Page 65 of Between Never and Forever
“They aremysongs, and you damn well know it.Mine, Hammond. Those songs are my story. My whole fucking heart. I won’t let you just pimp them out to some wannabe rockstar so the label can recoup a buck. I won’t allow it.”
My voice cracks, and I hate myself for it. The thought of someone else behind my mic fills me with rage. The fact that my bandmates—people I used to consider family—are okay with it, cuts me in half.
“Savannah,” he says with an irritated sigh, “you don’t have a choice.”
“So, these are my options? Be forced through another album, another world tour, or watch someone else take my place?”
The devastation in my voice is palpable. The Hometown Heartless was my life. It’s my legacy. I can’t just hand that over to a stranger. It’s not supposed to continue without me. When I said I was done, it was supposed to be done, too.
Hammond doesn’t answer my question. He doesn’t confirm or deny. He doesn’t have to. We all know the label has me backed into a corner.
“You don’t have to make the decision right now,” he says curtly, pulling his phone from his pocket and typing on it once more. “The label is going to run with the hiatus story for the time being. Your new movie role works out nicely for that headline. Take the four months to film. Think it over. We’ll use that time to scout—”
“Toscout?”
“Discreetly,” he adds, raising a brow at my outburst. “You can’t expect them to sit around and wait for you without covering their bases.”
“You can’t just replace me, Hammond. Iamthis band. This band would be nothing without me."
The moment the words are out of my mouth, I regret them.
I hear Torren scoff. Can see Mabel staring daggers at me from my periphery. I regret saying it, but it’s not a lie. It’s my voice that sells out arenas and breaks streaming records. It’s my face they want to see. My music they want to hear. My lyrics they want to sing. The Hometown Heartless wouldn’t be the same without Sav Loveless. They wouldn’t even exist.
Hammond stares at me for a moment, gaze scanning my face before locking back onto my eyes.
“You’re right. To an extent. This band wouldn’t be what it is without you. You are why The Hometown Heartless is such a global phenomenon. We all know it. But you’re also wrong.”
He slips his phone back in his pocket, then smooths the lapels of his suit jacket.
“Theycanreplace you, Savannah, and they will. And if they have to, they will remold and repackage this band—the band that you put your blood, sweat, and vomit into—until it’s something they can resell to consumers to make back the money they will lose when you walk. To your fans, you’re Sav Loveless. But to the label? You’re a dollar sign. And as far as you need to be concerned, the label is all that matters right now.”
I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach.
And he’s right. I know he is. Just another Where Are They Now internet search.
I don’t say anything. I pick a spot on the floor and stare at it, processing everything that’s been said. Trying like hell and failing to regain my footing.
“Take the four months. Maybe a little vacay from the band will do you some good. Shoot your movie. Think it over.”
I take a deep breath, drop my eyes closed, and concede, “Okay.”
He turns to leave. I listen to his steps as he crosses the floor. He reaches the door, and I listen as it opens, but before walking out, he shoots one last bullet through my heart.
“And during that time, wear the ring.”
My mouth drops, and I whip my eyes to Torren, but he’s gaping at Hammond. I turn my glare back to the devil at the door, and he’s already staring back at me.
“It’s my job to know these things,” he says pointedly. “If you wear the ring, it will keep the press interested—”
“But I didn’t say yes,” I butt in.
Hammond doesn’t even acknowledge me. He just keeps on talking.
“The tabloids won’t run the stories about a lovers’ quarrel breaking up the band, and the fans are more likely to buy into the hiatus. It will also give the label time to find your replacement without a media shitstorm.”
“I didn’t say yes, Hammond!”
This time I shout it, and he sighs again, exasperated, like I’m a tantruming toddler.
