Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
R enic woke the next morning to the sound of an alarm clock instead of the insistent knocking he’d expected. He waited, hoping Lizzie would show up so he could talk her into exploring the sheets together.
When the sun broke through the curtains, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. He was fully dressed before he admitted to himself that she wasn’t going to show.
“Damn,” he said to the empty room.
He gave the rumpled sheets one last regretful look, then picked up his phone. A blank screen stared back at him. He clicked the button and waited for it to power up, a little disconcerted that he’d left it off for so long.
After everyone had left his room, he’d collapsed on the bed and slept like a man who’d had satisfying sex with a beautiful woman and hadn’t given work a single thought.
The screen lit up, displaying several texts from Morgan, most of which were sent the previous night.
Check email. Nate sent contract. He ’ ll bring final to mtg.
Did you check your f-ing email ?
Where the hell are you?
One final note from Morgan was sent this morning while he was in the shower.
Jacob ’ s set. Mtg tmrw 2 pm. Your place. Sign him before you sell out.
Renic winced at that. He’d asked her to draw up initial paperwork to sign Jacob to Self Evident records, and then been distracted in the parking lot and forgotten all about it. She’d clearly not only done what he asked but arranged to get them signed as well. She’d gone above and beyond without any further guidance from him, and now she was rightfully pissed he hadn’t responded.
He quickly tapped out a response. Sry. Phone died. Checking now.
The contract Nate sent contained a lot of legalese that Renic’s own lawyers would need to go over, but Morgan had highlighted the basics for him on a summary sheet. He scanned the bulleted list, which included Morgan’s thoughts in the margins.
Most of it was as bad as he’d expected. They wanted fifty-one percent of Self Evident Records, beside which Morgan had scrawled, Fuck that .
Renic snorted at her comment, then sobered. They wanted complete control of his company. It would be three giant steps backward, taking him from business owner to employee with one stroke of a pen.
No way he’d agree to that, and Nate had to have known what his response would be. This was a Texas Two-Step, with his business as the dance floor.
The next item stated their desire to retain Renic and his entire team to create a new artist and repertoire department. It named Renic as the director and included all of his key people, but left off his lawyer and the interns. They listed salaries alongside each name, after which Morgan had written her opinions. The note next to her own salary was, In their dreams .
The last section outlined precisely how they would handle the rights, which was the most significant sticking point. It boiled down to they wanted full rights to the studio sessions and the lyrics, along with the masters. They wanted the standard traditional deal with all new talent going forward.
It would mean every new artist would lose control of their work the second it was recorded. Dream Works, and by extension Omega Music Group, could do whatever they wanted with them, including nothing, if they didn't think manufacturing and marketing for that particular artist were worth the investment.
That standard deal left the artist with next to nothing if it all went south. It was wrong to give so little to the artist who gave so much to the success of the business. Without them, there was no product to sell. It was the reason he’d left Dream Works to begin with.
Next to this section Morgan had written, Is this what you really want?
“Hell no,” Renic said out loud. “That’s not happening.”
He trusted his ability to forge a strong relationship with his talent. His relationship with Della in particular had made the start of Self Evident Records a lot easier than it otherwise would have been. His company was just two years old when Della had approached him about going solo, and their mutual agreement had been a boon for both of them.
She was excited by his new approach to rights management. She loved that ownership of the lyrics would remain with Mattie, who wrote all of the songs for The Bellamy Sisters. She thought it was an excellent idea that she retained authority over what happened to the master recordings, and that she was given a buyout clause so that she could produce them herself if the label chose to let them languish.
They were in it fifty-fifty, which meant they both had a vested interest in their mutual success. Della had seized the chance to have more autonomy over her own work product, and he had capitalized on having such a well-known artist in his stable.
Their partnership had proven highly profitable for both of them so far, and it felt like a better way to do business. There was no way he'd go back to doing things the old way, but if he couldn’t convince Della to go back on tour by the time Nate arrived on Sunday, he would be forced to negotiate. Odds were he wouldn’t be thrilled with the outcome.
Bringing Nate here didn’t just put pressure on Della. It put a ticking clock over his own head. Nate would be here on Sunday. He had three days before he’d be forced to play his final card. Tight, but doable. He’d done more with less before.
He sent back to Morgan, Contract is shit. I ’ ll send my take tonight.
Making the paperwork take as long as possible was an excellent way to stall for time.
It ’ s donkey ball sized turds.
He smiled at that. Agreed. Thanks for Jacob. U R a goddess. I don ’ t deserve you.
A few seconds later, Morgan responded, Damn right. Bring wine when you come back.
He laughed. Done. He followed that with a big grinning emoji.
Morgan sent back, How goes w/ Lizzie?
The way Lizzie had looked as she climaxed flashed through his mind and made him wish she were in his bed right now. Better. Think we connected.
Morgan sent back a raised eyebrow emoji .
He smirked at it and tucked his phone in his back pocket. She’d have to wait for details.
He wanted to see Lizzie before too much time passed, he needed to talk to Della, and he needed coffee to make up for the lack of sleep. When he reached the ground floor, he heard Lizzie’s voice through the open doors to the ballroom.
“Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m letting plain drywall show up in any of their photos, period.” Lizzie sounded stern.
“I told him that,” a younger male voice—Carter, he thought—said. “He didn’t care. He said the acoustics work better in the vertical space, whatever the hell he means by that.”
“I don’t care if the acoustics work better in outer space,” Lizzie snapped. “I’m not leaving that bare drywall out in the open. The arrangement stays the way it is.”
Renic stepped into the ballroom. Lizzie, Carter, and Carrie were in the middle of the newly set up dance floor. Lizzie held a binder in the crook of one arm and had her stoic I-am-an-immovable-object face on. Carter looked apologetic, and Carrie appeared to be playing referee.
“He refused to even set up if we didn’t fix it,” Carrie said. “I know you don’t want something that might be less than perfect, but it’s the darkest corner in the room. Nobody will even notice it, but they might notice the DJ not showing up. Right? Come on. We can block most of it with a speaker.”
Renic stepped in to interrupt before Lizzie went even further into her tirade.
“Good morning, everybody. Hard at work already?” He used the same overly cheery voice he’d perfected on Morgan when she was cranky.
Lizzie flashed him a look he couldn’t interpret. Was that happiness to see him, or annoyance? Maybe it was both .
“Good morning.” Lizzie flashed a smile, then returned her attention to the notebook in her arms.
Carrie glance between him and Lizzie with a delighted grin on her face. “Good morning, sleepyhead. Have a nice rest? Want some breakfast? Coffee?”
“No thanks,” Renic said. “How are things going? What can I do to help?”
“Things are behind schedule already.” Lizzie flipped several pages in the notebook, then scowled down at the page. “This room should have been set up thirty minutes ago. We need to get it done, and we need to stop talking about that asinine DJ before the bride and groom come down for the winery tour. I don't want them to think anything is wrong."
Renic pointed at the damaged corner. “What if we pinned wallpaper over the drywall so it looks fixed? Nobody will be looking at it too close anyway, right?”
“Mark suggested that last night,” Carter said. “I checked. We don’t have enough of this stuff left. I ordered some but it’s going to take days to get here.”
Carrie moved to the corner and stood in front of it with her arms spread out wide. “I say we take those big plants and bunch them up around the speaker. See? It would look fine.”
Lizzie gave Carrie a withering look. “Fine is not the look I’m going for. The bride specifically wanted the tables and dance floor set up this way to project scenes along the wall during the reception. It’s a special movie the bride’s brother made of their engagement. If we turn the way this idiot wants, the movie will show all over his face. So no, we will not be rearranging on the whims of a diva DJ. Please stop arguing with me about it and just finish up in here, okay? We have a lot of work to do today. Twenty-two hours and counting until ready stations.”
Carter looked a little taken aback by her harsh tone. He held up his hands as if in surrender. “Sorry, Lizzie. Just trying to help.”
Her face softened. “I know, Carter. I’m sorry. I’m not myself this morning. It’s not your fault. You did great.”
She squeezed his upper arm.
Carter grinned like a kid in a candy store. “Thanks.”
The kid had a crush on Lizzie, and from what Renic could tell she had no idea. “It sounds like you’re preparing for battle, not a wedding.”
Lizzie rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache. “Arranging a wedding is a lot like going to war. The more things get out of hand today, the worse tomorrow will be, and there’s always a last-minute disaster to contend with. Always.”
Carrie patted Lizzie on the shoulder. “You need coffee. I’ll be right back.”
“The weather might get kind of chilly Saturday night,” Carter said. “Want me to bring over the blankets?”
“Yes, please.” Lizzie made a note on the already note-covered page in her book. “Thanks, Carter. Just leave an extra set at the back door. I’ll take them down to Lookout Point later.”
“I’m on it,” Carter said. He flashed Renic a look of pure irritation and jealousy on his way out the door.
Renic studied Lizzie’s face. Her eyes were bloodshot, and there were dark circles under them. “We didn’t drink that much beer last night. Why do you look hungover?”
Lizzie grimaced. “I stayed talking with Carrie last night. There was wine.”
“Uh-huh.” Renic grinned. “And what were we discussing?”
“It was girl talk.” Her cheeks reddened. “None of your business.”
“Right.” So she’d been talking to her girlfriend about him and drank too much wine. He chose to take that as a good sign. “What can I do to help?”
Lizzie looked around at the ballroom. “This room needs the most work. We’re behind because the DJ decided to be an ass, and I wasn’t here to give direction.”
Renic held out a hand. “I’ve set up more than a few parties. Just show me the layout I know you have in there somewhere.”
Lizzie pulled out a piece of graph paper with the intended layout of the ballroom drawn on it to scale and handed it to him.
He studied it with amusement. “You’re more organized than an army general, and twice as scary.”
Lizzie gave him a tired smile. “Communication is key in events, you know that.”
“Leave this to me.” He wiggled the paper for emphasis. “You get some coffee.”
She looked relieved. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”
Renic leaned forward and kissed her cheek before speaking low into her ear. “I meant what I said last night, Lizzie. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. Just ask.”
She shivered, and his pulse kicked up a notch.
“Lizzie?” Della appeared in the doorway with two big mugs of coffee. Her eyes widened when she saw Renic, and she stopped too fast. She hissed as hot liquid sloshed onto her hands.
Lizzie moved away from Renic. “Yes?”
Della gestured delicately with one of the mugs. “Carrie says she needs your approval on the toast thingies before she makes a ton of them.”
“Right.” Lizzie snapped her notebook shut. “I’ll be back.”
“But…” Della glanced from Lizzie to Renic and back again. “I’ll go with you. ”
“No. You stay and help Renic with the setup.” Lizzie rushed to the door, then glanced back over her shoulder. “You two, play nice.”
Della stared after her sister with a mixture of panic and rebellion on her face.
Renic couldn't have manufactured better timing. He'd love to know if it was Lizzie or Carrie who had arranged to deliver Della to him along with the coffee. “Mind if I take one of those off your hands?”
Della stared at him.
“I like it black if you have it.” He gestured at the mugs.
“This one’s yours, I guess.” Della put down one of the mugs on a nearby table. “How did you get Lizzie to switch sides?”
“I didn’t.” Renic picked up the mug and took a cautious sip. “Lizzie’s always on your side.”
“If she was on my side, she wouldn’t have set me up like this.” Della clutched her mug in both hands. “I suppose this is some sort of intervention, right?”
“No.” Renic returned his mug to the table and spread out the map Lizzie had given him next to it. “But it’s about time we talked, don’t you think?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Della stared down at her mug.
“Now, you know that’s not true.” He studied the layout. She'd made excellent use of the space. Ten round tables would seat six each, plus the long table for the wedding party that would stretch along one wall. “This house is amazing. I see why you and Lizzie like it so much. It feels like a whole other world.”
He pulled a table from the cluster near the door over to the far right corner. “Is that what you wanted? Another world? ”
Della put her mug down. “Why isn’t anybody hearing what I’m saying? I’ve been pretty damn clear.”
Renic gestured to the long table that would be the focal point for the room. “Grab that end, will you?”
Della had the same stubborn look he’d seen on Lizzie’s face many times, but she did as he asked. That meant she was still listening, for now.
He spoke while they maneuvered the long table into place. “When we first partnered up, you told me that music filled your soul the way nothing else on earth could do, and that you couldn’t imagine a day without it. Remember?”
“So? Ugh, this is heavy.” Della said. “I don’t need a stage to feel that. Music is always with me.”
They set the long table in place, then Renic pulled at another round table until he had it in position. “Yes, but it wasn’t just the music, was it. It was the crowd, too. Think back on that first time you walked out on stage. It wasn’t the song that filled you. It was the applause. Can you walk away from that? Will the grapevines and the inn fill you with the same kind of joy?”
He added another two tables to the formation. He had to get to the point of this conversation before they were all in place.
“Going on tour for you isn’t going to give me that joy either.” Della moved a chair to the table he'd just placed, then went for more.
“Why not?” Table number four took longer to move because it was tangled with some chairs. “When you first went solo you couldn’t stop talking about how exciting it was. You finally felt like you were an adult standing on your own two feet. Remember?”
Della carried a chair past him and pointedly didn't answer the question .
“What changed?” He moved table five near the center, but it didn't look right. He went back to check the map. “When did the adventure end, Della?”
Della shoved a chair into place. “I don’t know. It just did.”
It wasn’t much of an answer, but it was the first real one she’d given him since the night she’d walked out. “Come on, Della. You know . It’s okay to say it out loud. Whatever it is, we can handle it together.”
She gripped a chair so hard her knuckles turned white. “There’s nothing to handle, Renic. It’s done.”
Frustration pushed him in a new direction. “Help me understand this, because I really don’t get it. I don’t get how you can walk away from all the people who depend on you. I don’t get how you can walk away from commitments you agreed to. And I really, really don’t get how you can walk away from something that brings you, and everyone who listens to you, so much joy. How can you do that?”
Della shoved the chair away. “What’s there to get? I’m tired of everyone wanting something from me. Expecting something. I’m just some cash cow to you. To everybody. The only person who gives a rat’s ass about me is Lizzie.”
Her voice grew louder until it cracked at the end of her rant.
Anger flared bright and hot and punched a hole through his self-control.
“That’s bullshit, Della. Pure bullshit. You know it's not true. You’re lying to yourself if you think that.” His voice reverberated through the ballroom loud enough that she flinched. “You came to me , remember? You begged me. Begged . I need to get out on my own, you said. They all want to keep me that little girl forever and I’m sick of it. I need to grow up, and I can’t do that tied to the past. Remember?”
Della’s eyes flashed. “I remember what I said. You don’t have to throw my words back at me like I’m some kind of idiot.”
He pointed at her. “I told you then that Piper would be angry and Mattie would be hurt. You said they’d get over it, but they didn’t, did they? Then Lizzie stormed off to do battle with me and you realized what would happen if we actually talked and you panicked.”
“I didn’t…”
He shoved a chair into place so hard the table shifted. "Remember the phone call? The one where you could barely speak through the tears? Because I sure as hell do. I was not the bad guy of the story, Della. Stop playing the victim with me, because we both know you've never been that.”
Della looked away, but not before he caught the glint of tears in her eyes. “Did you tell her?”
He stared at her. “I should have. She thinks I'm the worst kind of asshole but no, I didn’t tell her. I keep my promises. But you should. Own your choices and your mistakes, Della.”
Della glared at him. “What do you care what Lizzie thinks? She’s not your sister. You haven’t seen her in years.”
“What do I care?” He huffed out a harsh laugh. She was so naive. She still had no idea what she'd done. What she'd pushed him to do. He hadn't told her what it had cost all those years ago, but the stubborn set of her chin, the rebellious look in her eyes, and the unfair accusations she'd just made sent him right over the edge of sense and reason. “I loved her. I’m in love with her. But I let her go because she was married, and I knew you didn’t want to lose her too. Even after she got divorced, I stayed away. For you.”
As he said the words, he realized they were true. He’d pushed any thought of a life with Lizzie out of his head for years because if he’d really considered the loss he might not be able to go on breathing. But now that he was here in her house, in her home , he couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Della looked as startled by his declaration as he felt. She stared at him with wide eyes, her mouth open.
The realization was both liberating and frustrating, and the two emotions were a sucker punch to his heart. “I let what might have been the best thing to ever happen to me walk right out the door so that she wouldn’t look at you the way she looks at me. And I’ve put up with the consequences of that decision from that day to this. That’s what adults do, Della. They put other people first.”
Della sucked in a breath.
He shoved the last table into place with a loud screech of legs on the wood floor. “I did it because I believed in you and your family. I always have. It was one of the main reasons I even started the label to begin with. I watched how Omega forced you to stay in that little girl pop zone way past the point of believability, and I didn’t think it was right. They were holding all of you back. Not just you, but Piper and Mattie too. So when The Bellamy Sisters contract was up, I signed you, and I pushed Piper and Mattie down their own paths, and I let Lizzie think I was the bastard that ripped her family apart.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Della watched him like he was a volcano about to erupt. “About Lizzie, I mean? You never told me you loved her. You never said—”
“You had a solo career to launch. You’re the cornerstone of Self Evident. You know that. What you don’t know is now that we've seen some success with your first two albums, Omega Music Group's been chomping at the bit to get us under their umbrella.”
Della stiffened. “I don’t want to be part of a big label like that. Not again. ”
“If you back out on this tour, I’ll have no choice but to take them up on their offer. It’s that, or shut it all down because I won’t be able to cover the losses on my own. That means my team, and your crew, won’t get paid. I can’t—I won’t—let that happen. I’ll do a deal with the devil to stop that from happening. That’s how much I care.” He took a deep breath to get his anger under control.
Della’s face was red and splotchy, and there were tears on her cheeks. He rubbed his face, then lowered his voice to a near whisper. “What about you, Della? Are you okay with everyone else paying the price for your choices?”
“No.” She said the word so softly he could barely hear it, but she said it out loud, which meant he'd finally managed to break through the shield she’d put between them.
“If you want to quit when this tour’s over, that’s one thing. But if you quit now you have to face the consequences of letting everybody down. Because I’m done doing it for you.” Renic waited for a long moment, but she stared at the window on the far side of the room and didn't say anything. He’d said all he could. The rest was up to her. “Nate will be here on Sunday. If you haven’t changed your mind by then, I’ll sign the papers.”
He picked up the floor plan and studied it. All but one table was in place, but many the chairs still needed to be shifted.
He dragged it across to the left corner, then grabbed a stack of chairs.
Della drifted toward the door. “Renic?”
He looked at her, hope flaring in his chest. “Yeah?”
“I think she loved you too.” Della bit her lip, then left without another word.