ve already come up with enough songs for nearly two albums, and I’m not sure how I’ll be able to pick which ones to leave off.”
“It’s not going to be easy,” Hattie agreed.
“Have you considered releasing two albums?” Billy asked.
“At the same time?” Hattie asked.
He shrugged. “That or within a few months of each other.”
Hattie gasped. “I love that idea! And it would solve the song choice problem.” She turned to Mari. “Do you think your label would go for it?”
“Excuse me for pointing out the obvious,” Tessa said. “But she is Mari Chen. Her label will do whatever she asks.”
They all looked at Mari, who shrugged and said, “She’s not wrong.” She thought for a moment, then a mischievous grin spread across her face. “What if I keep the albums a secret?”
Hattie sucked in a breath. “So, when they drop, they catch everyone by surprise!”
“Exactly.”
Hattie ran her hands over her arms. “I’m getting goose bumps!”
The two women looked at each other, then without a word, hurried back toward the house.
“Where are you going?” Ben called after them.
“Studio!” they said in unison, then disappeared inside.
The five left behind stared after them.
“I guess when inspiration hits, you have to jump on it,” Stone said.
Billy and the others nodded.
“You know,” Tessa said to Billy, “if this works out, Mari should give you a percentage of sales. Perhaps Stone could draw up a contract for you.”
“Don’t get me involved in this,” Stone said.
“Don’t worry,” Billy said. “She would have figured it out on her own. But I wouldn’t say no to a few signed albums.” He glanced at Peter. “Have you heard any of what they’ve written yet?”
“Not a note,” Peter said. “I’ve been banned from going downstairs. Which, I’m pretty sure, applies to everyone.”
“Everyone,” Tessa said, her brow arched.
“Feel free to try but know that they threatened to write a song about me called ‘My Lovely Husband.’ ”
“That doesn’t sound bad.”
“It’s a musical obituary.”
“I think I’ll stay up here,” Tessa said.
“Good choice.”