More Than Anything (26 page)

I adjust my hated collar. “No backing out.”

“Yeah, baby. You go. I want pictures.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on. Sell it to one of those porn sites. You should be worth at least a few million.”

“That’s a nice thought. I’ll keep it in mind if I ever need help making ends meet.”

“If somebody would pay to see my end meet Derek, I’d be all over that. Even if they didn’t pay, come to think of it.”

“I thought we had a no-Melody-on-Derek agreement.”

“Right. I know. I was just F-ing with you. But we’ve got no bans on Sebastian. He’s open season. I’m already planning my trip in two weeks. I sent you the details.”

“I thought you were joking.”

“About meeting my future ex? That’s no joking matter.”

If she could harness that single-mindedness and focus it on something besides guys, she could run the world.

Emperor Melody.

As she turns off the light, I smile, thinking about Derek, always Derek, and counting the seconds till we’re together at last.

Returning to the studio is a trip after being gone for so long. John and the other engineers are super nice, and even Sebastian seems to be going out of his way to be reasonable – which feels a little odd after weeks of him being such a perfectionist. The background vocals are done, and we’re down to the finish line – a few vocal fixes on the lead, some instrumental flourishes, but no major surgery. Even the nightly rough mixes of whatever we worked on sound incredible, and I can’t wait to hear the finished product.

Two weeks go by in a blur, with several appearances coordinated by Sabrina to publicize the show, so I have some walking-around money in my pocket. When I get the chance, I go to visit June at her condo. She’s recovering, but it’s going to be slow. Her face is fine, but she seems a little slow – probably from the painkillers. Unlike me, she needs them for a lot longer, and I remember how out of it I felt after taking them.

“How’s the music biz treating you?” she asks, her voice dreamy and relaxed.

“Great. Your brother’s a magician. It sounds really good.”

“Shouldn’t be too much longer now, huh? Then it’ll be the Year of Sage. Promise you’ll still talk to me when you’re on top.”

“Of course. You’re one of my bestest bestest.”

“I’d probably be your absolutely bestest if I drove a little better, huh?” she asks with a wry smile.

“When are you getting another car?”

“I won’t be driving for a few more months, looks like, so no hurry. Apparently they make new ones every day.”

“Who knew?”

“What about you? Are you going to get one?”

I haven’t really thought about it much. That seems like the kind of thing other people do, like buying a house or having a career.

“Nah. Nobody drives in New York.”

“That’s right. Back to the Big Apple. When do you leave?”

“As soon as possible. Once the record’s mixed.”

“You really miss it, huh?”

I blush at the thought of Derek. “It’s a pretty cool town.”

I stay for another half hour, but she’s only partially there, drifting in and out of the conversation. I feel so sorry for her, and if I prayed, she’d be at the top of my list. She’s done nothing to deserve this.

Maybe that’s just how things work. I like to believe that everything happens for a reason, but there’s a big part of me that doesn’t buy it. There’s no reason I can see for a drunk to almost kill June and me. It would be nice if I could only think about the good that’s happened, but that’s not how my mind works.

I walk home, and as I round the corner to my building, my cell rings. Jeremy’s voice is bigger than life, even over the phone.

“Hey, doll. You near a computer?”

“No, but I will be in a few. What’s up?”

“We opened the show last night. It was wunderbar. The mayor’s naming a street after me, and it’s going to be Jeremy Day next Friday.”

Crap! I totally spaced on his show premiere. “That’s awesome! I can’t wait for Jeremy Day!”

“Dahling, that makes two of us. I sent you some of the reviews. Call me back when you read them.”

“That’s so cool. Of course I will. Give me a minute to get to my building and check the web.”

“I’ve got nothing but time.”

I hang up, happy and excited for Jeremy. I know how much this means to him – he’s made the cut from wannabe to sensation. I never doubted he’d do it, but it’s one thing to believe, another to see it happen.

When I get upstairs, I immediately retrieve my tablet and check my email. There are four attachments. The first is from the biggest paper in New York, and I can understand why Jeremy’s walking on air.

Having seen many productions of
Phantom of the Opera
come and go over the years, with leads that have ranged from virtuoso to workmanlike, it was with considerable pleasure that this reviewer was surprised by Jeremy Sellers, who not only carried the new production that opened at the Pantheon last night with his incredible tenor and vibrant energy, but by his reinterpretation of the Phantom role that made it feel like I was seeing it for the first time.

Sellers is no stranger to the limelight, having come close to winning this season’s
America’s Top Talent
, but there’s a huge difference between singing for three minutes and dominating a production for two hours. I was frankly skeptical of the choice of Sellers, whose wild hair color changes were his claim to fame on the program, but after seeing him in action – as the Monkees said, I’m a believer.

The review goes on for another three paragraphs about the female lead, the production values, and the rest of the cast, all of it glowing.

I open the next one as I redial Jeremy’s number. When he answers, I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Move over, Liza!” I say, and he laughs.

“Well, maybe not, but it’s an auspicious start.”

“Start! For crying out loud, the biggest papers in the city are saying you’re all that.”

“They were rather complimentary, weren’t they?”

“Are you shitting me?”

“Did you see the one from the
Journal
?”

“I’m reading it now. Seems like the reviewer had to dig into the dictionary for some more words for awesome.”

“I’m humbled.”

“Oh, stop. You knew you were going to rock it.”

“Well, I did think that rehearsals sounded pretty good.”

“What’s with you? This is your dream come true, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is. But now I’m wondering when it crashes in on me. Because it always does. Nothing lasts forever.”

“Jeremy,” I say. “Liza. Think about Liza. She went forever.”

“Mmm, well, not exactly.”

“Dude, this is your year. You knocked it out of the park. The critics are saying you’re amazeballs. Enjoy it already.”

“I am, Sage. I don’t know why I’m sort of blue.”

“Because you don’t know how to be happy?”

“I don’t think that’s it.”

“Because you wish I was there to celebrate with you?”

“Trust me, girlfriend. There’s going to be some serious celebrating after tonight’s show.”

“Then what is it?”

“I honestly don’t know. I should be ecstatic, and I’m excited, but I’m not
excited
excited, you know? Maybe I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I don’t know.”

“Jeremy, what would you tell me if I was moping about getting rave reviews for my record?”

“I’d ask you who pissed in your Wheaties and slap you silly.”

“Exactly. And if I was there, that’s what I’d do. But I’m not, so you need to do it for yourself.”

“I know. I’m just being all menopausal.”

I hesitate. “Did something happen you’re not telling me about?”

His tone changes. “Whatever are you asking?”

Bingo.

“Did you meet someone? Or did you break up with somebody?”

“How did you know?”

“Which is it?”

“I met someone. But he’s taken. Why is it the good ones always are?”

“You’re going to let that ruin your best day ever?”

“Of course not. I’m just being overly dramatic. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Maybe not as gorgeous as this one, but still.”

“You told me that New York is the world capital of hot guys.”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? What more do you need to know?”

“That’s more like it. You’re a total catch, and just because one you think’s hot is taken doesn’t mean they all are.”

“Right, but remember how you felt about Derek?”

I should have known he’d bring that up. “I didn’t feel that way immediately. Not even after a week. It took a while.”

“I work faster.”

“Well, slow down. This is your moment. Enjoy it.”

He sighs. “You’re right. I know. I’m just feeling sorry for myself. Poor me. Wahh.”

“Right, poor you, the newest star on Broadway, and probably the youngest. Certainly the prettiest.”

“Now we’re talking.”

We continue with the congratulatory banter for several more minutes, and by the time I get off the phone, Jeremy’s back to normal. But the discussion has me missing Derek in a big way, so I call him. He doesn’t pick up. Probably tracking.

My phone vibrates, and I see I got a message. Melody. Crap. I forgot. She’s coming to town tomorrow!

Melody:
Hey. After seeing how your last trip to pick someone up went, I’ll cab it to your place. B in at 4. U b around?

Me:
Might be at the studio. I’ll give u the address.

Melody:
Call me if u r.

Me:
Ok.

I’m looking forward to a long weekend with Melody. I’m better by the day, and the doctor said one more week and I’ll be out of the collar. I’m hoping we can go see all the sights I’ve missed after living here for six weeks, which are most of them.

My only concern is that Sebastian is going to hate her, or feel like he’s being set up, ganged up on. I mean, I can only guess that he might not like almost-eighteen bombshells. I personally think Melody’s out of her league, but you never know – stranger things have happened. I remember Derek telling me about Elvis hooking up with Priscilla when she was fourteen, so maybe I’m overthinking it.

It’s not like Melody’s a shrinking violet. I almost feel sorry for Sebastian if he decides to go for it. She’s got youthful energy on her side and seems much older than seventeen, so you never know.

I haven’t told Sebastian anything, just that I might have a friend in town for a few days and I’d like to have her hang out with me at the studio for a bit. We’re done tracking, and my contribution is mostly listening to mixes and commenting on them once they’re done. To his credit, Sebastian is listening to everything I say, and I really feel like the record’s a true collaboration.

The following day, I sneak my phone into the studio and send Melody a text message that she should come there. I turn it off and slip it into my back pocket, and an hour later she arrives in a cloud of perfume, her jeans painted on, her assets more than adequately showcased by a purple tank top.

“Hey, Melody,” I say, watching John’s mouth hang open – what I refer to as the Melody Effect.

“Hey, Sage,” she says and sets her carry-on next to the couch and hugs me.

“Very subtle, Melody,” I whisper in her ear, and she giggles.

“Subtle doesn’t win any races,” she murmurs and then sits down next to me. “So this is where you’ve been spending all your time? It’s so dark. No wonder you look like some kind of cave creature even though you’re in L.A. Girl, we need to get you to the beach and get the tanning going on.”

“I mostly turn red.”

“Pink. And it’s some guys’ favorite color.”

I blush, as if to accentuate her point. I forgot how raunchy she can be. I hope nobody’s listening.

John goes back into the control room as we chat about her trip, and a few minutes later Sebastian comes out, a neutral expression on his face. Obviously John’s told him about my guest. His eyes meet Melody’s, and he steps forward with a small smile.

“So this is your friend?” he asks me.

“Yeah. This is Melody. Melody, Sebastian Stalt. The best producer in the world.”

She bats her eyes and holds out her hand.

“That’s quite a claim,” she says, and I don’t recognize her voice. I feel like asking what the alien inhabiting Melody’s body did with her, but I bite my tongue.

“Sage exaggerates sometimes,” Sebastian says and shakes her hand. Melody gives him her pile-driver smile, the one that knocks opponents to the mat before they know what’s hit them, and I can’t watch anymore. I’m afraid I’ll bust out laughing and ruin everything, so I excuse myself and go to the bathroom.