Wicked White
Page 58
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“Jane Ann—”
She holds her hands up. “I know, I know. You don’t care about that, but Ace, let’s be realistic. Fans are going to eat up the whole tortured artist thing, and they’ll be on pins and needles waiting to see what you’re going to do next.”
We walk out onto my back patio. February in California is nothing like Ohio. It’s still warm enough to sit outside and enjoy the weather. The place is just as I left it a few months ago—perfectly landscaped, with tall shrubs providing all the privacy anyone could ever dream of. That’s one plus about living in a gated community: it really cuts down on the random break-ins when you’re not home.
“I want to get to work on the new songs right away. We need to call the band together so we can go over what our new sound will be.”
“I still don’t think changing the direction—”
I hold my hand up. “If I am going to stay in Wicked White, these are my terms, and if you want to stay on board and make money off of me like you’re used to, then you’ll stop fighting me on this.”
“Okay, but the other guys might not like it,” she says. “They signed up to play pop music that has mass appeal. They won’t like doing a one-eighty with the sound and becoming a completely different-sounding band for fear they’ll lose the fans that they’ve already amassed.”
I shrug. “Then let them quit. They all hate me anyhow, so it might be nice to get some new blood in the band.”
She opens her mouth like she’s going to protest but then quickly closes it and nods. “Maybe you’re right on that point. JJ can be a real prick at times. I hate having to deal with him myself. The other two will fall in line I think, once you assert more authority as the leader of the band.”
“That’s going to happen, or I’ll find a new drummer and bassist, only this time I get a say if we replace them.”
“Okay, any other demands?” she asks.
“Only one: I want to pay Willow Acres’s taxes off for Iris. She’s going to lose it soon if they aren’t paid, and I want to do that for her. There are some amazing people who live there, and I don’t want to see them lose their homes.”
She tilts her head. “That brings up another subject: Jeremy Winkler. He’s pressed assault charges, and that’s something we’re going to have to deal with.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. That douche bag is really a fucking thorn in my side. “We’ll deal with it.”
“I could offer to pay him off in order to get—”
“No. I refuse to give that asshole any money. If he sues me and wins—”
“Then that could be a lot more money in the long run. Let me have our attorneys settle with him out of court. It’ll be a lot less messy and we’ll have the matter over with a lot sooner.” When I hesitate, Jane Ann adds, “Be smart about this, Ace. I know you want this all behind you, and paying him off is the best way to do that. Once we get through this, you can refocus on your career—your music—and figure out where your relationship stands with Iris Easton. Aren’t those the most important things right now?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately. “Iris and my music are the only things that matter to me.”
“Then let me help you by doing this. I’ll get the taxes paid off to help Iris, and then I’ll figure out how much it’ll take to get rid of Jeremy. It’s the best way. Trust me.”
I turn to her and take in Jane Ann’s heart-shaped face, hoping that she really does have my best interests at heart as I agree to what she’s saying. “Okay. If you and the attorneys think that’s best, then okay. I need time to refocus on my music and find my soul again. It’s going to take me some time to come up with new material for the next record. Will you call the band and set up a time we can all meet? I want to rip off that Band-Aid and get pissing them off over with.”
“Yes. I’ll make that happen right away.” Jane Ann nods, pulling out her phone. “Let me know if you need anything else. I need you focused. Those new songs won’t write themselves.”
A calm comes over me, and for once I finally feel like I’m taking control of my career and my voice is being heard.
IRIS
The bustling sound of New York City out the window of my shoe-box apartment is a far cry from the quiet surroundings of my childhood home. It was hard leaving Willow Acres, but knowing that Adele and Birdie are running things in my absence helps me rest easier at night. Birdie has decided to hold off on moving here with me for now because she loves her night shift job at Angel’s, and she knows I’m depending on her to help Adele with the trailer park. I trust both of them implicitly. They’re my family—blood or not—and they’re all I’ve got.
When I went to Tanner’s office three days before my scheduled flight back to the city to tell him that I wouldn’t be able to come up with the money for the taxes, I was shocked to find they had already been paid. I didn’t figure Ace would still do that for me, considering I hadn’t heard from him for at least three weeks at that point.
I went on national television, practically begging him to come back, or at the very least call me, but I never heard a peep from him. I find myself not only hurt by the fact that he didn’t even make an attempt to contact me, but pissed. It makes me wonder if the romantic nice guy who made me lots of poetic promises was full of nothing but shit. I think after pouring my heart out in front of millions of people, I at least deserve a phone call, even if it is just to tell me things are over and to move on with my life.
She holds her hands up. “I know, I know. You don’t care about that, but Ace, let’s be realistic. Fans are going to eat up the whole tortured artist thing, and they’ll be on pins and needles waiting to see what you’re going to do next.”
We walk out onto my back patio. February in California is nothing like Ohio. It’s still warm enough to sit outside and enjoy the weather. The place is just as I left it a few months ago—perfectly landscaped, with tall shrubs providing all the privacy anyone could ever dream of. That’s one plus about living in a gated community: it really cuts down on the random break-ins when you’re not home.
“I want to get to work on the new songs right away. We need to call the band together so we can go over what our new sound will be.”
“I still don’t think changing the direction—”
I hold my hand up. “If I am going to stay in Wicked White, these are my terms, and if you want to stay on board and make money off of me like you’re used to, then you’ll stop fighting me on this.”
“Okay, but the other guys might not like it,” she says. “They signed up to play pop music that has mass appeal. They won’t like doing a one-eighty with the sound and becoming a completely different-sounding band for fear they’ll lose the fans that they’ve already amassed.”
I shrug. “Then let them quit. They all hate me anyhow, so it might be nice to get some new blood in the band.”
She opens her mouth like she’s going to protest but then quickly closes it and nods. “Maybe you’re right on that point. JJ can be a real prick at times. I hate having to deal with him myself. The other two will fall in line I think, once you assert more authority as the leader of the band.”
“That’s going to happen, or I’ll find a new drummer and bassist, only this time I get a say if we replace them.”
“Okay, any other demands?” she asks.
“Only one: I want to pay Willow Acres’s taxes off for Iris. She’s going to lose it soon if they aren’t paid, and I want to do that for her. There are some amazing people who live there, and I don’t want to see them lose their homes.”
She tilts her head. “That brings up another subject: Jeremy Winkler. He’s pressed assault charges, and that’s something we’re going to have to deal with.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. That douche bag is really a fucking thorn in my side. “We’ll deal with it.”
“I could offer to pay him off in order to get—”
“No. I refuse to give that asshole any money. If he sues me and wins—”
“Then that could be a lot more money in the long run. Let me have our attorneys settle with him out of court. It’ll be a lot less messy and we’ll have the matter over with a lot sooner.” When I hesitate, Jane Ann adds, “Be smart about this, Ace. I know you want this all behind you, and paying him off is the best way to do that. Once we get through this, you can refocus on your career—your music—and figure out where your relationship stands with Iris Easton. Aren’t those the most important things right now?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately. “Iris and my music are the only things that matter to me.”
“Then let me help you by doing this. I’ll get the taxes paid off to help Iris, and then I’ll figure out how much it’ll take to get rid of Jeremy. It’s the best way. Trust me.”
I turn to her and take in Jane Ann’s heart-shaped face, hoping that she really does have my best interests at heart as I agree to what she’s saying. “Okay. If you and the attorneys think that’s best, then okay. I need time to refocus on my music and find my soul again. It’s going to take me some time to come up with new material for the next record. Will you call the band and set up a time we can all meet? I want to rip off that Band-Aid and get pissing them off over with.”
“Yes. I’ll make that happen right away.” Jane Ann nods, pulling out her phone. “Let me know if you need anything else. I need you focused. Those new songs won’t write themselves.”
A calm comes over me, and for once I finally feel like I’m taking control of my career and my voice is being heard.
IRIS
The bustling sound of New York City out the window of my shoe-box apartment is a far cry from the quiet surroundings of my childhood home. It was hard leaving Willow Acres, but knowing that Adele and Birdie are running things in my absence helps me rest easier at night. Birdie has decided to hold off on moving here with me for now because she loves her night shift job at Angel’s, and she knows I’m depending on her to help Adele with the trailer park. I trust both of them implicitly. They’re my family—blood or not—and they’re all I’ve got.
When I went to Tanner’s office three days before my scheduled flight back to the city to tell him that I wouldn’t be able to come up with the money for the taxes, I was shocked to find they had already been paid. I didn’t figure Ace would still do that for me, considering I hadn’t heard from him for at least three weeks at that point.
I went on national television, practically begging him to come back, or at the very least call me, but I never heard a peep from him. I find myself not only hurt by the fact that he didn’t even make an attempt to contact me, but pissed. It makes me wonder if the romantic nice guy who made me lots of poetic promises was full of nothing but shit. I think after pouring my heart out in front of millions of people, I at least deserve a phone call, even if it is just to tell me things are over and to move on with my life.
