Chapter Twenty Adam
Alone in the greenroom, I’m not sure what to do with myself. Whether I should wait right here for Eleanor to come back, or go check if the rest of the band is still fighting, or maybe find Jane and see if she knows what kind of food they’ll serve at the wrap party.
If they’re even having the wrap party anymore.
I drag both hands down my face, scrubbing my palms against my scruff, and snag one of the bottles of water lined up on a nearby table. I sit down on the couch across the room and take a drink, then fiddle with the cap for a few seconds.
Nervous energy twists through me, and it has very little to do with the band.
I’m glad Eleanor is talking to Sheridan, and I genuinely hope it’s good news for her.
Eleanor needs this deal more than I do. She deserves it more too.
They’d be stupid to go with anyone else, me included.
But I do wish Fiona had come by a few minutes later.
Given me enough time to figure out what was going through Eleanor’s head.
Something changed when she found out about Freddie and Billy.
It’s not just that she was pissed—Eleanor had every right to be upset with me, and I deserved a dressing-down.
But it wasn’t anger I read on her face before Fiona walked in.
It was doubt. Like she was second-guessing starting something with me, trusting me, all of it.
I blow out a breath and lean forward to brace my elbows on my knees and hang my head.
Which is how Freddie finds me a moment later.
He sweeps into the room and collapses onto the couch next to me with a groan. “What a shit show, huh?”
No response to that seems particularly safe, so I lift my head and simply nod.
He stares up at the ceiling for a beat, then pushes himself forward to mirror my posture. “Anyway, this isn’t how I wanted to do this, but whatever. We want to sign with you, man.”
Ah, fuck.
A dozen competing emotions hit me at once, all of them tangled together and lodged behind my sternum. “… The whole band is on board with that decision?”
Freddie’s face scrunches up in an irritated way. “Wasn’t exactly unanimous. I don’t know what’s going on with Sher tonight, but she’ll come around. I can talk her around.”
It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as me. I look down at the plastic bottle in my hands. My thumb scrapes at the paper label, shredding it. “Look, man… I appreciate the opportunity, but I’m going to have to pass.”
Freddie blinks owlishly at me for several seconds before he turns away with a scoff. He turns back, looking even more incredulous. “What do you mean, you have to pass? You made us the offer.”
“It’s no longer on the table.”
Oh, Eleanor is going to kill me. She’ll think I’m turning this down for her, which is only partly true, and not really something I see a problem with.
It’s simple: I want to be with her more than I want to work with any one band.
Beyond that, I don’t particularly want to work with this asshole anymore.
I mean, hell, after what I witnessed tonight, I’m not even sure how legitimate Freddie’s decision is. He’s always been sort of the default leader of the group, but why is he the only one in here right now? Where are the others?
Freddie’s jaw ticks. “Come on, Shaw. Just like that? Billy said you—”
“Billy Draper doesn’t speak for me.”
I set my water bottle down on the side table and push to my feet.
Clearly, the option to stay here and wait for Eleanor is no longer viable.
Things just got real awkward, and Freddie seems frayed thin.
His knee is bouncing and he’s cracking his knuckles.
He looks like he’s a heartbeat away from hitting something.
And I’ve already been punched in the face once today, so I’m out.
“I’m sure you’ll land somewhere great,” I tell him as I walk away.
Not twenty minutes later, Billy is calling me.
I’m standing on the sidewalk outside the venue, already staring at my phone, when his name pops up on the screen.
Eleanor hasn’t come out yet. I’ve been out here racking my brain, trying to figure out a way to prove to her that I mean what I say.
To convince her I’ll never lie to her or hide anything from her again.
Funnily enough, the only solution I’d come up with was talking to Billy. But I hadn’t quite figured out what I wanted to say to him yet. Now he’s calling, and there’s no point in putting it off.
“Hey,” I answer.
“What’s this I hear about you walking away from Dempsey?”
I huff a dry laugh and run a hand over my mouth. “What, did Freddie call you? God, he’s such a little bitch.”
Billy snorts on the other end of the line. “He is. But yeah, he called. Because I’m the one who connected you two. Do you not see how bad this makes me look?”
Guilt stabs through my stomach. I hadn’t thought of it that way. But then, why would I have? The decision wasn’t about Billy. It’s my career. My call.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out. It just wasn’t a good fit.”
“A good fit,” Billy repeats, like it’s the most idiotic thing he’s ever heard. “We’ve been over this. They’re on the precipice; their next album could be massive. You had it in the fucking bag, Adam. What the hell happened out there to make you walk?”
“Look, the band’s politics are a mess right now—”
Billy cuts me off with a huff. “So, what? You’re going to hand them over to Eleanor Thompson on a silver platter?”
Groups of concertgoers are scattered around me, some waiting for rides while others loudly debate where to go next. But it all fades to nothing, drowned out by my own pulse roaring in my ear.
My grip tightens around my phone. “Why do you care?”
“Excuse me?”
“I know this was a potential opportunity for you too. But from the way Freddie talks about it, you have a good shot at getting hired as their new manager regardless of what label they land with. So why does it matter whether she’s the one who signs them?”
Billy makes a petulant noise. I can picture him angrily pacing around his home office, shelves lined with music memorabilia and relics of his glory days. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’d throw an opportunity like this away. And don’t give me that bullshit about the band’s politics.”
My jaw twitches. “I need you to be straight with me, Billy. Did you send me here specifically because it was Eleanor’s meeting?”
“No. What the fuck? I told you this morning, I never mentioned it was her because I didn’t think it mattered. Clearly, I was wrong about that.”
This last part is muttered under his breath, and I can’t let it bait me. I remember Eleanor’s reaction, when she asked me not to call Billy to ask for his help earlier. How worried she was that word would get back to Griffin. I don’t want to drag her into the conversation… but I have to know.
“So Griffin Hastings didn’t put you up to this?”
“Put me up to what?” Billy is getting pissed now. I hear a cabinet door slam in the background.
“Coming to Vegas. Going after Dempsey… Going after Eleanor.”
“Jesus, kid. I don’t know where you’re getting this stuff, but no. I sent you there because Freddie wanted to meet with someone else and I thought they were perfect for your list.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Billy wouldn’t use me as a pawn. But he might, if he didn’t realize Griffin was using him as one too.
My hand falls back to my side, and I tip my head back, staring up at the dark sky. What little of it I can see, past all the bright lights of the city. “So he was never involved in any of this? You never spoke to Hastings about Dempsey?”
Billy hesitates. “We had lunch a few weeks back. It came up. But I still don’t see what the issue is here.”
Goddamn it.
I sigh and stare down at the pavement beneath my feet. I can’t tell Billy about Eleanor, but maybe that’s fine. Because none of this is really about her. It’s about me and Billy, and about the changes I need to make moving forward.
“The issue is that this whole thing has felt underhanded,” I tell him.
Billy scoffs in my ear. “It’s just business.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing yourself say that?” I snap. “It’s like your catchphrase. Every time you get called out for doing something shitty, you say it’s just business, like it excuses any and all bad behavior. But it’s not the only way to do business, Billy.”
For years I’ve told myself Billy is a good guy. Or maybe a not-so-good guy, but one I could always find a way to defend because without him, I wouldn’t be where I am. But clearly, I can’t be as objective about Billy as I thought. Me standing here is proof of that.
“You know I care about you, man. And you know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me in my career.
” I toe the sidewalk and swallow thickly.
I picture his face on my graduation day, the pride, the loud, embarrassing whistle he let out when they called my name.
He’s taken his clients leaving so hard, and I never wanted to be one of the people who hurt him that way.
Then I picture my mom, giving me that look she’s been giving me my whole life, every time I drag my feet around a difficult decision. The raised eyebrow and pursed lips that say, you already know the right move, so make it.
Another inhale, and I force myself to spit it out: “I want us to have a relationship, but I can’t work with you anymore. And I don’t know if you’ll wanna be in my life if we never talk shop, but I hope you will be.”
Billy’s quiet for long enough I check the screen to make sure he hasn’t hung up on me. My heart inches up my throat, and for a moment I feel eight years old again. Just… hoping.
“You’re the closest thing I’ve got to family, kid.”
I wince and open my mouth to try to soften the blow, but nothing comes out. It is what it is.
“If that’s how you want things, then that’s how it’ll be. Besides”—he huffs a laugh—“I probably don’t have many years left in the industry.”
Guilt and relief battle for top billing inside me. “I don’t know about that—”
“Hey, I’ve had a good run. But I know I’m no one’s top choice anymore.” He sighs. “I want you to succeed, Adam. And I want you to do it better than I did, you know? Figure out a way to succeed and not wind up alone, if you can.”
My gaze lifts to the stage door along the side of the venue. To where I’ve been waiting for Eleanor. “That would be nice,” I manage. “Thank you for understanding, Billy. We’ll talk more when I’m back in LA, yeah?”
“You got it, kid.”