Page 76 of Final Serenade

“Hannah is a little…uh”—he paused to look for the correct word—“eccentric.”

“Are you hiding me from her or vice versa?”

“I’m not hiding you, doll. She just prefers to stay out of the way whenever she can. She knows you’re spending time here.”

“Levi and I have a couple of meetings today and an event this evening. I probably won’t be back until late.”

“Okay.” He slid across the pillow until our faces were on the same level. His fingers kept on playing with my hair.

This, us being together in his house, me telling him about my day and what time he should expect me back, was weird. I’d packed a small bag with five pairs of underwear and three pairs of jeans and come for a sleepover on Monday night and hadn’t gone home since. Except for one time to grab a change of clothes and check on Ashton.

I didn’t understand the nature of our relationship anymore. When we were alone together, we were everything. But out in public, we were nothing. Wecouldn’tbe more than nothing.Or could we?

I bit my lip and stared at him for a while, studying the fine lines in his face, the morning stubble shadowing his jaw, the tiny flecks of gray in the pools of blue in his eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded.

“Are you aware of your secret relationship with Taylor Rhinehart?”

“Ahh.” He laughed softly. “I heard about that. The press loves a good secret relationship story.”

My throat tightened. I didn't know why. My mind blanked and scrambled for the right line, but it didn’t come.

“Are you jealous?” Frank probed, sensing my confusion.

I braved a smile. “No. She’s a decoy.” But I didn’t feel so sure anymore. The headline bothered me. We sort of fell into this, but he still had a public image to maintain. I had no clue what he was doing when I wasn’t around. Or what kind of meetings he had. The idea that he was riding his bike alone gave me chills. He only told me what he wanted me to know, and while it was a lot, it still wasn’t all.It wasn’t enough.

Being with Frank had started to feel complicated. Because I no longer wanted to see headlines with his name next to the names of other women. Even if they were strategically planned diversions to ensure no one was looking at me.

“What’s on your mind, Cassy?” Frank’s whisper skated across my cheeks.

“I just have a lot of stuff to do,” I lied. “I need to go through several hours of video today.”

“The documentary you’re working on?”

I nodded. “Yes. Levi wants to submit the final cut to a couple of festivals. We might try to arrange a screening. It’s all still up in the air. We haven’t shot enough material yet to see what direction we want to take, but I think this can be more than simply the story of an artist trying to make it. This can be a reflection of what it’s like to be in the music business today. The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

Frank’s gaze held mine as I spoke. He was listening carefully. I hadn’t revealed any details to him except for the general ideas, because my rule of thumb was not to discuss things I worked on with people who weren’t directly involved with the project. Besides, I couldn’t mix work and my personal life. That’s what I was doing with Frank. And look where it’d gotten me. Hiding out like a dirty little secret.

“The ultimate goal is to bring awareness to what’s going on in the industry at the moment, specifically what exactly labels are looking for and why so much real talent gets overlooked.”

“And what are the labels looking for?”

“Pretty things, Frank.” My tone was firm. I paused to give him a chance to react, but he kept on listening. “The labels aren’t looking for voices. They’re looking for girls who can rock lingerie on stage and guys who can guarantee a crowd of girls with money to spend. They’re looking for nice packages to sell, for something they can brand, for something that has sex appeal. Something outrageous. Talent has become secondary. People with money don’t care about it. They care about turning money into more money.”

“Hasn’t it always been like that?”

“Yes, but at some point, talent began to matter and people with money had the power to bring the talent to the masses. Today, our live music venues get sold and demolished to make way for more hotels and casinos.”

“That’s a pretty hypocritical statement for a woman who’s been fucking a manPeople Magazineonce called the sexiest man alive.”

Our gazes burned a wild, like a scorching fire. He was challenging me and he was right. I was a hypocrite, but I also wasn’t going to back down.

“You come from the pre-streaming, pre-Instagram, pre-cell phone era, Frank.” Heated up by the debate, I rose up on the bed. My eyes never left his. “You caught the last wave of the final decade of true live music. Your fans want to hear what new Hall Affinity songs sound like as much as they want to experience nostalgia that old songs promise when you play them live. They’re memories people will be reliving during your shows. For some, it will be their first kiss, for others it will be their first concert…or their best. Today’s artists don’t have any of that. They have Instagram, Facebook, Spotify, and a dozen of other platforms to break through with, and unless they can somehow shock the crowd with something no one has ever done, they’re doomed to play gigs in local bars. It’s the sad truth. It’s the reality of today’s world. That’s why we have fourteen-year-old girls rapping about weed while their parents collect the royalty money and spend it on shit they don’t need.”

My heart was pounding by the end of my speech. I didn’t notice the pitch in my voice and my hands flying all over until I stopped speaking.

I waited, my breath heavy. I waited for Frank to say something smart, something hurtful even. He was on the opposite side of this barricade. He was the one who’d made it.

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