Page 51 of Shattered Chords

I waited.

“Look, I don’t want to fucking fight right now,” he muttered.

“Me neither, Frankie-boy.” I drew a deep breath. “I’ve been tossing some ideas around...about the shit with the label. I’m considering being part of the assault team.”

“Don’t do this because Cassy asked you behind my back.”

“Nah.” I lifted my feet and rested them on the table. The chair creaked under me, its legs scrapping the terrace floor. “Over easy, not scrambled. Remember?” Although he couldn’t see me, I tapped my own temple for good measure.

“Hmm.”

“I can do my own critical thinking.”

“I’m listening.”

“I need some more details. But not over the phone.”

“Okay. You want to meet?”

I pondered it. The last time we’d seen each other was at Melrose Cinema when I, desperate to reconcile, skipped out from rehab and crashed Cassy’s premiere. For one night, Frank Wallace and I had set our differences aside and made music. And surprisingly, it felt good. Just being and not trying to rip each other’s throats out.

“Yeah, let’s talk,” I said, crossing and uncrossing my ankles. The table rattled softly from the movements.

“Okay. I’ll make some time. I’ll text you.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Bye, Frankie-boy.”

He hung up.

For a long moment, I stared into the distance, surveying the mountains and the skimpy puffs of clouds above the horizon, and then I dialed Javier’s number.

“So he’s alive,” my manager joked.

“If drugs didn’t kill me, nothing will,” I joked back before steering the conversation toward a serious matter. “You following the news?”

“You mean the lawsuit?” We’d spoken about it once, very briefly.

“Yes.”

“It’s not looking good.”

“Johnny’s on it too. I want you to call my lawyer and see how much greater of a chance we have to get the masters back if I’m included.”

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence, as if Javier was processing what I’d just said. I heard him let out a sigh. “You want to go against KBC, Dante?”

“I’m considering it, but I need to weigh all the pros and cons first.”

“You know you could be in the courts for years.”

“I’m aware.”

“You know the amount they’re suing him for, right?”

Frustration twisted my nerves. Malik had an appointment with his divorce attorney today and we’d skipped the hike in favor of serious adult business, and now I was restless with the extra energy. “What the fuck do you think? I can’t read shit? Call my lawyer. Get me some more info, get me some numbers.”

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