Page 22 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

“Just one song,” I said.

“I knew you’d come through for me.”

“Trading in Winchester Falls for Hawaii is not a good time.” I turned my swing so I could see the surf for a little while longer.

“I know. I’ll add an extra hundred grand to your animal charity as incentive.”

“Wow, you are in trouble.”

“You have no idea.” I could hear the stress in his tone. This was one of the few projects he always did without fail. “I’d send my jet, but it’s probably faster to just put you in first class. I even found a direct flight while we were talking.”

“Convenient.”

“I’ll have you back in Chicago in time for your show. Even booked that for you.”

“Yeah, yeah. When do I leave?”

“I’ll have a car there to pick you up in an hour.”

“You suck, Logan.”

“You’re my favorite person in the whole wide world.” The relief in his voice was as bright as the sky full of stars in front of me.

“I just bet. There better be copious amounts of white wine when I get there.”

“I’ll have a case of your favorite Sauvignon Blanc.”

“At least you do things up in style.”

“See you soon, Lindz.”

I tucked my phone back in my pocket and gave myself five more minutes with the quiet. I was going to need it.

Seven

Christ, I wanted a drink.

I was freezing my bollocks off. October was in the air, if not quite on the calendar. Leave it to Logan to live in the great white north. Okay, so it was the truest definition of Upstate New York, but it felt like the goddamn arctic.

New York City, I understood. I could even deal with the cold. In say, November.

Not this frostbitten tundra in bloody September.

I stalked through the leaves on the walking path deep in the woods on the fringes of the property belonging to one of my oldest mates.

His wife had kicked both of us out of the house due to my bellowing. I didn’t tolerate drugs of any kind in the studio. Even a friend’s studio on loan for a single solitary song.

Everyone knew this about me.

Everyone.

No second chances.

No do overs.

No excuses.

I’d been working with Angel Martin for six bleeding months. Six. Long. Fucking. Months.

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