Page 9 of Only for the Moment
“Why isn’t it ready?” Tad asked, one brow angled up. “Normally you’re raring to go as soon as a tour is done. This isn’t like you, and I gotta be honestand say that has us concerned.”
There’s the shark.Lurking in Tad’s gaze, waiting to come out if necessary. But Isaac was the golden goose. “That’s true, I am usually ready. This time I’m not.” He wished there was something more he could give the man, but knowing his psyche was shot to hell, he was having nightmares constantly, and he couldn’t write worth a damn would not reassure anyone. Andhe sure as hell didn’t want anything getting back to his crew, unnerving them.
Susan stepped in. “Tad, I think we should consider the fact that four years of nonstop touring and recording is a long stretch of time. A break would allow for some creative breathing space, a fresh perspective…”
“We don’t want something new,” Tad argued. “We want the Isaac millions of fans know and love.”
“And that’swhat you’ll get.” Susan’s sweet face sharpened, her barracuda rising to the surface. Isaac relaxed into his seat a bit, letting her do her job. “But not if you burn out your number one artist.”
And that was the rock and hard place they were all between.
Tad’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of breathing space are we talking about?”
“I don’t think six months is unreasonable,” Susan told him.
Theedge in the record exec softened the slightest bit. Obviously he’d expected something longer, but whether this was burn out or not—and he wasn’t sure either way—Isaac didn’t want to stay away from music that long. He’d pushed himself just as hard, maybe harder, than the record label ever had.
That was assuming, of course, that the music was still there, somewhere beneath all the chaos in hishead. He just needed to find it again.
Tad was silent for a long moment. “We can wait six months to book studio time. But I want some assurance of what you’re working on. A concept for the next album.”
That he could work with, surely. “When?”
“In two weeks. I’ll be back the weekend of the concert,” he said, jerking his chin toward the empty stage. “I want the concept then.”
And from the lookof him, that was as far as he’d give. A vise tightened around Isaac’s head, promising a helluva headache on its way. “I can do that.”
Tad stood. “Great.” He held his hand out for a firm shake, keeping hold of Isaac’s slightly longer than necessary. “I know you’re not some flaky artist, Isaac. I do. I also know this”—he gestured between them—“is not your MO. When I say I’m worried, that’s nota one-sided deal. We want you happy and creating.”
He didn’t want worry. He was worried enough for all of them, and it didn’t help a damn bit. Nothing had except the little distraction he’d found this morning.
“That’s what we all want, yeah?” he said.
Tad dropped his hand, giving him a nod of agreement. “Good. Don’t let me down.”
Isaac flashed his trademark smile, keeping the edge he feltcarefully concealed. “I make it a point not to.”
“Tad.” Susan gestured the exec toward the aisle. After he passed her, she reached over to give Isaac a hug. “I’ll give you a call later?”
Isaac gave her a squeeze. “Anytime,” he told her. Only as he watched them walk away did the tension in his body ease.
When he looked back toward the stage, it was to find Nick at the side, waiting, watching.Worried, if that nasty frown was any sign. Isaac took a deep, steadying breath and crossed to the duffel he’d dropped near the stage, kneeling to pack it, gripping the handle so hard it hurt as he turned back to his friend and announced that he was ready to leave.
They didn’t say much on the way out of the arena, not till they reached the black Escalade Nick had rented. It was already running,the air conditioner on full blast, cooling the inside. Two members of his security team guarded the vehicle, but it was Nick who handed Isaac’s bag off to one of them, then opened the back door, gesturing Isaac in. Isaac tapped his friend on the belly as he passed, a backhanded thank-you for a common courtesy he didn’t expect but appreciated nonetheless.
Nick sat beside him in the rear seat,the empty middle row giving them some privacy as Nick’s men took the front and they began the drive back to the Sovereign. Isaac didn’t realize he’d reached into his pocket until the rope caressed his hand, and he drew it out, forming the knots almost without conscious thought. The repetition centered him, allowing him to breathe again.
“Everything okay?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Totallie; he and Nick both knew it—and his friend’s snort of amusement proved it. “Stop blowing smoke up my ass. I might believe Susan came all the way out here for an informal powwow, but Dugan? No way. What did they want?”
“They want to know when we’ll start on the next album.”
His pause said Nick knew that wasn’t as simple a question as it sounded. “And?”
“And…he gave me two weeks.”
