Linda came to the rescue. “When are you looking to record the single?” she questioned Frank, making more notes. Her fingers tippy-tapped against the keyboard of her Mac. Dressed in a suit and with her hair styled to perfection, she was the definition of impeccable. Sometimes I wondered if the woman slept at all. Sometimes I wondered if she was even human. With a mile-long roster of celebrity clients she handled publicity for, Frank was probably the nicest. Despite all the luxury he enjoyed surrounding himself with, he was a simple man. Roman and Hannah loved him. I saw it in the way they spoke about him when he wasn’t near. Even slimy douche Corey adored Frank.
And I adored being his girlfriend. He was like sunshine, even in his darkest moments, and everyone clung to him, hoping to get a bit of his warmth.
“In the next month or two,” he said. I heard a lick of excitement in Frank’s voice. For the first time since the accident, he sounded like himself. “We’re trying to get Gary Torino on board.”
“Really?” Linda gazed at me, looking for confirmation.
I nodded.
Gary Torino was best of the best, an industry veteran who’d produced over two hundred albums. Three quarters were platinum. Half of them sat at the very top of the Billboard chart.
Frank wanted to go all out with “Afterburn.”
“I haven’t heard it yet, and I’m already impressed.” Linda typed up some more notes.
“It’s still pretty rough,” Frank explained. He’d only attended one rehearsal, but now that he was finally on the way to recovery, three more sessions were lined up for the next couple of weeks.
“Can you guarantee Billboard?” Brooklyn barked from her spot.
I could almost taste her annoyance. It plagued the air like the smell of rotting leftovers.
Linda flashed a cunning smile and the spark in her eyes told me she was going to make it happen. Despite the fact that there were no guarantees in this business. Never. “We can probably try for a Grammy nomination as well.”
“I like that!” Frank beamed. It was a magazine cover-worthy grin. I hadn’t seen him this fired up in weeks. He was riding the high of anticipation, and I was hoping it would make him change his mind and give up the idea of the lawsuit.
“Do you have any questions, Frank?” Linda asked.
“I think you answered them all.” When he stood, she did too, and they shook hands.
“I’ll have my girls start on the proposal today, and we’ll send it over to Brooklyn as soon as it’s ready.” Linda slammed her MacBook shut and slipped it into her bag. “As always, it’s a pleasure, Frank.”
“Pleasure is mine.” He grinned.
“I’ll walk you out,” I offered and rose from my chair. Brooklyn’s unhappy growl behind my back was the last thing I heard as I left the den.
“He looks good,” Linda noted as we made our way over to her SUV parked in the driveway. She pulled the door open and tossed her bag on the passenger seat. “How’s his shoulder?”
“Better. He’s seeing a doctor in a couple of days. So we’ll know more then.”
The January sun was perched high in the sky, its rays glittering in the generous falls of the fountain water. The light breeze that danced across my cheeks was soft and cool, typical for a Southern California winter.
“Any news on the replacement singer?” I asked carefully, my voice almost a whisper. Not that anyone could hear us. Frank’s yard was the size of my entire apartment complex. “Off the record, of course.”
“Management is in talks with a few candidates right now. I’m sure you understand these are some big shoes to fill.” Linda narrowed her eyes and inched closer. “Looks like it’s going to be either Marshall Burns or Joel Frederick.”
“Really? Frederick?” I tried to hold the sudden rush of anxiety at bay. “He can’t hold a note long enough for the crowd to hear it.” But he’s a great showman.
“He had vocal cord surgery last summer.”
“He did?”
“His team just wanted to keep it under wraps while he was in recovery. I heard he nailed all the Hollow Heart Dream songs during his audition.”
“Shit.”
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone. Not even Frank.”
“Of course. You have my word.”
“It’s up to Dante to choose who he wants to play with anyway, and my gut tells me he’ll go with Marshall. He’s a bit more down to earth and easier to work with.”
“Is it bad I want this tour to flop?”
“It’s very difficult to stay impartial in your position. I’d probably feel the same way if I were dating Frankie Blade.” Linda laughed softly. “You made a smart move by distancing yourself from the magazine. You don’t want Levi and the rest of the team to be caught in the crossfire when the press finds out you’re dating Frank. Have you reached out to the social media agency I recommended?”
“Not yet.”
“You should do it before TMZ takes notice. I would also suggest talking to your mother and brother.”
A shiver ran down my spine. The idea of going public was like a flu virus, incubating, waiting to hit me and my family. “I’m scared,” I confessed.
“Which is normal,” Linda explained. “But as long as you prepare yourself for what’s coming and stay away from social media when it hits the tabloids, you’ll be fine.”
I allowed her words to settle. My job was stressful enough to have taught me how not to let things get to me, and while I liked to think of myself as a thick-skinned gal, with Frank, everything felt different. It was as if he possessed all parts of me—my body, my mind, my heart. He was embedded into my thoughts every second of every day, and it was the most terrifying feeling ever.
“Don’t you dare tell him or anyone else about Joel and Marshall,” Linda warned me as she got into her SUV. “Not even your imaginary pet.”
“My lips are sealed.” I ran my fingers along my mouth and turned an invisible key to let her know I’d keep quiet forever.
After our goodbyes were said, I went back inside. The thunder of Brooklyn’s voice raged in the den.
“You shouldn’t have kept her,” she fumed, pacing around.
Frank stood near the window and stared at the ocean, his faced withdrawn.
“Your name will be in circulation with their Hall Affinity press releases. Do you really think it’s a good idea to share a publicist with your former bandmates?” Brooklyn continued, ignoring my presence.
“First, I like her and I trust her instincts,” Frank responded in a flat tone. “Second, I want my name to be shoved into every inbox that gets Hall Affinity news. It’s still my fucking band. I made them. The world should remember that when they hear someone else singing my songs.”
I recognized the struggle in his breath, loud and heavy puffs against the muffled rumble of the ocean. He’d seemed fine just a few minutes ago, which made me wonder if Brooklyn had said something to him while I was gone or if he’d led me to believe he was getting better when he wasn’t.
“It’s not like Linda Schwab is the only good publicist in town,” she retorted.
“I’m keeping her. End of story,” Frank said and walked out of the den.