Chapter Twelve Adam #2
“Can we at least try the casino first? We can see if anyone wants to buy the chips off us, or we can play a round of blackjack. Can we try that? Please?”
I rake my teeth over my bottom lip, completely helpless in the wake of that one word from Eleanor. And really, she’s right. Billy doesn’t need to be involved in this.
It’s something I have struggled with, in the past—knowing where to draw the line with Billy between the personal and the professional. Knowing how to draw a line in the first place.
The closest I’ve come was about a year ago, right before Billy got sober.
We’d gone to a show in Silver Lake together, to see an up-and-coming band that was getting a lot of buzz.
We weren’t the only industry people in the audience that night, and after the first set I made my way over to the bar where Billy was camped out, drinking and networking.
He was quick to introduce me to a producer, someone he’d worked with before, albeit with an artist Billy no longer repped.
“Adam, do you know Rob Grimmer?”
“No, I don’t think we’ve met.” I stuck out my hand. “Adam Shaw.”
“Adam is my old protégé. He’s over at Exeter now, killing it.”
We shook hands and Rob nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same. You enjoying the show?”
“For sure.” Rob glanced away as the bartender set three bottles down by his elbow. He passed over a few bills before turning back to me. “I’ve been following them for a while, but it’s nice when a band holds up live.”
“They’re something special,” Billy said with a decisive nod, and I had to suppress an eye roll because he spent the first few songs complaining to me about how overrated they were before I abandoned him at the bar so I could actually hear them play.
“Anyway, I should get these to my friends,” Rob said before gathering all three bottles in one hand. “But I’m glad I ran into you guys.”
“We’ll see you around,” Billy told him.
“Bet.” Rob clasped each of our hands once more before heading over to his group.
“Sorry about that,” Billy said as soon as Rob was out of earshot. “Guy is a fucking hack.”
I frowned. “Thought you worked with him more than once.”
Billy shrugged at this. “He used to be decent, I guess. Now he’s a has-been, lurking around clubs like this trying to drum up business.”
I took a long swig of beer and swallowed back the comment my mind supplied: Sort of like you?
It had started to bug the hell out of me, how underhanded Billy could be—he talked more shit than anyone I’d ever met, but never had a bad word to say to anyone’s face.
Being my mentor, Billy had introduced me to countless people.
Many of whom he genuinely liked and respected—he’d helped me make some really incredible connections when I was starting out.
He’d always been pathologically complimentary about me, seemingly unable to resist singing my praises or calling out a recent accomplishment, to the point it was sometimes embarrassing.
But looking across the crowd at Rob, I grew uneasy for an entirely different reason.
I couldn’t help but wonder what happened when I was the one to walk away first. Whether Billy had ever turned to his contact and immediately started backpedaling about me, telling them I was Atlas Shaw’s kid, that he’d taken me under his wing out of pity, that truth be told he didn’t really recommend working with me.
I went home after the show and couldn’t wind down, kept replaying past encounters from events I’d attended with Billy, looking for some clue I might’ve missed that he wasn’t always on my side.
I hated that I was even questioning it, but once the seed was planted, I couldn’t get it out of my head.
By morning I’d made a decision. I needed to take a step back from Billy—stop attending anything industry-related with him, at the very least. Just until I felt more established in my own career.
Until I’d solidified my own reputation. I hoped it could be a subtle shift in our relationship, because frankly I had no idea how I’d ever tell him.
Then the accident happened. And clients and friends started dropping him in droves, and I couldn’t pile on, I couldn’t abandon him like everyone else. And I knew that no matter how gently I tried to distance myself, even if it was only on a professional level, he’d take it that way.
He’s been better, since then. Sober, and generally less two-faced and prickly as a result. So I’ve continued to push it to the back of my mind. But I know it’s probably still in my best interest to establish some boundaries between our personal and professional lives.
“Okay,” I tell Eleanor. “Yeah, we can try the casino. I won’t call Billy.”
I glance at my watch. One hour until I’m meant to be at the brewery, and I still have to pick up my ID.
Whatever is going on between Eleanor and me, eventually we’re going to have to deal with the actual reason we both came to Vegas.
I should be focused on work. She should be focused on work.
Running around a casino and losing more money is not going to help anyone.
But it’s what Eleanor wants to do. And somewhere along the line, giving her what she wants became irresistible to me.