Page 36 of Tell Me When It's Over

Clearly, he forgets the attachments that come along with doing a feature. There will be shows. Cameos. Appearances. If it’s anything like when Single Division did shit like this, we’ll be asked to perform on the Grammys, talk shows, you name it. That’s a hell of a lot more than three minutes together.

“Mia can do whatever she wants,” I continue, knowing she will no matter my opinion on the matter. “But I’m not planning on following in her footsteps.”

“The album will be huge,” he tries again. Gordy is right. Garrick Matthews doing an album full of duets with the hottest in the industry is going to be huge.

“Good for them.”

He groans and leans back in his seat. I think another gray hair appears. “I spoke to his manager. Garrick has been asking to work with you for a while. Why are you still so hung up on hating him?”

I’ve long since gotten over him screwing my girlfriend, which is the question Gordy isn’t asking. Mia is right. I never liked Kylie all that much, and she cared more about her designer clothes and reputation than me. Ironic considering she fucked herself over when the media got ahold of the cheating scandal. I’ve learned that most people who want to tie me down are more focused on what it does to elevate them anyway. It’s been years of dealing with his cocky ass self that grates on my nerves. “I don’t hate him. I simply don’t want to collaborate. With anyone.”

All he does is stare like I’ve grown another head. It’s probably because he’s putting the puzzle pieces together. I turned down three other chances to put music out there in the past six months. All with other artists who range from people I’ve idolized to others I’ve never even heard of.

“I hate what this industry has become.”

“So, change it.”

Snorting, I shake my head. “Nah, man. Too much work for one person. If my name pops back up, people will expect the same shit. I’m happy writing.” It’s not a lie. I love writing music for other people. I enjoy hearing their takes on my lyrics and watching them adapt each cord.

I won’t pretend that I don’t itch to be on the other side of the mic sometimes, strumming my favorite guitar, but it’s not in the books for me. Not when Leighton is trying to pick up the pieces her mother left her with. Putting out music means garnering more attention than either of us wants or needs right now.

“This is because of your dad, isn’t it?”

I deadpan. “For fuck’s sake. What does Harry have to do with any of this? It’s because of me, Gordy. I get that my old label is breathing down your neck, but you work for me. Not them. So, listen to me about what I want to do instead of worrying about those assholes.”

My father may be one of the best music producers his generation, and mine, has ever seen, but he has nothing to do with me. When I broke away from the band and went solo, I told him I wanted someone else to work with on album production. No bias. A clean slate to prove I could s

ucceed without him.

I’m not an idiot. He still had some power in the matter because one look could make people piss themselves, but I needed that freedom. He’d given me the chance to prove what I could do without him, though I think he was waiting for me to fail, and I didn’t.

Until now. Well, I’m failing in his eyes. Not being under his thumb pisses him off because he can’t control my career like he did before my balls dropped and voice deepened. Too fucking bad for him.

“He’s asking, isn’t he?”

Gordy goes silent.

“Gordy,” I growl in warning. “Is he the one who’s asking about this? I swear to—”

“Jesus,” he unbuttons his suit jacket and peels it off. I’m surprised there aren’t sweat stains under his arms by now. He usually doesn’t dress up for our meetings, but I know he met a few people from my old label earlier. “No. Harry hasn’t said anything directly, but Kalvin has been hinting that there’s been pressure from up above. The time for comeback artists is here and they want to capitalize.”

Which is exactly why they won’t get me back. I walked away when they were pushing me in a direction I didn’t want to go down. I took control. I told them no. I’m not about to derail my decisions because my father is barking orders. They’re lucky enough I’ve been working with them on songs for their other artists, but if they keep pushing then shit is going to get ugly.

“You know, Garrick isn’t a bad guy.”

That’s where I draw a line. “As much as I’d love to talk about Garrick Matthews, I’ll leave that up to the fan club you’re in with his other loyal followers.” I know I’m being a jackass, but it’s been a long day. I couldn’t go for my run, which is time I use to clear my head, because the weather sucked. Leighton’s bathroom has a leak that needs to be fixed and nobody is available to come look at it right away. On top of that, Mia has been bothering me to bring Lenny out to see her, and when I didn’t, she took it into her own hands. Should have realized she would. “It’s bad enough Mia is playing house with the dude, his brother, and Leighton right now.”

“Chase Matthews is there?”

“Yeah. You know him?”

A shoulder lifts. “Not really. I’ve talked with him a few times in the past. Decent kid. You’d like him. He’s nothing like Garrick.”

That does make knowing he’s schmoozing it up with Leighton a little easier to handle. My sister’s bright idea to get Lenny to stay by introducing her to people is almost comical. She thinks if she has friends, she’ll feel better about sticking around. Fat chance.

“I suppose that’s a good thing,” I relent. I don’t know much about Chase, but if he’s hanging out with Leighton then I should learn a thing or two. “How old is this kid anyway?”

“Chase is a year older than Lenny.”

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