More Than Anything (19 page)

He stalks down the hall to the bathroom, leaving me shaking. Nobody’s ever talked to me like that, and for a moment all I can do is see red. How dare he? He’s just angry because I’m not interested in him.

Then I return to reality. His feelings for me are probably the only thing that’s stopped him from throwing in the towel at this point and saying he can’t finish the project. The truth is that Sebastian doesn’t need me in the slightest – but I need him like he’s the antidote.

And…he’s totally right. My mind hasn’t been on the work. It’s been on Derek and my mom and how much my life sucks and how unfair everything is. And it’s obviously showing.

When he returns, I clear my throat, and he sits down opposite me on the couch.

“Sebastian, you’re right. And I’m sorry. I know you’re going way above and beyond for me, and I appreciate it. I’ll figure my personal stuff out. Can we forget we ever had this conversation?” I ask, my tone contrite.

He studies me and then nods. “Look, it’s probably obvious to you that I like you, Sage. In a perfect world, you’d be unattached and maybe we’d be looking at something more than a professional relationship. But what we have to work with is this, so we have to do the best we can. I’m not trying to bag on you or make you miserable. I’m trying to make you a star. But it’s harder than hell even under the best of circumstances, much less in only six weeks with someone who has zero studio experience. You’re doing great, but you’re already handicapped. Talent makes up for some of that, but nobody can take it the rest of the way but you. Which means you need to want this more than life itself, and nothing, and I do mean nothing, can interfere with your success. I’m giving you the benefit of a lot of experience, Sage. Listen to me. This is not a lock. Nothing’s guaranteed. Your performance over the next couple of weeks will determine whether you’re huge or just another name that fades into oblivion.”

My voice is trembling when I respond. “I know.”

He sighs and rises. “Okay, then. Put some of that passion into this next take, will you? Because the one you just did sounded like you were phoning it in. I need a performance like your last one on the show – something that’ll stop traffic. Are you ready to blow me away?”

I nod. “Absolutely.”

The afternoon’s tracks are way better, and I hate how right Sebastian always is about everything. When we finish for the evening, he’s back to the same easygoing Sebastian I’m used to, and gives me our customary high five as I leave for the day. He, on the other hand, will stay for another six hours, as usual, to polish the day’s work.

When I get home I’m feeling melancholy, now that I’ve lost the high I was on when I thought I could realistically get away. I go to YouTube and watch Derek’s final performance on the show, which now has over three million views, about half of them me, and choke up halfway through as I always do.

The camera does a close-up as he gets to the chorus, and he grins for a split second – my favorite part of the song, and one that I always pause just to see that look. I like to imagine he’s singing just for me – which in a way, I believe he is. It’s hard to tear my eyes away from his face, which is beyond gorgeous, but when my cell rings I dive for it, not wanting to miss his call – he’s become very regular about calling after he knows I’m done for the day.

“Hey,” he says when I answer.

“Hey yourself.”

“How’d it go?”

I don’t tell him about my butting heads with Sebastian and being chewed a new one. “Good. We should be done with the lead vocals in a week or less. How about you?”

“We’re on the same program. What’s funny is we’ll probably have our albums out about the same time.”

“That’s got to be good for sales, don’t you think?” I ask. The truth is I hope his sells more than mine, but I don’t say that. I’ve been thinking about how low-key he’s being about getting the lesser deal all around, and I’m sure he’s doing it for my sake, so I don’t see how badly he wants this to be his big break. It’s so like him to hide his disappointment. But there’s nothing I can do about the situation, so I let it go.

“I’m not worried. It’ll sell what it sells. Nothing I can do about it but sing as well as I can.”

“What do you think so far?”

“It would have been way better to be singing with you, is what I think.”

I steer the conversation back to his recording. “But your tracks?”

“Everyone seems jazzed about them. But whether anyone will buy them is another question.”

“Of course they will. Look at your YouTube numbers.”

“My what?”

I remember that Derek’s even less tech savvy than I am. “You never got a computer, did you?”

“I haven’t had the time.”

As I thought. “YouTube has your performances from the show. You have millions of views.”

“Are you on there?”

“Of course. Everyone is.”

“How many do you have?”

I don’t know. I never watch my own clips. “Beats me.”

“Aren’t you curious? Go look. I’ll wait.”

It’s cute that he thinks I need to go somewhere, like the mainframe room or something, to see. I tap my name into the search window and pull up my clips, and I’m floored. My most popular one has fourteen million views.

“It looks like we’re about the same,” I say.

“I’ll make a point of getting a computer this week.”

“Promise?”

“Well, I may be a little swamped, finishing up the vocals, but for you…”

“What else is going on?” I ask.

“Oh, nothing. Just taking a trip once I’m done with my vocal tracks. Four days.”

“Where you going?” I ask.

“Los Angeles,” he says, like it’s no big deal. I can hear the smile over the phone, though, and I squeal like one of his fans.

“Really? Are you serious?”

“Didn’t I mention it?”

“Maybe you did. I probably forgot.”

“Well, write it down this time. I’ll be in next Thursday, arriving LAX at eight p.m.”

I feel giddy, and I realize I’m hyperventilating. “You’re actually coming,” I manage.

“Yeah. I’m just hoping I can find a decent hotel.”

“I could probably swing cleaning all the junk out of one of the extra bedrooms.”

“I hate to put you out.”

“I’ll have one of my servants attend to it.”

We both laugh together. “I miss you so much, Derek. You don’t know how happy this makes me.”

“Me too, Sage. They weren’t super pleased I was taking some time off, but I told them it wasn’t negotiable. Besides, once I’m done with my tracks, I don’t have to physically be there for anything. So consider it a date.”

When I hang up, I’m floating. Only a week away and he’ll be here! I start pacing around the apartment, overthinking everything. Should I expect him to sleep with me? Of course. But will it seem slutty if I tell him to put his stuff in my room? And if I give him one of the other rooms, will that send the wrong message?

I need to get some perfume. And some champagne. Which will be a problem since I can’t buy it legally. There’s so much to do and only a week!

I want to pick him up at the airport, but I don’t have a car. Plus I’m still a loser in the getting my license department – I’m in the studio all day, every day, so legitimately I haven’t had a chance. It hasn’t mattered until now. Which is another way of saying it doesn’t matter until it does – like wearing a seatbelt or having a parachute.

I text Melody, and of course, she has all the answers.

Melody:
Can’t you ask June for help? She’s twenty-one, right?

Me:
I hate to impose.

Melody:
Doesn’t she look for reasons to hang out with you?

Me:
Kind of.

Melody:
Just ask her. If she won’t, hire a limo. You’re loaded.

Me:
Not really, but good idea. Wonder what they cost?

Melody:
Less than a flight to New York.

Me:
Good point.

Melody:
Buy condoms. Lots and lots of condoms.

I blush. Figures she’d cut to the chase.

Me:
Good thinking. Is there a discount by the case?

Melody:
Ask him whether he needs the XXL. I bet he does.

Me:
Don’t you ever think of anything else?

Melody:
Like what? Speaking of which, I haven’t forgotten about my producer, what’s his name.

Me:
Sebastian.

Melody:
Whatever. You’ve been keeping your hands off him, right?

Me:
Of course.

Melody:
I’ll let you know when I’m coming down. Maybe you can ask what size he needs, too? Two birds w 1 stone…

Me:
Bye, Melody.

Melody:
Adios, baby.

My stomach rumbles, and I ignore it, preferring to make a list of all the things I need to do in a week. By the time I make it out the door to grab something to eat it’s almost ten, but I’ve never been so happy to be starved in my life, and for the first time in ever I feel like things are finally back under control.

Derek in a week.

Doesn’t get any better than that.

The sessions go by in a blur, and then it’s Thursday. My lead vocals are finished, and Sebastian seems really happy with what we did, which is a huge relief. Now we’re down to background vocals and some final instrumental flourishes, and then it’ll be time to begin mixing, which he thinks will take three weeks of insanely focused work. But that’s what he does, so I’m not worried.

Terry’s already working on my tour, coordinating with Saul to plan my appearances around the time the album launches. My spots for the show have slowed to one a week, which is just as well, because it’s all I’ve been able to do to finish my tracks on time.

June agreed to drive to the airport, and stocked the apartment with three bottles of champagne. She helped me pick out fragrances, but I did the condom thing on my own, feeling incredibly self-conscious going into Target to buy them. I had my baseball cap pulled down low, my hair in a ponytail, and shades on even though it was night. I never asked Derek about size – after researching it on the web, I realized Melody was F-ing with me.

I cut out early and take a long bath to relax, but I’m still on pins and needles by the time June picks me up at seven thirty. When I get into the car, she looks me up and down and sniffs approvingly.

“You look gorgeous, Sage. That’s one lucky guy.”

I blush. “I think we’re both pretty lucky to have each other.”

“It’s good you feel that way,” she says. “You smell awesome. Tell me I don’t have great taste.”

“You absolutely do, June.”

“I rock.”

I nod and smile. “Like nobody’s business.”

She puts the car in gear and rolls away from the curb. “What do you have planned after we pick him up?”

“I figured we could drop his stuff off and then walk around the Village, get something to eat.”

She smirks. “Might want to modify that. If I were you, I’d have my clothes off before he was through the door.”

I feel like I must be turning purple by now, and wonder if I’m going to faint from lack of blood everywhere but my face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“This is so exciting! I remember seeing him on TV, too, and thinking it would be close between the two of you. I mean, I always thought you’d win, but he’s got a lot of…charm. And he can sing like a bird.”

“I know what you mean. Sometimes I wonder if things would have been easier if he’d won.”

“That’s stupid. The winner won. To hear my brother talk, you’ve got a hit record, and I’m going to be the envy of everyone I know because I get to hang with you. I can’t wait. You so have to fly me to St. Bart or whatever when you’re famous. I’ll be your entourage.”

“St. what?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make the flight reserv–”

The car explodes as the airbags deploy, and suddenly we’re upside down, skidding on the hood. For an instant I see blood pouring out of June’s nose, and then I blink, and my vision’s red from my own.

And then everything goes black and silent.

~ ~ ~

My hearing’s distorted. There are screaming and sirens, but they sound distant. I’m hanging upside down, my seatbelt holding me in place. I try to move my neck and open my eyes, but the pain’s excruciating, and I pass out again. My only thought as I lose consciousness is Derek. Who’s going to pick up Derek?

~ ~ ~

I’m bouncing, lying on something soft. I crack my eyes open, and there’s a guy with a flashlight staring at me.

“You’ve been in an accident. We’re on our way to the hospital. Don’t try to talk or move,” he says.

“June,” I croak, but my tongue feels swollen, and my lips are like worms. My voice is someone else’s. Her name comes out sounding like ‘Ooohmm.’ I’m going to try again, but I slip away into darkness, suddenly exhausted with the effort of being in this world.