“I’m staying with Elite.” He emitted a low exhalation that was a borderline growl, followed by, “Mags. Always a pleasure,” before excusing himself and leading Presley in the opposite direction.
“The pleasure was mine!” Mags called after them, loud enough to be heard over the entire party. Forget the storm that smashed into Beaumont Bay a few months ago, Mags was a force of nature with twice the wallop.
Cash steered them to the bar, set his Coke down and instructed, “Jack Daniels, rocks.” Then to Presley he promised, “I can still drive the boat.”
Once he’d taken a hearty sip of his drink and they’d moved to a less populated room in Mags’s mansion, they walked out onto a small landing. Presley rested her forearms on the railing and looked down at the guests milling around below. She could feel that Cash had something to say, so she gazed up at the stars and waited for him to come around to it.
“She doesn’t give up,” he finally said. “She’s been pressuring me for years. Went as far as offering me a movie role with one of her director friends in Hollywood. She doesn’t care about my success. She wants the clout. Wants to be tied to every big name in the business. She went after Hannah the same way a few months ago. Nearly broke up Will and Hannah in the process. There’s nothing magnanimous about what Mags does. Not ever.”
Presley had zero doubts that Mags was the complete opposite of magnanimous after their brief meeting.
“That woman could drive the soberest man to drink,” he muttered.
“Why do you guys come to these things?”
“You met a lot of people tonight. Famous people.”
She had.
“Relationships are forged at these parties. Friendships made. Mags is the price of admission, and everyone is willing to pay. When Cheating Hearts was the only recording studio in the Bay, Mags was... Well, she was never nice, but she wasn’t as villainous. When she had competition, she got worse.”
“So on the one hand Elite Records makes connections at these events, but on the other they are forced to play by Mags’s rules.”
“Lest we suffer her wrath.” He sipped his drink.
Presley blinked, a lightbulb of an epiphany flipping on in her head. “Literally, in your case.”
Cash frowned, not following her train of thought.
“At that last party. You said she approached you to record with her?”
“Yeah.”
“And you said no.”
“I said ‘hell no,’ but close enough.”
Presley touched his forearm. “And it was Mags who goaded you into one more drink when you were about to leave.”
“She’s persistent.”
“That checkpoint, the questionable reading on the Breathalyzer. Could that have been part of her ‘wrath’?”
His frown deepened, his eyes unfocused like he was thinking back to the night in question. “Earl.”
“Earl?”
“The officer who pulled me over. They’ve been seen in town together lately.” Cash’s lip curled. “Romantically.”
“Maybe he did her a favor. He set you up for her. That way she could approach you, claim to overlook your bad reputation and represent you anyway. Knowing you wouldn’t want to harm Elite Records.” It wasn’t so far-fetched to believe. Mags would do anything to stay on top. “I can blow this wide open. My article can be your saving grace. I can demand a public apology for you. I can—”
He pressed his finger to her lips before shaking his head. “Let it lie, Pres. It’s done.”
“It’s not done. It’s an outrage.”
“Past is past. No sense in dredging it up.” He tipped her chin and she tried not to look into his eyes, tried not to see clear through to the sentiment behind it, and how it reflected her own need to dredge up the past. To find out who had inspired him to write the most heart-rending lyrics she’d ever heard in her life. To slay that mystical beast Closure, no matter what it cost her in the short-term.
“I have an album to focus on,” he continued. “Elite Records is primed for a comeback. Write about that. No good can come of stirring the pot.”
“But your mug shot,” she tried.
“What’s done’s done.” His tone communicated he was also done having this conversation. “You ready to leave? It’s almost time for the fireworks.”
Heat shimmered in his eyes. She guessed he didn’t mean only the fireworks in the sky. He meant the ones that would happen once he set his lips to hers.