Chapter 34
CASSIE
Ishould be focused on what Kevin is saying.
And my lawyer, Nerisha. I should at least be making sure that Nora is taking all this down, making notes that I will ask her to read to me later.
But all I can think about is Pia. All I can do is keep checking the wall clock and wondering why she isn’t home yet.
“Cassie!” Kevin’s voice is loud enough to interrupt me. I turn my head from the clock to him.
“Yes?”
“Is this really what you want?” he asks. “Once we start this process, it can’t be undone.”
I glance at Nerisha, a stylish Black woman with braided hair and an uncompromising stare. She breaks her steely composure to give me a small smile and nod.
“Yes, I’m absolutely certain,” I say.
Kevin sucks in a breath through his teeth, leans back in his chair. “It’s going to cost you.”
“I know,” I say. “I am prepared to pay.”
In all honesty, Kevin has no idea how much I’m willing to pay for what I want. Nobody knows that. Apart from me.
“I will begin negotiations with Haven this week,” Nerisha says, collecting her papers.
Kevin shakes his head. “I can’t believe this is it.”
“The end of Evergreene,” I add.
He rubs a hand over his face. “I thought we had more time,” he says, and I hear then just how hard this is hitting him.
Nora and Nerisha share a look.
“Ladies, thank you for your time today,” I say. “Perhaps Kevin and I could talk alone for a moment.”
“Of course. I’ll be in touch, Cassie, and Kevin, good to see you again,” Nerisha says as she tucks her papers in her briefcase and stands. She shake hands with me, with Kevin, and then Nora shows her to the door.
“You must have seen this coming,” I say to Kevin once we’re alone.
He sighs again. “Yes, of course. It’s been coming at me like a fucking freight train for years.
I just … I always thought I could stop it in time.
That I could make it work. I’d get the boys into rehab.
You and Clarence were always reliable. Even when Vik got arrested, in some ways I thought that was what needed to happen.
If one of them was out of the game, then it was one less bad influence on Stephan.
He could go back to writing and focusing on the band. ”
A puzzle piece falls into place. “So this is surprising you? Me wanting to break away?”
“Yeah, I mean…” He pauses, leans his elbows on the table between us.
“No. I guess not. When I really think about it, you are in the best position to have a solo career. And I know you changed your contract earlier this year to that effect, but I just thought you were doing it because you got that new hot-shot lawyer … Fuck, I was an idiot to not see it, right?”
I smile at him. “Not an idiot. Just a bit short-sighted. But I’ve started to see that a lot of men are short-sighted.”
“Or idiots?” he offers a grimace of a smile.
“Yes, fine. Some are just idiots.”
We share a huff of laughter, but then Kevin’s eyes turn serious. “I’m proud of you, Cassie. For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing. Even though it’s going to cost you. And it’s going to make my life a living hell for a while, I have no doubt you’ll be a huge success.”
I smile to myself. That is, until Kevin notices.
“What? What did I say?”
“Nothing. You just sound like someone else.”
“You know,” he says, “if you need a manager…”
I’m not surprised he’s suggesting this. I’d expected it.
What I don’t have is the answer he wants to hear.
I don’t think Kevin is a bad person, but I don’t think he’s always had my best interests at heart.
That may be because he was thinking of the band as a whole, and so maybe, if he’s my manager as a solo artist, he would advocate better for me.
But I’m not fully convinced. And I don’t want to feel pressure to give him an answer now, even though it feels second-nature to tell him what he wants to hear. I need to stop doing that to myself.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him honestly.
“Okay,” he says, clearly resigned to this fate. “I guess I’d better head to Haven.”
“I am sorry for the hassle,” I say – that people-pleaser in me piping up despite myself. Because when I take a second to consider this, I don’t think I am sorry. This is business. This is the way it goes.
“You shouldn’t be.” He stands. “God knows you’ve been messed around enough over the years. It’s a nice change for you to do the messing around.”
I stand and fold my arms. I don’t say that I agree with him, but I do.
“How is Clarence?” I ask, out of nowhere.
“Oh, he’s very happy. Back in New York. Got a regular gig in some jazz bar. The tour paid his bills for a few years. He’s going to be living the life he always wanted to live, professional musician with absolutely no drama.”
“Good, I’m happy for him,” I say. “Do you have a number for him?”
“Yes, I’ll get it to you.”
“Thank you,” I say, wondering already if I could coax Clarence away from that life when it comes to recording my debut solo album.
“Even if you don’t want me as your manager,” Kevin says as he reaches for his car keys. “I hope we can stay friends, keep in touch.”
“Of course, Kevin,” I say, and I feel a punch of emotion in my gut. “Of course, we’ll stay friends.”
“I know Martin and Pia…” he begins, but I hold a hand up.
“That’s for Martin and Pia to figure out.”
As if summoned by her name, I hear the front door slam shut. Kevin and I are walking across the kitchen when Pia appears in the doorway.
“Oh, you’re still here,” she says to Kevin.
“Lovely to see you too, Pia.” He flashes her a disingenuous smile.
“Play nice,” I say to them both.
“Yeah, I mean just because me and Martin are…together.” Kevin stumbles only slightly. “Doesn’t mean I am an extension of him.”
“I’m not mad at Martin.” Pia goes to the fridge and grabs a Coke. “He can’t help being a bossy asshole.”
A burst of laughter flies out of Kevin’s mouth. “I don’t disagree. But seriously, he cares about you.”
Pia’s eyebrows lift. “He has a funny way of showing it.”
“Hmm.” Kevin crosses the remaining distance in the kitchen. “Maybe you and him have more in common than you think, then?”
He walks out before Pia can reply.
“What was that?” She points at the space he just vacated.
“I think he was trying to say that you and Martin may try to come across as tough nuts, but actually”–I walk up to her and wrap my arms around her waist–“there’s a softness inside you.”
Pia smooths my hair away from my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“How was your appointment?” I ask.
A sequence of emotions flutters over Pia’s face.
This was not Pia’s first appointment with her ear doctor. She went yesterday for her intake appointment, and we were both shocked when he asked to see her again today, but apparently, even ENT doctors can be a little star-struck and will make anything happen for their favourite musician.
It’s hard to call what happened yesterday a success, as it resulted in Dr Gupta concluding that Pia has moderate hearing loss in her right ear and moderately severe hearing loss in the other.
His assessment was that the cause was likely a combination of exposure to loud noises over the last decade or so along with a possible genetic predisposition to hearing loss – something that Pia was quick to blame on her absent father.
Pia didn’t want to talk about it much after she gave me the rundown. We’d spent much of the evening curled up together on the couch listening to Joan Armitrading, and I didn’t say anything when I felt a few of her tears fall on my chest.
But I’d been very relieved when she’d gone to her appointment today.
Finally, Pia’s expression lands on something like apprehensive joy. She turns her head and lifts her hair. “Look.”
The hearing aid curls around her ear. It’s bulky and a strange yellow colour, but I didn’t even notice it when she had her hair down.
“Is it on?”
She nods.
“And?” I demand, so very curious.
“It’s strange,” she says. “But I can definitely hear more.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She nods, and I know she’s trying to control her smile.
“Like, I could hear you and Kevin talking as I walked down the corridor. Normally, I don’t hear people until I’m in the room with them.
And in the car on the way back here, Heather had her radio on, and I could hear it almost too loudly.
It was ABBA, so I told her to turn it down. ”
“Of course you did,” I say, laughing, imagining it only too easy.
“It’s a strange sound, though. It makes voices sound a little robotic. A bit like aliens. But Dr Gupta says that will get better with time. My brain will get used to it.”
“So you only have it on your left ear right now?”
“Yes, for now. He wants to see how I get on for the next few months with just one before we try another.”
I close the small distance between us, squeezing her tightly. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Well, the real test will come recording or performing.”
I pull back. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know what I’ll do if singing sounds … weird. Like, I know I’m known for shouting and all, but I still need a tune. I still need to hear a melody. What if all of that goes out of whack with this thing.” She taps the side of her head.
“Let’s try it,” I say, and I disentangle myself from her, grab her hand and lead Pia to my music room. I sit us both at my piano stool – spare a brief moment thinking about what happened here a few days ago – and then, with a blush in my cheeks, I place my hands on the keys.
“What shall we sing?” I ask.
“You,” she says with a hesitant look on her face. “You sing.”
My smile grows slowly. “Oh, I know what I’ll sing.”
Pia rolls her eyes. “As if I can’t guess.”
But as I play the opening chords, it becomes clear from Pia’s wide eyes and open mouth that she really can’t guess. When I start singing the first line of “Trying to Forget About You,” she looks completely flabbergasted.
I get halfway through the first chorus, when she stops me, her hands landing on mine.
“How … how do you know that song?”
“I heard a recording of it. You sang it in Amsterdam, that night, before I saw you.”
“A recording?”
“Yes, it was on Radio 1.”
“Shit, yes, it was.”
“I heard a rumour about it and got Nora to pull far too many strings to get a recording. I had it with me every day for the last few weeks of our tour, played it on my Walkman every night. It didn’t take long to learn.”
I’ve never seen Pia speechless, and maybe I should make more of this moment, but I want to sing the rest of the song to her. So, I gently place her hands back on her lap, and I go back to singing and playing.
To her credit, Pia lets me finish the song. Even as the last note sounds out through the room, she doesn’t say anything. Somehow, I know the hearing aid helped. And somehow, I also know that my song choice had an even bigger impact on her.
This is all confirmed when she brings my face to hers for a long, deep kiss and I feel the undeniable moisture of tears cooling on her cheeks.