Page 31 of Wild Idol
“That’s too bad. We’re such big fans. We just talked to Sable. I guess we’re going to have to take her side of the story as fact.”
I said it to get under her skin. I figured she was listening to the interaction.
Her voice crackled into the speaker a moment later. “What did that bitch say?”
I tried not to smile. “We can talk about it if you’ll open the door.”
The line disconnected.
JD and I exchanged another optimistic glance.
Some guy answered the door a moment later. I figured he was the sound engineer. It was the same guy we had talked to on the speakerphone. “Come in.”
He stepped aside and held the door for us.
We walked into the foyer.
The home was light and airy, with plenty of soft natural light flooding in through large windows. He led us throughthe foyer, into the living room, and down the hall to the control room. A giant SSL mixing board with knobs and faders was the focal point. A large glass window offered a view of the studio room where the magic happened.
The control room was full of gadgets and equipment—compressors, equalizers, FX, you name it. All expensive vintage analog gear. Of course everything was getting recorded digitally on the computer. There was a large widescreen monitor atop a desk.
The control room was quiet and cozy.
Brianna sat on a leather couch against the far wall behind the mixing console, next to her producer. She was a fierce redhead with emerald eyes and a tight figure with all the right curves.
Two big guys hung out in the control room, along with the sound engineer. I figured they were her security staff.
“Let’s hear the shit she’s talking,” Brianna snapped as we entered.
“If I’m not mistaken, you’ve been charged with arson and are awaiting trial,” I said.
“So? What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”
I shrugged casually. “It seems like you’re treading on thin ice. You need to be careful. One screw up and your bail could get revoked.”
“I need to not talk to fucking cops.”
“No. You need to convince me that you didn’t have anything to do with the recent attack that turned Sable’s car into scrap metal and killed a woman.”
“I didn’t have nothing to do with that.”
“There’s a lyric in your recent hit that saysI kill all my rivals. Burn them up. I’m fighting for survival.”
She gave me a flat look. “It’s a lyric in a song. It ain’t real life.”
“Sure seems inspired by real life.”
“I draw from everything I experience.”
“Did you experience shooting a woman you thought was Sable and setting her car on fire with a Molotov cocktail?”
She raised an eyebrow. “No. But maybe I should write a song about that and take credit.”
“Tell me about the feud between you two.”
“Publicity. My people came to me with the idea, and I said let’s run with it.”
“Sable says you took the feud seriously.”
