Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Coy
The closet door opens. Then closes.
Clothes hit the floor.
A hairbrush sweeps through Bellamy’s hair, the sound much louder than I ever realized that brushing hair can be.
Then, as if I wasn’t prodded awake enough, the curtains are pulled back, and sunlight shines in the room.
“What. Are. You. Doing?” I ask, covering my head with a pillow. “I thought we were sleeping in today.”
“Who said that?” Bells asks.
“I don’t know. Me. You. Logic?”
She laughs and sits next to me on the side of her bed. “Bree will be here in a little bit.”
I groan.
“I’m going to assume you want to put on some clothes before she gets here?” Bellamy asks.
I peek out from beneath the pillow. My brain is still a haze from sleep, and my body just wants to pull her under the blankets and have a lazy day together.
“Can you cancel?” I ask.
“No. It’s my job. You can’t just cancel.”
I grin sleepily. “I had a number-one album most of the year. I’m pretty sure I can cover your pay.”
She takes a pillow from beside my head and hits me with it.
“Fine,” I grumble, yanking the blankets off my body. My cock is on high alert with a fine morning wood. “Look at what you’re missing.”
She gets up quickly and walks to the other side of the room. “I’m not going to touch it, or I will end up canceling, and then I’ll lose my job.”
“Again, I can pay you.”
“Will you shut up?” She laughs. “Get dressed, and then we can talk.”
I grab myself and jack it a few times just to get a reaction out of her. Her eyes go wide, and she bites her bottom lip.
“We could do some oral reciprocation,” I offer her. “My tongue on your pussy and your little mouth right here.”
“I don’t have time.” She pouts. “Why do I have to be a nanny?”
I snort and sit up.
A phone rings on the dresser. Bellamy keeps her eyes glued to my cock as she picks it up.
“Maybe it’s Lauren canceling again,” she says, whimpering as I stroke myself again.
She brings the phone in front of her. “Oh.” The playfulness leaves her face. “This is yours.”
My hands fall from my body as a cold chill kills my hard-on. I take the phone from Bells and look at the screen.
Meadow.
“I’ll call her back,” I say, hoping Bellamy doesn’t hear the strain in my voice. “I think she wants to talk contract.”
And when I need to leave.
The idea of leaving Savannah causes a visceral reaction inside me. It’s an intuitive, buried-in-the-depths-of-my-guts kind of feeling that Meadow’s call isn’t just a scheduling or contract issue.
It’s more.
Something I’m not going to like.
I look at Bells and smile. “Rain check on the oral?”
She nods, her eyes weary.
“What time is it?” I ask her.
“Eight. Or close to it.”
“Shit.” I scrub my hand over my face. “It’s too early for me to deal with Bree. Can I go to Mom’s and get a shower, and you can bring her over in an hour or so?”
She nods again.
I get to my feet and walk over to her. “It’s you and me. Right? No matter what Meadow has to say or what happens otherwise, it’s you and me.”
A slow smile ghosts her lips. “Yes. It’s you and me.” She kisses me softly. “Now go before Bree gets here and sees you naked.”
“I’d be more worried about Lauren seeing me.”
Bellamy laughs and picks up my clothes off the floor, and hands them to me.
I get my jeans and sweater back on with an audience of one.
“Want to go with me to take Gramps to dinner?” I ask her. “I haven’t seen him yet and want to before I leave.”
“Sure.”
“He loves Judy’s, this place downtown. It’s pretty good. I can call him and make sure he doesn’t have a pressing golf re-run on television tonight.”
She laughs. “Sounds like a plan.”
I kiss her again. “Now I’m going to head out before I run into Lauren and Bree. I just don’t have it in me this morning.”
“Go.” She swats my ass. “I’ll see you in an hour or so.”
I make my way through her house and down the path toward the gate. My stomach churns as I get farther away from Bellamy’s house.
My phone feels like a bomb in my hand. As soon as I’m on the other side, I open my telephone app. There’s a missed call from Meadow and a voicemail.
I click the icon for the message.
“Hi, Coy, it’s Meadow. I hope you’re having a good morning so far.
I need you to get on a plane and get back to Nashville today.
We have a meeting with the label at nine in the morning.
Apparently, Willa went out over the weekend and stupidly made some statement to a paparazzi about you—which I’ve already contacted her about—but it’s going to break today, and that’s not going to do you any favors.
We need to get in there and get this contract signed and the ink dry before they can change their mind. Call me back as soon as you get this.”
I stop next to my parents’ trash can.
My blood runs cold as I look at my phone.
There’s too much to process to be able to do it quickly or well.
Meadow’s words fly through my brain like a kite on crack.
Stupidly made a statement.
Going to break today.
Not going to do you any favors.
Change their minds.
My brain immediately picks up on Willa making a statement that will break, and concern flips to Bellamy.
“What the fuck did Willa say?” I wonder out loud.
I press Meadow’s name. Every ring heightens my anxiety, and when the call goes to voicemail, I see red.
“Hey, Meadow, it’s Coy. Look, I don’t know what Willa said, but you better let her know that I’m not fucking with her.
My name shouldn’t be tied to hers at all, but thanks to you, I guess it is.
If she uses my name to get sympathy or hurts my reputation any more, I will sue her fucking ass.
Got it? Let her know. And I can’t just come back to Nashville tonight. ”
My gaze travels over the fence.
I can’t leave Bellamy right now. Not this quick. I need to be here until Joe starts the new chemo at the very least. I need to make sure she knows we’re solid before I jet off for Tennessee.
“I had a family emergency yesterday, so I’ll come back to Nashville in a couple of days, a week at most. Change the meeting. Call me if you have questions.”
I end the call.
Fuck her.
I throw open the kitchen door and march inside. I sift through the big paparazzi websites on my phone as I make my way upstairs.
Finally, I find it.
Is Kelvin McCoy Headed to Rehab?
I skim the article.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say as I read.
Anger and disbelief shatter the happiness I’ve built over the past few days, and I’m pissed that I pulled up the article at all.
It’s total bullshit and to think that people can print this kind of thing and get away with it is bizarre and disgusting.
My phone buzzes, and Meadow’s name flashes on the screen.
“You better have handled that,” I bark.
“Calm down.”
“Really?” I squeeze my phone so hard that I think it might break into two pieces. “You want me to calm down when your prodigy is out there trying to ruin my motherfucking life?”
“Don’t use that language with me. I’d appreciate it if you could be professional.”
I laugh angrily. “Me too, Meadow. Me. Too. But the unprofessionalism started when you concocted this whole thing with Willa and then let her call the shots. You haven’t taken my side one fucking time and—”
“Yes, I have. I can’t control Willa. And she didn’t make that statement. Her new boyfriend did.”
“No, she did. The onus is on her. It’s on you, really, in my opinion.”
My voice raises to a level that I’m not proud of. I suck in a breath to try to calm down.
“She’s going to put out a statement today that says things were misconstrued,” Meadow says.
“She’s going to say it’s a bunch of garbage. That it’s not true. At all.”
“I’m taking care of it.” Finality oozes from her tone. “Now I need you to meet me in Nashville in the morning so we can get this contract finalized before they change their mind again.”
I sigh. “I don’t even know what they’re offering. And you expect me to run back and sign something?”
“I’m sending you and your attorney a copy this morning. It will be there by lunchtime.”
“And I’ll look at it for a couple of days and let you know.”
I hit the speakerphone button and set my phone on my desk. I’m too angry, too shaky, to hold it. I need to move, to pace, to rid myself of some of this energy before I blow.
“That doesn’t work,” she says.
“Too bad.”
“Coy, look, I’m not pulling punches here.
I’ve expressed to you—repeatedly—why this contract is on shaky ground.
I want to get you the best deal I can, but for that to happen, you need to cooperate.
” She releases a frustrated breath. “I negotiated this all weekend. It’s the best deal we’re going to get.
Two albums, one in June and one in January—”
“That’s crazy—”
“That’s fair,” she says over my start of an objection.
I growl into the air.
“It’s good money. Good royalties. The terms are solid.
Soren Benson is Bob’s replacement post-merger, and he wants to meet with you in the morning.
I’ve told him what an amazing artist you are and how the press has the wrong image of you.
How you are working on it,” she emphasizes.
“I painted you to be the face of their label in country music for the next three decades, and now you have to back me up.”
I close my eyes and grind my teeth together.
“If you don’t show up tomorrow, Coy, this deal might go down the drain, and I don’t think we’ll get anything even close to it again.”
I consider saying no. I consider telling Meadow that I’ll be back on my terms, and she can deal with the fallout then. But when I put myself in that position, I think about all the work I’ve done that will have gone to waste.
Starting over at another label won’t be simple. Or quick.
The dead time factored into all of that could very easily be a career-ruining moment for me.
I walk over to the window and look at the Davenport’s house. My heart bleeds for them.
Can I risk not going?
Can I risk leaving?
I hang my head and sigh.
“Coy? Are you still there?” Meadow asks.
“Yeah.”
“Tomorrow at nine. You will be here, right?” she asks.
I cover my face with my hands and say a prayer that I’m doing the right thing.
I can go and then come right back. I’ll figure it out.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice rough. “I’ll be there.”
“Great,” she chirps in relief. “See you then. Travel safe.”
The line goes dead.