Page 58 of One Last Verse

“Please reconsider the lawsuit?” I asked, my pulse a wild drum in my ears as I rested my hand on his chest. “For me, please.”

Frank was silent for a second. “I’ll think about it,” he finally said.

The following day Brooklyn received an email from Gary Torino. He was thrilled about “Afterburn” and could spare two full days at the end of the month. So as soon as the dates were locked in and all the arrangements were made, Jay Brodie PR got to work. The first press release went out on Monday, and Isabella’s official Facebook page raked up over forty thousand likes in less than twenty-four hours. Her social media platforms exploded. Literally overnight.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I looked at the stats. Levi was on cloud nine.

Frank spent the remainder of the week in his studio creating a scratch track for “Afterburn.” Some of the equipment he’d destroyed was replaced fairly quickly, enough for him to get started. We hardly discussed the lawsuit again. He was so wrapped up in the song that I feared I’d kill his music mojo. Instead, I tried my best to keep him away from social media, TV, and the internet in general. Hall Affinity teased to unveil the name of the new singer’s name in the upcoming weeks and since the announcement seemed to coincide with the “Afterburn” campaign, it was imperative Frank stayed focused.

Dante publicly wished his former bandmate good luck with his new endeavors. The press release with his official statement hit my inbox six hours after Jay Brodie PR sent out the first “Afterburn” email blast, and I laughed at Dante’s speech for a good minute. No matter how the man tried to spin it, he was still a backstabbing jerk.

When Levi finally sent me theDreamcatchersrough cut, Frank was caught up in the voodoo of music and refused to leave the studio. We watched the film on my laptop, surrounded by the monitors and panels of output gear.

Leaned back in his chair and clutching its left arm, Frank was silent while the cut rolled. His expression grew hard each time he saw images of himself. Per Brooklyn’s instructions, Levi used only minimal footage of Frank from the rehearsals.

Too nervous to sit down, I stood behind his chair and observed his reactions. We’d spoken about an interview only once after his last meltdown and he’d been thinking about it ever since, but I hoped that seeing the cut would help him decide faster, because we could no longer postpone setting the screening date.

“What do you think?” I asked after we finished watching.

Frank spun in his chair to face me, his features twisted in concentration. “It’s very compelling, doll. I love how it’s turning out.”

The edge in his voice indicated there was more, but he kept it to himself. At least for now.

“Are you still not sure about my offer?” I probed.

He stared at me candidly. His penetrating gaze reached deep into my soul and every fiber in me felt his hesitation. “I don’t want to steal Isabella’s screen time.”

My tongue was tight and heavy inside my mouth. “Trust me, you won’t, but if you want my honest opinion, I think that in light of everything that’s happened in the last couple of months, this is a way for you to really be heard…” I stammered and blushed like a teenager because it seemed wrong to give him my sales pitch, but he reminded me of a newborn baby that had just come into this world, screaming, kicking, and uncertain of what to do. Uncertain of whether the universe accepted him for what he was without his band and everything he’d accomplished with those three people who didn’t care to fight for him.

He just needed a push.

I matched his stare. “Your insight can draw a lot of attention to all the wrongs that are plaguing the industry. Can’t you see why I don’t want you to move forward with the lawsuit? It’ll make you look greedy. Sharing your true experiences will make you look human. People are drawn to vulnerability.”

“You know better than anyone that lawsuits in my line of business aren’t always about money.” His voice was like an acidic peel.

“I know, but people don’t see it that way unless you’re fighting a collective fight. And that’s not the case here. For the label, you’re just a disgruntled former employee. For the fans, you’re just another money-hungry celebrity to yap about on the forums. This is the way your fans—including myself—will see you if you try to sue a corporation for millions of dollars when you already have enough to feed a country in Central America.”

The tension brewing between us reached its peak. Frank’s steely glare was like a torch to my face.

“Well”—he tilted his head—“at least you’re honest.” The grind of his jaw told me I’d hit a sore spot.

“I’ll always be honest with you. It’s called a relationship.”

Frank’s expression softened. “You’re right, doll. I have more than I need. The difference between me and people born into wealth is that I earned it with my blood, sweat, and broken bones.” He dropped his gaze to his arm resting in the sling.

“I’m not insinuating anything, Frank. I’m simply giving you facts. This is how people will perceive you and your actions if you sue KBC. I’m not going to sugarcoat the situation merely because I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Otherwise, what’s the point of doing all this?” I motioned at my laptop. “If you really want to fight the good fight, I’ve got one going on. Join me.”

Eyes narrowed, he evaluated my words.

“And just so you know, being objective is very difficult for me when it comes to this project. I have to be absolutely transparent with you and with our viewership.”

A hint of a smile passed his lips. “No woman ever told me I had too much money.”

“I don’t care about other women. When will you stop comparing me to everyone else?”

“I’m not comparing. I’m admiring.”

Blush crept up my cheeks.

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