24: SOLUTIONS
It’s disturbing how much I miss Hannah when she’s not around. Whenever she’s scheduled to arrive, I sit here, staring at the door. She said eleven, after her counseling session, and it’s already over fifteen minutes past. A knock rushes through me in a wave of relief.
“Just come in,” I call out from the couch.
The door clicks and opens to my heart-stopping viper.
“Hey, beautiful,” I say.
She grins. “Hey, yourself. Those meds must be taking their toll.”
I laugh. “Why’s that?”
“Because you’ve got a goofy smile on your face.”
“Is that so? Or maybe it’s the girl in my foyer.” Totally worth it when she skips to the couch and launches into my arms.
A groan leaks past my grin, and she gasps.
“Oh, crap. Sorry!”
“Don’t worry about it. They’re already broken.”
She delivers a playful swat, and I draw her in for a long kiss. God, I missed those lips, the fire of her skin. My need becomes more desperate, and she melts against me.
“You sure this is okay?” she breathes. “You’re not in pain?”
I thread my fingers in her hair so she can’t pull away. “Not anymore.”
Her lips crash against mine, and by the hunger in her kiss I know she’s missed me just as much. I search for the soft skin under her shirt, and she clutches my hem. She starts to pull, and I secure her wrist.
I will never be able to stomach her disappointment.
“I want to see you,” she says, eyes pleading. “It’s been so long.”
“It’s not something you want to see.”
“There’s nothing about you I don’t want.”
Fuck. She’s straddling my hips and feeling my response.
“Show me,” she continues, firmer this time.
I let out a heavy breath, but don’t stop her when she slides my shirt up. I adjust so we can pull it off, and she settles back into position.
We’re silent as her gaze wanders over my body. It can’t be pretty with its rainbow of blues, yellows, and greens. Delicate fingertips trace the lines and touch gentle brushstrokes over each imperfection. Every so often she hits a particularly damaged area and triggers an involuntary hiss. But I never stop her. My body, everything about me, belongs to her.
“Are these wounds the end or the beginning?” she whispers finally.
I remove her hand and bring it to my lips. “Both.”
A breathtaking smile spreads over her face as she leans in. “Good.”
∞∞∞
I’m not thrilled about meeting the Label brass when I look like the loser of an MMA fight, but it’s time to own up. I promised Hannah an end to Old Wes and that means laying down my sword to fix things for Holland.
The others are already seated when I limp to the table and extend my hand. Two firm shakes and a kiss on the cheek later, and we’re ready for battle.
No lawyers present. Beacon of Hope Number One.
Raymond and Pam are still staring at us after I take my seat, and I can’t tell if it was the affectionate kiss I gave Holland or my messed-up face that’s derailed their agenda for lunch.
“You two appear to be getting along,” Pam says.
I look to Holland and I’m blasted with Drake-sunshine.
“Yeah, we’re good. Really good,” she says, sharing it with the Suits as well.
“That’s wonderful.” Pam’s tone is more “recovery-mode” than anything. I’m not sure why they wanted to meet, but I already see that their plan has changed.
“We’re going to keep writing together,” I add. Might as well stack the deck early. “Shandor can continue performing with them at the shows, but Holland and I will write for the band.”
It’s a good thing we haven’t started eating yet or they’d be choking right now. More headlines we don’t need.
The server interrupts for our drink orders, giving our stunned companions time to regroup. Hopefully they enjoyed that brief moment of stability because I’m already working on the next bombshell.
I cast a quick glance to Holland before facing the execs. “I also wanted to talk about a public apology and what I can do to fix things for the band.” Even Holland’s eyes widen in shock.
Raymond clears his throat. Pam reaches for her glass. Holland—yep, still gaping.
“I see. Well, okay,” Raymond says after a pause. “What did you have in mind?”
I shrug. “Whatever you want. You tell me what you need me to do. I was thinking Mila would be a good start.”
Pam nearly drops her water. “Mila Taylor?”
“Yeah. Think you can get me an interview? Might as well go to the source. If she’s going to attack me, it should be with the truth.”
“You want to sit down with Mila Taylor?” Pam asks. I’m not sure she heard the rest.
“I think that makes the most sense. If we can do it now, then maybe we can get the hype going in time to save the ‘Swan Song’ release. We frame it as our planned final album together before I planned to move on to other projects.” I check Holland’s reaction and love the look on her face. Yeah, sweetheart, I’ve been working shit out in my head too. “I mean, the album is freaking, ‘Swan Song.’ Who’s not going to believe it was meant to be the end of an era?”
“And all the rumors out there about the split?” But Raymond is just checking off boxes now. His brain is already making love to my plan.
“Eh, those were just rumors spread by my vengeful ex, Miranda. She spun the truth to get back at me. A few public appearances with Holland and no one will question it.”
“In fact, we’ll be playing together soon,” Holland announces, and all gazes shoot to her. My heart hammers at her mischievous grin. What the hell is she talking about?
Pam verbalizes the question first, and Holland’s response is so casual, I almost believe I’m forgetting something. Was I that drugged up from pain meds?
“Wes’s sister is getting married in a month and the band has agreed to back him up on a new song he wrote with my own sister, Hannah.”
“Tracing Holland is going to perform at Wes’s sister’s wedding?” Raymond says it like there’s a hidden camera somewhere ready to expose our prank.
Or maybe that’s my expression. Holland gives me an encouraging nod.
“Um… yeah,” I stammer. “Hannah and I have been working on it for a while. She’ll be performing it with us as well.”
“What’s this song called?” Pam asks, nearly salivating now.
I’m still in disbelief as I glance at Holland. “It’s called ‘Viper Rising.’”
“Do you have a work tape?” Raymond asks.
I nod and pull out my phone. I scroll through the recordings and settle on the best one Hannah and I put together from our rehearsals.
“It’s rough. Just a live scratch in my condo.”
Yeah, they’re not listening, so I just push play.
I set the phone on the table, mostly so my shaking hands don’t drop it. I’ve never been so nervous in my life. I don’t remember the song being so long or the recording having so many pitchy notes. I don’t remember my B-string being a little sharp. I definitely didn’t remember the thud of the icemaker dropping its latest creation in the reservoir right after the drop in the bridge.
Just when I think my lungs are about to explode, Holland reaches over and squeezes my knee. I swallow hard to keep the emotion inside and allow my fingers to creep over to brush hers before she pulls away.
As soon as it’s over, I take my phone back and watch as the jury leans into their chairs.
“The first time we heard it, we knew we wanted to support him. It’s amazing, eh?” Holland says, grin bright with expectation. “Luke liked it too.”
Raymond crosses his arm and studies me. “It’s fucking brilliant. You have more like that?”
“A few finished. Several others in the works.”
Holland didn’t know that, and I suppress a smile. Her sister is one kickass songwriter too.
“They as good as this one?”
“I believe they are,” I say.
They exchange a look, and I hold my breath.
“You’ve caused us a lot of headaches the last couple of years,” Pam says, eyes slicing into me.
I let the air out of my lungs and nod. “I’m sorry for that. I had a lot of shit twisted up inside me, but I’m working hard to straighten it out.”
“I’ll vouch for him,” Holland says.
Beacon of Hope Number Two.
“What’s the name of your duo?” Raymond asks.
“My duo?”
“Yeah, you and that girl who’s singing. Her voice is haunting. Recordable for sure. She as much of a hothead as you?”
Holland snorts a laugh. “Hannah? Please. She’s the only one who can control this landmine right here. Probably the reason we’re even having this conversation.”
“Really…” Raymond draws the word out, eyebrows high as his brain works on this puzzle. He checks with his companion and turns back to me. “That true?”
“Pretty much.” I say through a smirk.
They release a slow nod. “So what’s the name of your new group?”
“Uh…” Shit.
“Viper Rising,” Holland cuts in. “Their first track is also the name of the band.”
“Viper Rising,” Pam muses. “Hmm.”
“I like it,” Raymond says. “Pam?”
She nods. “Me too. Let’s get you two in for a conversation and see what you’ve got. Bring your guitars.”
Wait, what? “Sure, sounds great. I can’t play yet, though.” They study my hand, and I swear their disappointment matches my own.
“I’ll play for their audition,” Holland says, and I’m officially out of words.
“Well, okay then. Let’s set something up after the release. For now we’ll work on getting the media situation ironed out.”
“You got it, boss,” I say, and take the hands they offer.
“Good. Thanks for the, uh, meeting then,” Pam says.
“Thank you, ma’am,” I reply. “Looking forward to turning the page.”
“We are too, son,” Raymond says. “What do you say, time for some food? The sweet corn crème brulee at this place is criminal.”
Wow, that does sound amazing.
Also, what the fuck just happened?
∞∞∞
With all the wild events of the day, watching Hannah’s reactions to the recap is my favorite part. I find myself searching for more reasons to make her smile and force those gorgeous eyes to ignite with excitement. When I get to the part about “Viper Rising” she just about collapses on the couch.
“Wait, are you serious? They liked me?”
“They loved you, Han. They want us to go in for an audition and talk details.”
Mouth open, she moves her head in slow arcs. “I don’t… I just…”
“Looks like maybe you have a new career. Hope this doesn’t interfere with your judge-show gig.”
“What? Wes!” This one is a shriek that sends her crashing against my chest. I let out an oomph as she settles against me.
“What do I say? What do I wear? Wait, how are you going to play for an audition?”
I laugh and kiss her hair. “Don’t worry about that stuff. It’s just a formality. They’re already interested. As for playing, that’s the best part.”
“A possible record deal isn’t the best part?”
I shake my head with a grin. “Not for us. Holland is going to play for the audition and the whole band will back us up at the wedding.”
I’m worried for her poor jaw after its violent drop. “No.”
“Yep.”
Blue eyes narrow and cut into me. “No! You’re lying.”
I laugh. “Why would I lie about that?”
She screeches again and suffocates me in another embrace.
“Ahh! I love you!” she sings, then pulls back, expression changing. “I mean… you know what I mean.”
“I hope you mean you love me because I’m pretty sure I love you too.”
Her teeth sink into her lip as tears collect in those bright, wide eyes. I didn’t think it was possible for Hannah to look any more beautiful.
∞∞∞
It’s not until we get to the Mila interview portion of the play-by-play that Hannah returns to Earth. I regret saying anything the second she deflates.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Based on the severe tone, she’s in lawyer-mode. I’m no match for Hannah Drake in lawyer-mode.
“Probably not, but if I’m going to set the record straight, she’s the one I need to convince.”
She must really love me. I can see the retort she’s holding back bashing against her tongue when she straightens on the couch.
I study her face. “Just say it, Han.”
She lets out a long breath and relaxes against me again. “The problem is you’re approaching this interview as if Mila Taylor is a serious journalist. She’s a blogger, Wes. She’s loved for her wit and caustic personality. Honestly, half her fans probably follow her because she’s popular. The truth has nothing to do with the equation.”
She’s right.
“I can still try to change her perspective.”
She nudges closer, and I tighten my arms around her.
“When’s the interview?”