Page 68 of One Last Verse

“Hopefully.” I despised myself for this farce. Frank wasn’t ill. He was a coward. “I do think we should finish the single.” I turned to look at Gary, unsure if he was up for it.

The man gave me a one-shoulder shrug. “I’m good until midnight.”

Isabella was silent a long moment. Her eyes hardened. It made no difference whether she was going to record “Afterburn” right now or later. If she chose to finish tracking today, it’d be the only song on the album produced by Gary Torino.

“The studio is paid for,” I explained. “It’s your song. Your call. Whatever you decide.”

“Sure.” She nodded. “Let’s get this baby done since we’re all here.” Her smile was like a knife to my chest, a painful twist. I could tell she felt cheated, and sadly, there wasn't a single thing I could do to make it better.

Only Frank had that power.

Isabella returned to the booth for another take. Too wired to watch, I stepped outside to get fresh air and clear my head. The distant hum of Ventura Boulevard replaced the blasts of music. Clouds hung low above the Valley. Shy spurs of first fog licked the hillside. The evening was perfect. Dark, crisp, and full of dreams. Just not mine.

Levi found me a few minutes later. “What's going on, Cass?” Hands in his pockets, he strolled up.

I glanced at my phone, hoping to see a missed call or a message from Frank. “Don't know.”

“He’s not really sick, is he? He changed his mind. Am I right?”

I disregarded his question because I didn’t have an answer. “Let's get whatever we can for now.” A shuddered breath left my lungs.

“I guess the interview is out too?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Levi didn't press for more.

The light rattle of Isabella's wheelchair cut our conversation short.

“My eyes can’t take this cockfest anymore.” She steered over to us.

I laughed softly, wondering yet again where this girl found the energy to joke while everything we’d been working toward was falling apart.

Levi rolled his eyes.

“What?” I slapped his chest with the back of my hand. “It’s like eight against three in there right now.”

“Sure.” He snickered and glanced at his phone. “I’m going to check my time-lapse. And you two”—his index finger bounced between Isabella and me—“behave. Don’t break any hearts while left unsupervised.”

“Can’t make any promises!” Isabella hollered. “It’s not every day you meet a girl with a bondage-ready chair.”

Laughing, I watched Levi disappear inside.

“He seems very tense.” She shared her thoughts on my partner.

“It’s all the Red Bull he drinks.”

“That explains it.”

I wasn’t sure what else to say or where to even start. I had too many things on my mind right now. But I felt that I was more responsible than anyone for Frank’s behavior. Had I tried hard enough with him? Had I done everything I could?

“I’m sorry about today, Isabella.”

She gazed up at me with her big, stormy eyes, which were full of defeat. “Why? It’s not your fault.”

“It is. I told you I’d make this happen for you.”

“It’s not the end of the world that a two-time Grammy winner doesn’t want to collaborate with some chick from the San Jose ghetto. I’ve been lowballed all my life, so I’ll get over it.”

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