“Fuck, don’t say that to me. We’re so close to negotiating your contract. The last thing we need is trouble.”
“It’s not bad press, Robert. If anything, it would most likely feed the interest.”
He sighed, and I could tell he was sitting down to steel himself for whatever I was about to say. “Tell me.”
“Bristol was at my grandmother’s when I called. She said a couple had just left. At first Bristol thought they were interested in the house. Turns out, they were reporters. They got her name and took her picture.”
“That sucks for Bristol. She managed to stay out of the limelight all this time, just for something like that to happen. Do you think they’ve been watching the house? Or Bristol?”
Anger boiled up. If I found out it was Mack, I’d punch him again.
“I don’t know how they would find out about Bristol. My guess is they were watching the house.”
Robert cleared his throat. “Do you want to get ahead of it?”
“If you mean get ahead of it by saying something about Bristol, then no. I will never mention her unless she agrees to it or she says something first. Otherwise, it’s out of the question.”
I could almost feel him nodding. “Okay. Then let’s just move on. You’ve got three shows left and then a week-long break. Then we’re heading to Europe to finish out the last few dates of the tour that you had to reschedule when you got the flu. I also got a call from Lindsey Ashton’s manager. They want to do another duet, but with a spin on it. The song was written by Lindsey’s new husband. They’re pitching it as a video, the two of you singing as Ryan is playing the guitar.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Why are they pitching another song?”
“Yes, and why the show of Lindsey and her husband playing with me?”
“You both won male and female vocalist of the year. You both had a number one single together, and besides, Lindsey is tired of the rumors that you two had a fling and that Ryan can’t stand you.”
“For fuck’s sake, Ryan and I just wrote a damn song together, Robert.”
“Yes, that hasn’t been recorded or released, or even talked about. Rachel—you remember her, she’s Lindsey’s manager—she wants to set up an interview with the three of you where you can casually mention the song writing and the new song you have that will hopefully be coming out on a new record. She was thinking Ryan could pull out his guitar and you could both sing a few lines.”
I sliced my fingers through my hair as Zeus barked for me to throw the ball again. I absentmindedly picked it up and threw it.
“You know I hate playing games, Robert.”
“Yes, and I also know you want the rumors about you and Lindsey to stop.”
He had me on that one. I wished I could just go away for a few months. Out of sight, out of mind, if only for a few weeks.
“I need a vacation, Robert. Time away from everything. The public eye, the record company, prying eyes that are always on me. I’ve been going non-stop for six years. I’m tired.”
“Okay, once this tour is over, we can arrange that. Where do you want to go?”
“Somewhere where no one gives a shit who I am. And nobody wants anything from me. I want to walk into a restaurant and not have cell phones come out to take my picture.”
“You’ve got enough money to buy your own island, Anson.”
I closed my eyes. “I don’t want my own island. I want a sense of peace, Robert. I’m very blessed, I know that. I know this gig landed in my lap, and I have no right to complain. But I’m exhausted, both physically and mentally. I’ve lost a lot, and what I did lose, all the money in the world can’t buy it back.”
“It or her?” he asked.
I chose to ignore him. “I’m just letting you know, after the tour is up, I’m telling Lanny I’m out of pocket for a couple of months. Maybe I’ll stay in Europe for a month or two. People tend to leave you alone in Europe.”
“As long as there’s a recording studio where you’re going.”
My entire body slumped. “Right, because I didn’t just say I wanted a break.”
He completely ignored me and went on. “I’ll meet you at the arena tomorrow afternoon. Does Lanny have everything for the meet-and-greet?”
“Does she ever not?”
He laughed. “Get a good night’s sleep, Anson. You’ll be able to take a break soon. Just think about it: you, a beach villa, a notebook and pen in your hand. The perfect storm. I feel good things are going to come in the way of words.”
For the first time in my life, I had no desire to write a song. To sing a song. To even think about music. The only thing I could think about was Bristol. And the sadness in her voice.