Chapter 6
Chapter Six
R enic pulled into the cracked parking lot of the decrepit, centuries-old Budget Inn and swore out loud. There were a million reasons why Della needed to get back to work, both for her sake and his, but listing them wasn’t going to work. He’d scored a small victory with the last tweet he read out, going by the reaction it generated. But it wasn’t enough.
The only way to get Della back on track was to keep the conversation going, and he couldn’t do that if Lizzie wouldn’t even let him in the house.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and tried to think of a solution. The chances of casually running into Della seemed remote at best, and she wasn’t answering the phone or his texts.
The Budget Inn sign flickered to life, casting a garish orange glow onto his knuckles. He should go in and get a room, but one look at the filthy door to the lobby kept his butt in the car.
Maybe he could convince Lizzie to help. There’d been a moment of agreement in her eyes. She’d nodded her head ever so slightly when he’d brought up Della’s crew.
For a few seconds, it felt like it used to when they talked through band issues together. Lizzie helped him navigate the shark-infested waters of music public relations, while he helped her steer her sisters in the right direction. Some of those talks went on a lot longer than they should have. She’d been married at the time, but damn, if she hadn’t been, it would have been a lot of fun to see how far they could have taken things.
But now…
Crap.
This hadn’t gone at all as planned. Now what?
He drummed his fingers a few more times, then hit the steering wheel with his fist. “Dammit.”
He needed help with this one.
He needed backup, and a better plan.
He needed to get back in that house.
He swore again, tugged his phone out, and dialed the one person he could count on for things like this.
Two rings later, Morgan answered the phone with a chirpy, “Hey, you two on the way back?”
“No.” He almost growled the answer. “Round one goes to Lizzie.”
“Lizzie. What about Della?” Morgan asked. “What the hell happened?”
He glared at the dirty orange sign. One of the letters had flickered out, so now it read, Budge Inn . “She kicked me out.”
“She kicked you out,” Morgan repeated slowly. “Why?”
He put his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. “I might have made her baby sister cry.”
“Damn, Renic. What the hell did you say? ”
“I read out the tweets you sent, plus a few more I found on the way up here.”
“None of my tweets should have upset her like that.”
“I added one from a dad, talking about spending time with his girls.”
Morgan made a strangled sound. “Oh. Oh, Renic. You didn’t.” The disapproval in her voice was palpable, even from this distance.
“I know, I know. It was a shitty move. I thought it would make her feel nostalgic.”
“No, you didn’t.” Morgan scoffed. “You thought it would make her feel guilty. You thought you could guilt her back to work. If you’d bothered to ask I would have told you that was the wrong move.”
“Yeah, well,” Renic rubbed his face, “Lizzie won’t let me rent a room at the Belhurst so now I’m sitting in front of a shithole down the street. Pretty sure I’ll catch a disease just walking through the door.”
Morgan snorted a laugh. “I’m sure they have other hotels in that town somewhere.”
“This is closest.”
Morgan paused. “You’re not hoping to just run into Della on the street or something, are you?”
The thought had crossed his mind, but he wasn’t about to admit it. “No. Far as I can tell she hasn’t been out of that house since she came here. If she had, there’d already be people camped out in the driveway.”
“And as it is, you’re the only one laying siege to the castle. Unsuccessfully, I might add.”
The amusement in her tone wasn’t helping the situation.
“Snotty comments aren’t helpful.”
“Okay, so what’s the grand plan to win her back now that you’ve emotionally brutalized the poor girl? ”
Renic thought for a moment. He was at his best face-to-face, no question. “I need to get back in that house.”
“Have you considered astral projection?”
“Still not helping,” Renic grumbled. “Focus, please.”
Morgan tapped something like a pen against something wood, like his desk.”You could dress up like a ninja and sneak in through the back door. Oh, or maybe you could hire a messenger to deliver a basket of flowers with a note that says ‘Please come back.’”
“You’re enjoying this.” Renic glared at the steering wheel.
“I kind of am, yes.” Morgan’s voice bubbled with laughter. “You’re normally Mr. Smooth. You could sell ice in the Arctic, and sand in the desert. But all of a sudden you’ve lost your silver tongue. I wonder why. Let me think.”
“I have no idea what you’re trying to say.” He should hang up now.
“I’m saying Lizzie Bellamy looked at you funny, and now you’re all tongue-tied.” A chair squeaked in the background. “It’s kinda cute, actually. I always thought you two had potential.”
A bird landed on the hood of his car and stared at him with judgmental eyes. “Potential…as what? Sparring partners?”
“You two were a half step away from being a thing before everything blew up.”
“We were never a thing. She was married, remember?”
“Marriage doesn’t stop people from falling in love. Just ask her ex-husband. Damn, that man was hot. Shame he was such an ass.”
“Could you focus, please?” The bird gave him a disapproving look and flitted away, but not before it left a load of creamy white crap on his hood. “How am I going to get back in to talk with Della? ”
“The two magic words to get any woman to listen to you are ‘I’m’ and ‘sorry.’ Try using them in a sentence.”
Renic frowned. “You think I should apologize. For what, exactly?”
“Doesn’t matter. Get a box of cupcakes, get back in there, and say ‘I’m sorry.’ Be serious when you say it. Girls like that.”
He shook his head, even though they weren’t on video chat and she couldn’t see him. “There’s no way she’s going to buy that, Morgan. She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you. She’s mad at you, and anger implies passion, and passion, as you know, implies that someone cares . You can definitely work with that.”
“She called me Darth Renic.”
Morgan laughed. “I always did like her. Seriously, you two are well matched.”
“You know, you’re supposed to be on my side. I mean, I’m the one who signs your checks.” He could picture Morgan in the office, spinning her chair around while she teased him.
“Oh, I’m on your side, boss. I’m tickled to watch the master at work. You know, this would all be a hell of a lot easier if you just told her you like her.”
Renic drew the phone back and stared at it. “Who, Della? She’s like a sister to me. I don’t get how that’s going to help.”
“No, you twit. Not Della. Lizzie.”
“I don’t…it’s not like that. I haven’t seen her in years, and she accused me of bullying Della into going solo.”
“You never told her, did you.” Morgan muttered something he didn’t quite hear. “You’re an idiot.”
“She made up her mind about me a long time ago. Telling her Della demanded to go solo and I tried to talk her out of it won’t change that.”
“Damn, men can be so stupid sometimes. Don’t you get it? She thinks you made Della do it. She blames you.” Morgan sighed the over exaggerated sound of long-suffering assistants everywhere. “You have to tell her. You won’t get past all this until you do. If you don’t get Lizzie on your side, there’s no way you’re getting Della back. You need her, Renic.”
He blew out a breath but said nothing.
“Besides, I bet the makeup sex will be epic.” Morgan whistled like a construction worker.
“Just stop, will you?”
She laughed.
He made a mental note to send his assistant a bag of nails for Christmas. “Can we just focus on the issue at hand, please? Step one, get me back in that house.”
Morgan’s laughter died down into a fit of giggles that finally drifted away. “Okay, I have an idea. She’d rent a room to someone, just not to you. So don’t be you. I’ll make a reservation under some other name. We can use one of your dad’s side businesses. I’ll get you a room for tomorrow and Wednesday.”
Renic perked up at that. “Hey, that’s not a bad idea.”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
He waved that old complaint aside. "Make it for the weekend too.”
“Don’t tell me you need more than a couple of days to charm a lady who already likes you. You really are losing your touch.”
He ignored her comment and pressed on. “She mentioned something about plumbing issues, and a wedding. They don’t just do rooms. They do events.” An idea popped up and hit him in the forehead. “We should plan an event.”
“You want to plan your wedding already? You haven’t even apologized.” Morgan sounded dubious.
“No, you pain in my ass. Not a wedding. Something else. Something that would last a few days, like maybe, I don’t know. Something.” He couldn’t think of what other event could possibly exist.
“Have you considered a psychiatric convention? That way you could get some mental help.”
“Just give me a second. Let me think this through.”
“Oh, that ship has sailed, don’t you think?” Morgan said.
“It doesn’t have to be anything that big. It could be a party or something like that.”
“You sure you want to go that direction? I mean, Della did just bolt from a party. It might not put her in a receptive frame of mind.”
She had a point there. “Okay, not a party. Something business.”
“Business. You mean you want to plan an event that will be useful as well as manipulative.”
“Yes, that’s it exactly.” Renic tapped a beat out on the steering wheel. A thought circled through about his recent talk with Nate. There was something he could use in that, somewhere.
“I was kidding,” Morgan said.
“I’m not.” The thought solidified. “Invite Nate, his crew, and the lawyers. Tell him I’m reconsidering his offer, and they should all come up here to hash out the details.”
Morgan made a choking sound. “Are you saying you’ll give up part of the business to get Della back?”
He felt a surge of the old optimism as the plan worked its way into reality in his mind. “No. I’m saying I’ll show Della some real-world consequences of her actions.”
“Boss, this might not be the right—” Morgan started to say.
“It might not be the right thing, but it’s the only thing. If Della doesn’t go on tour, I’ll have to sell part of the business to make up the loss. Get them up here. Call it some sort of planning session or something. Use Dad’s investment firm to book it. Pay whatever she asks.”
Morgan sputtered and coughed. “Whatever she asks? Who are you and what have you done with my boss?”
“I’m serious. She needs the money.” Now that he thought about what he’d seen, he was positive he was on the right track. “She said something about plumbing, and the place definitely looks like it could use a little sprucing up. Give her a big deposit. Make it enough she can’t say no.”
“Um, okay. If you think this is the best play,” Morgan said in a way that made it clear she did not think this was in any way a smart move. “Not sure Nate will love being used as a tool in your reindeer games, but whatever.”
“Do it now. I’m going to get a room and try not to look too hard at the sheets.”
“Gross,” Morgan said. “I’ll see what I can do. But, boss?”
“Yeah?”
“When you see her again, start with the magic words. Trust me.”
“Text me the details,” Renic said, and hung up.
He pulled his weekender bag from the backseat and went into the lobby of the roach motel. He made it through the painful process of renting the room from a possibly stoned twenty-something with a nose ring and a tattoo on the side of his neck and arrived at Room 101, a small but relatively clean room next to where he’d parked. He still hadn’t received a message from Morgan.
He sent her a text. What ’ s the holdup?
When she didn’t answer immediately, he fished around in his bag for the toiletry kit and went to shave. His face was covered in cream when the phone finally dinged.
Check in tmrw, 4:00 pm, Fred Webber. Mtg Sun - Wed. Took all rms. $14k + food. Dep $7k pd .
Renic patted his face dry while he absorbed that information, raising his eyes at the dollar figure. It would have been triple or quadruple that in the city. He replied to Morgan with a thumbs-up emoji, then, Nate?
Delighted.
The dripping sarcasm and disapproval were evident by her use of an actual word and not a thumbs-up emoji.
Lizzie?
It took longer than he thought it should for Morgan to respond with another one-word answer.
Excited.
It was the right call, then. Lizzie needed the money. He needed access. It was a win-win.
What he needed now was someone on the inside to bring him up to speed. He dialed Jordanna.
“Hey,” Jordanna answered. “You sure know how to make an entrance.”
“Yeah, that didn’t go like I planned.” Renic rubbed the back of his neck. “How can I fix it, Jordy? What do I need to know?”
“The short answer is, I have no idea.” Jordanna sucked in a breath and then blew it out. He had a feeling she was hiding out somewhere to smoke a cigarette. “Lizzie’s pretty miffed that you listened in on their conversation. Della doesn’t seem to care about that, but she’s frustrated people won’t leave her alone. She’s made her choice, and she thinks we should all just live with it.”
“Any idea what happened to make her run?”
“None. I was at that party, and nothing unusual happened. Whatever’s going on is in her head. Sorry kid, but the truth of it is I don’t think Della herself knows why she did it. The only one who might have a clue is Lizzie.”
“Great.” Renic peered out the curtains at the drab parking lot. “Getting her to share insight with me is going to be loads of fun.”
“You might stand a better chance if you grovel first.” Jordanna huffed a laugh. “Or maybe start working on a Plan B.”
“Already on it.” Renic dropped the curtain and turned around to face the even more depressing room. “What are your plans? You sticking around?”
“I can stay a few days if you want.”
“That’d be great. You can play good cop to my bad, maybe.”
“I’m not a cop, Renic. I’m a mama bear. But I get your point. I’ll try to provide some of that wisdom they think I have while you work the front end. Keep in mind I need to leave by Sunday. Got a thing over in Philly I need to deal with before the tour launches. If it launches.”
“It will.” He managed to sound a lot more confident than he felt. “Thanks, Jordy.”
“Sure thing,” Jordanna said. “See ya.”
Renic tossed the phone onto the nightstand and pulled out his laptop. Surprisingly, the rundown motel had excellent Wi-Fi. He found several files from the day’s studio session, as well as Davis’s cut on Keith's new song, waiting for approval. He read the email from Davis first, then clicked the included link to bring up the file. “The One That Got Away” began to play.
The lines of her back burned into my brain,
the way she looked when she walked away.
The fury in her face, the hell in her eyes,
the pain in her voice, the sound of goodbye.
What more would there be to say
If I could relive that day ?
How much longer would she stay
The one that got away.
The one that got away.
Renic hit “Stop.” The words were raw, and the emotion they evoked made his chest tight. It reminded him too much of Lizzie and the pain etched in lines on her face when she said, “You destroyed my family.”
It wasn’t true. It had been Della’s idea to go solo, not his. He’d agreed to sign Della to stop her from signing with someone less honest and less invested in her and her family. He’d hidden the truth from Lizzie because it would have hurt her too much.
He’d become the enemy she could blame, on purpose, so that her love for her sister wouldn’t be tainted by Della’s choice. It had hurt him to do it, and, if he was honest, it still did, but he’d done what he thought was right, despite the cost.
After the band parted ways, he’d done what he could to make sure Della, Piper, and Mattie’s careers flourished.
He’d stayed away from Lizzie.
She’d been married. He’d had no right to want her.
So he’d let her storm out on righteous misconceptions and hadn’t tried to stop her.
Now, Lizzie was divorced, and time had passed, and maybe…
No, he refused to go down that road.
He picked up the keys and his phone and left. He needed a clear head, and a drive would do him good.
On his way out the door, he texted Davis. One That Got Away good to go. Finish it up.