“So, what do you think?” I ask as I sit back and size him up. I’ve just played through all of my tracks for him, giving him a full overview of the album. There are still some tweaks to make, but it’s almost there.
“Amazing stuff,” James says eagerly, nodding his head enthusiastically. “I mean, Ben, this is really going to put you on the map. You’re hitting almost all the right notes, no pun intended…” His voice trails off and I can tell he’s hesitating to go on.
“Almost all the right notes?” I ask, prompting him. I already have a guess as to what he’s going to say.
“It’s just that last track. I’m not sure about that one.”
I let out a heavy sigh. I know exactly which one he means.
“Yeah. That’s the last one I wrote. It’s the one I had the most trouble with, to be honest.”
“It doesn’t fit, you know?” James says. “It sounds like more of your old stuff, not like the other newer stuff on here. The rest of the album has that more lyrical, romantic vibe and that one’s just angry.”
“Yeah, I wrote it after Lacy left,” I reply darkly, slouching down in my chair.
“Wait, what? When did that happen? Why didn’t you tell me?” James asks, his face full of concern. “What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I reply gruffly. I’m almost embarrassed to admit what happened, because the more I think about how it all went down, the more convinced I am that it was my fault.
“Come on, man. Talk to me. Here, let’s grab a drink.” James strides over to the far side of the recording studio, where I keep a well-stocked bar, and pours two whiskies, neat, for us.
I take the glass he offers me and clink it against his begrudgingly. Maybe James is right. Maybe talking about it will make me feel better. Maybe that’s what I need to get out of the artistic rut I’ve been in since Lacy left.
“So? What happened? She decided the rock star lifestyle wasn’t for her?” James asks, settling into the chair opposite me.
“No, nothing like that. I don’t know…” My voice trails off as I hesitate getting into the details. But then I decide, fuck it, and take a deep gulp of air and spill it all.
“I don’t know, it started in LA I guess. On that trip when she came, where you met her. I took her to my favorite piano bar on her last night—”
“Yikes, that dump? No wonder she left,” James says teasingly, but then stops short when he sees my pained face. “Sorry, man, go ahead.”
“Anyway, it was a weird night. Someone asked us about our relationship and I kept it vague, like you said. Then some paparazzi almost caught us kissing outside the club, so I had to push her off of me. I didn’t want them getting a picture of us together after all the incest rumors that were going around.”
I pause, looking down at the glass in my hand, remembering how hurt Lacy looked in that moment. My heart twists with an uncomfortable pang. James knows better than to say something now and remains silent, waiting for me to go on.
“Things were already all fucked up by the time we got back to Rose Manor,” I continue. “She was barely talking to me. And then that interview I’d been helping her prepare for got bumped up. I was supposed to go with her. But we got into this dumb fight right before she left. I was feeling inspired and wanted to get this one song done. I told her we could leave for the interview after. Then she accused me of not holding up my part of our deal, of not helping her really prep for the interview, even though I’d been offering to. She’d just been icing me out. We got pissed and sad dumb shit. And then she just left. Like everyone else,” I conclude gloomily. “I should have known she’d leave.”
I finally raise my eyes from my glass, looking at James despondently. I’m expecting sympathy, a clap on the shoulder maybe, some words of comfort. But instead, James slams his glass of whiskey down on the table in front of him.
“What the hell were you thinking?!”
I stare at him in shock. It’s not the reaction I was expecting from my old friend and manager.
“You let her just walk out the door? You didn’t go after her?”
“She made it clear she didn’t want me,” I reply icily, feeling defensive and annoyed by James’s words.
“Lacy was the best goddamned thing that ever happened to you, personally and professionally,” James says. “She’s the one who helped get you out of your writer’s block funk when you had holed up at Rose Manor like some lunatic hermit. There was something different about this album, and I suspect it was all due to her influence.”
“Look, man, what was I supposed to do? She made it clear she didn’t want to be with me, that she didn’t want me,” I retort angrily.
“Yeah, because you pushed her away! Literally!”
“What, you mean the photo thing? Come on, I was just following your advice. I wanted to keep things on the down-low until we’d figured out our story.”
“Right, but did you ever actually talk to her? Did you reassure her in any way in a private conversation? Or did you just get caught up in the public persona side of things?”
“I guess I was focused on the public side of things,” I admit darkly.