Dance to the Piper (21 page)

"You're going to have to prove it to me. Give me a hug."

She bent down to hold them both tight. "We rode on a plane," Chris began. "I got to sit by the window."

"Miss O'Hurley, they want you in Wardrobe."

"Shoot." Maddy released her nephews and straightened. "Look, where are you all staying? There's a whole list of hotels on the call board. I can—"

"We're booked in your hotel," Molly told her. "Now go on, we'll have plenty of time."

"Okay. Are you going to stay for rehearsal?"

"Think they could stop us?" Frank asked.

When she heard her name again, she started down the hall, walking backward to keep them in view just a moment longer. "As soon as I'm done, we're going to celebrate. I'm buying."

Frank chuckled and draped an arm over his wife's shoulders. "Does she think we'd argue with that? Let's go get a front-row seat."

"Mr. Selby to see you, sir." Hannah kept a cool, professional smile on her face as she ushered Selby into Reed's office.

"Thank you, Hannah. Hold my calls." There would be no tray of coffee and sweet rolls today. Reed caught Hannah's look of disapproval before she shut the door. "Sit down, Selby."

"I guess your old man's proud of you.'' Selby cast a look around the office before he settled himself comfortably. "You've kept the label right up top. Heard you signed that little group from D.C. A risky move."

Reed merely lifted a brow and held his gaze steady. He knew Galloway had offered the group a contract. Valentine had simply offered them a better one. "We don't mind a few risks."

"Always a headache to get the stations to put new talent on their playlist. A record from an unknown's going to die without solid promotion." Selby took out a small, thin cigar, then fiddled with his lighter. "That's why I'm here. I thought it would be wise if we talked before the RIAA meeting this afternoon."

Reed continued to sit back, waiting for Selby to light his cigar. He'd known as soon as Selby had requested an appointment that the other man was running scared. The Recording Industry Association of America didn't have closed meetings every day. Those involved were aware that the label heads would vote on whether the organization should investigate independent promoters. Some major record companies, Galloway included, still used the independents, though the shadow of scandal, payola and kickbacks lurked around the edges of their profession.

"Look, Valentine," Selby began when Reed remained silent. "Neither of us started in this business yesterday. We know what the bottom line is. Airplay. Without airplay on the important stations, a record dies."

He was sweating, Reed observed calmly. Beneath the trendy pastel suit and the sunlamp tan, nerves ran hot. Just what would a full investigation mean to Galloway? Reed speculated.

"When you pay for airplay, Selby, you're riding a sick horse. Sooner or later it's going to fall down under you."

Letting out a quick stream of smoke, Selby leaned forward. "We both know how the system works. If it means slipping a few hundred to a program director, who does it hurt?"

"And if it means threatening that same program director if he doesn't play ball?"

"That's nonsense." But there was a tiny bead of sweat on his temple.

"If it is, an investigation will clear it up. In the meantime, Valentine Records will get its new releases played without independents."

"Throwing the baby out with the bathwater," Selby snapped, then rose. "Top 40 stations report their playlist to the trades. If a new release doesn't hit the trades, it might as well not exist. That's the system."

"Maybe the system needs a little reworking."

"Just as narrow-minded and straight as your old man."

A ghost of a smile touched Reed's lips. "Thank you."

"It's easy for you, isn't it?" Bitter, Selby turned on Reed. "You sit here in your cozy little office, never getting your hands dirty. Your daddy did that for you."

Reed checked his temper. "If you look," he said quietly, "you'll see my father's hands are clean. Valentine doesn't, and never has, run its business on payola, kickbacks or heavy-handed threats."

"You're not so lily-white, Valentine."

"Let's just say that in an hour Valentine Records will vote for a full investigation."

"It'll never fly." Selby smirked as he crushed out his cigar, but his hands weren't steady. He'd come to Reed because Valentine had the reputation and power to sway the vote. Now he was choking. Selby loosened the careful knot of his tie. "Too many labels know where the bread's buttered. Even if you probe, I won't lose. Oh, a few heads will roll down the line, but mine won't. Ten years ago, Galloway was a hole-in-the-wall. Today it's one of the top names in the business. I made it because I played the game, I watched the angles. When the dust settles, Valentine, I'm still going to be on top."

"I'm sure you will," Reed murmured as Selby stormed out of his office. Men like that never paid for their actions. They had plenty of fall guys and scapegoats littering their path. If Reed had wanted a personal vendetta, he could have initiated an investigation of his own. Already he had information on a disc jockey who'd been beaten, allegedly for not playing certain releases. There was the program director in New Jersey whose wife had been threatened. There was another who made frequent trips to Vegas, traveling first-class and gambling heavily. More heavily than his annual salary would permit. Part of the game. Not a game Reed cared to play.

But it was unlikely Selby would pay for his actions. Did anyone?

Rising, he checked the contents of his briefcase. It was true that he had come into a business that had already been well established. He hadn't had to hustle his way to a label. If he had, would he have scrambled for a shortcut? Because he didn't know, couldn't be sure, Reed decided to leave the investigation up to the RIAA. He'd let the dust settle. It would be a long, probably ugly meeting, Reed thought as he stepped out of his office.

"I won't be back today, Hannah."

"Good luck, Mr. Valentine. You had a few calls while you were talking to that man."

His mouth twitched a little at her tone. "Anything important?"

"No, nothing that can't wait. You did get a call from Miss O'Hurley." Hannah sent him an entirely-too-innocent smile and hoped for a reaction. The fact that he hesitated told Hannah everything she needed to know.

"If she calls back, tell her…"

"Yes, Mr. Valentine?"

"Tell her I'll get back to her."

Disappointment ruled for a moment. "Ah, Mr. Valentine?"

"Yes?"

She could see the impatience, but pressed just a little further. "I wondered if you were going to Philadelphia for the opening, or if perhaps you'd like me to send flowers."

He thought of the meeting he had to deal with, of the work that couldn't be ignored. He thought of Maddy's face and the confusion that had been dogging him for days. Her feelings, his, his needs, hers. Were they really the same, or were they so totally opposed that they could never come together?

"My father's going. If I don't, we'll be represented."

"I see," Hannah said primly, and stacked papers on her desk.

"I'll take care of the flowers myself."

"See that you do," she muttered as he went out the glass doors.

It had gone well. Maddy dropped crosswise on her bed and let the rehearsal play back in her head. She wouldn't jinx it by saying it was perfect, but she could think it. As long as she thought it very quietly.

Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night at this time, she thought with a little skip of the pulse, she'd be in her dressing room. Twenty-four hours. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. How in the hell was she going to get through the next twenty-four hours?

He hadn't called back, Maddy shifted her head so that she could look at the phone again. They had only spoken to each other a handful of times since she'd left for Philadelphia, and every time they had she'd sensed he was trying to distance himself from her. Maybe he'd succeeded.

A dancer was no stranger to pain. You felt it, acknowledged it, then went on and worked around it. Heartache might be a little more difficult to deal with than a pulled muscle, but she would go on. Survive. She'd always prided herself on being a survivor.

Her family was here. Rousing herself from the bed, Maddy went to the closet. She would change, put on her happiest face and take her family out on the town. Not everyone was as lucky as she, Maddy reminded herself as she stripped out of her sweats. She had a family who loved her, who stood behind her, who thought she was just fine the way she was.

She had a career that was on the rise. Even if she lost her grip on the brass ring, no one could take her dancing away from her. If she had to go back and play the clubs again, do regional theater, summer stock, she'd still be happy.

Maddy O'Hurley didn't need a man to complete her life, because her life was complete. She didn't want a knight on a white charger to scoop her up and take her away from all this. She liked where she was, who she was.

If Reed backed out of her life, she could—She leaned back against the closet door with a sigh. She could very possibly be the most miserable person alive. No, she didn't need him to save or protect her. She needed him to love her, and though she didn't think he could understand, she needed him to let her love him.

When she heard the knock on her door, Maddy shook herself out of what was dangerously close to depression. "Who is it?"

"It's Abby."

Leaving her robe untied, Maddy dashed to the door. Abby stood there, looking fresh and quietly lovely in a slim white dress. "Oh, you're all ready. I haven't even started."

"I dressed early so I could come down and talk."

"Before you say anything, I have to tell you how wonderful you look. Maybe it's Dylan, maybe it's the country air, but you've never looked better."

"Maybe it's pregnancy."

"What?"

"I found out right before we left home." She took Maddy by the shoulders, looking as though she could take on the world. "I'm going to have another baby."

"Oh, God. Oh, Abby, that's great. I'm going to cry."

"Okay. Let's sit down while you do."

Maddy searched fruitlessly in her robe pocket for tissue. "How does Dylan feel about it?"

"Stunned." Abby laughed as they sat together on the bed. Her eyes were soft. The hint of rose under her skin enhanced the curve of her cheeks. She pushed her wavy blond hair behind her back before she took Maddy's hands. "We're going to make the announcement at dinner tonight."

"And you're going to start taking better care of yourself. No more mucking out the stalls. I mean it, Abby," she continued before her sister could speak. "If I have to lecture Dylan, I will."

"You don't have to. He'd like to wrap me up in tissue for the next seven months or so. We weren't made for that, Maddy, you know we weren't."

"Maybe not, but you can ease off." She threw her arms around her sister and squeezed. "I'm so happy for you."

"I know. Now I want you to talk to me." Firm, Abby straightened her back. "Chantel called me and said you were making yourself crazy over some man."

"She would," Maddy muttered. "I'm not making myself crazy over anything. It's not my style." Abby supped off her shoes. "Who is he?"

"His name's Reed Valentine."

"Valentine Records?"

"That's right. How do you know?"

"I still keep up with the industry a little. And Dylan worked with him on a book some time ago."

"Yes, Reed mentioned it."

"And?"

"And nothing. I met him, I fell in love with him, I made a fool of myself." She tried to keep her voice careless and light, and nearly succeeded. "Now I'm sitting here staring at the phone waiting for him to call. Like a teenager."

"You never had much of a chance to be a teenager when you were sixteen."

"I don't care much for it. He's a good man, Abby. Kind and gentle, though he'd never see that in himself. Can I tell you about him?"

"You know you can."

She started at the beginning and left nothing out It never occurred to her that she was betraying Reed's privacy. In truth, she wasn't. Whatever she said to

Abby or to Chantel was like telling her thoughts to herself.

Abby listened in her calm, serene way while Maddy told her everything; the love, the compromises, the trauma that had marred Reed's childhood and affected his life. Because they were so in tune with each other, Abby hurt when her sister did.

"So you see, no matter how much I love him, I can't change what happened to him or how he feels."

"I'm sorry." They shifted together, with Abby's arm around Maddy's shoulder. "I know how painful it is. I can only tell you that I know absolutely that if you love hard enough you can work miracles. Dylan didn't want to love me. The truth is, I didn't want to love him, either." It was easy to look back and remember. "We'd both made a decision never to risk that kind of involvement again. It was a very logical decision made by two intelligent people." She smiled a little, leaning her head against Maddy's. "Love has a way of wiping out everything but what really matters."

"I've tried to tell myself that. But Abby, he wasn't dishonest with me. Right from the start he made it clear that he didn't want to get involved. It was to be a very casual relationship, which of course isn't a relationship at all. I'm the one who stepped over the line, so I'm the one who had to make the adjustments."

"That's also very logical. What happened to your optimism, Maddy?"

"I left it in a drawer at home."

"Then it's time you pulled it out again. This isn't like you, mooning around, looking at the dark side. You were the one who always planted her feet and refused to budge until things worked out your way."

"This is different."

"No, it's not. Don't you know how much I've always wanted to be as confident of myself as you are? I always envied that quality in you Maddy, when day after day I went on, afraid of failing."

"Oh, Abby."

"It's true, and you can't let me down now. If you love him, really love him, then you've got to plant your feet until he can admit he loves you, too."