The Song in My Heart (23 page)

“I’m here about your
girlfriend
.” Dayna’s tone was accusatory, as though Dess had been unfaithful or had done something wrong. What a joke that was. Dayna was the one who could never be trusted. There were rumors of at least two affairs in the years they were together—the last one when Dess was sick.

“I should have thrown your ass out long before you left me,” Dess said in a tone full of venom that was understated, but precisely meant to injure.

“Please. You want to rehash all that ancient history?”

“No.” Dayna was right. She’d moved on, and, until this stupid goddamned storm had happened, she’d been in the best place in her life in years. Decades, perhaps. She was enjoying music again. And she was in love. A small gasp escaped her lips at the realization.

“So it’s like this.” Dayna’s smile hinted at some secret and valuable possession, and Dess wanted to smack it right off her face. “Erika Alvarez is quite the young talent.”

Dayna was about the last person on earth with whom Dess wanted to talk about Erika. “Get on with it.”

“I snuck into her rehearsal yesterday for a few minutes. Long enough to see for myself her incredible potential. With her looks, her voice, her stage presence…” Dayna let out a long, rapturous sigh that unnerved Dess. “The sky is really the limit.”

“Spare me the report card on Erika. She’s an A-plus, and that’s obvious to anyone with half a brain. Now tell me why you give a shit.”

“That’s easy. When the press outed you after your accident last week, I got curious. I thought, who could possibly manage to drag Dess Hampton out of her self-imposed exile from the music business? I figured it’d have to be somebody pretty spectacular. And my, my, Erika Alvarez certainly is that.”

Dess didn’t like the sexual undertones in Dayna’s words. Didn’t even like her saying Erika’s name. Inside, she was coiling up like a snake, ready to strike if Dayna said one more goddamned word about Erika.

“Is she as good in the bedroom as she is onstage?”

“You fucking bitch!” Dess exploded. If she’d had two good arms, she’d pummel Dayna into a miserable little lump.

Dayna simply smiled at the outburst. “Sorry, that wasn’t very polite of me, was it? I just figured, a tiger on the stage has to be a tiger in the bedroom too. Although, sadly, I could never say that about you.”

It took a moment before Dess was calm enough to speak. If she couldn’t smack Dayna, she could at least verbally bruise her before she kicked her ass out of here. “She’s a fuck of a lot better in the bedroom than you ever were. And maybe you would have gotten more out of me in bed if you’d been worth the effort.”

Laughter bubbled from Dayna’s collagened lips. “Touché. Nice to know I can still get a rise out of you.”

Dess hated her lack of self-restraint around Dayna. The bitch knew how to push her buttons, and Dess always fell into the trap. Well, enough of that. “You wanted to see who I was fucking and who I was collaborating with musically. Fine. Show’s over. You can crawl back into your cave now, Dayna.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, my dear.” Dayna unzipped the sleek leather portfolio from beside her feet, carefully sliding out a thin sheaf of papers. “This is the last contract you had with me.”

Dess waved away Dayna’s offer to examine the papers. “Our contract was terminated when I quit the business. You said so yourself at the time when you…left.”

“That was mostly true. But our business arrangement wasn’t exactly terminated. It went into a period of dormancy.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that as long as you stayed away from either performing or recording for a minimum of ten years following our dissolution, your management contract with me would become invalid. The minute you resumed those actions—performing in this case—within that ten-year frame, the contract became active again.”

Dess couldn’t believe this sorry attempt at blackmail. Could Dayna really be so desperate? So vengeful? “Look, I’ve made peanuts from this tour. Less than four thousand dollars so far. If you’re so poor that you need a few grand, then fine. You can have it. I don’t care.”

“I’d forgotten how naïve you can be sometimes, Dess. It’s almost charming.” Dayna’s smile oozed contempt and ridicule. If Dess never had to look at her face again, it would be too soon. “My dear, it’s not your earnings from this little two-bit tour I’m interested in. I’m interested in something much bigger than that.”

“Look, the tour was fun while it lasted, but I’m done. I can’t play guitar again for months. I still can’t sing. By the end of this summer, Erika will have outgrown my meager talents anyway. There’s nothing for you to try to horn in on, okay?”

Ignoring her, Dayna flipped through the contract after extracting pink-framed reading glasses from a pocket of the portfolio case. “Oh, it’s not you and your cheesy guitar playing I’m interested in,” she said, peering over her glasses. “It’s your young protégé, Erika Alvarez.”

Well, you can’t have her
, Dess shouted inside her own head. What she said to Dayna was, “Erika won’t go near you with a ten-foot pole, so you can forget trying to sign her.”

“Now that’s where you’re wrong. The escape clause in your contract stipulates that if you collaborate with another musical artist in any way and if that artist is unsigned during that collaboration, the right to manage said artist falls to me.”

Dess felt her blood go cold. “What? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It’s right here, in black and white. And that’s your signature at the bottom of it.” Dayna triumphantly held up the contract. “Sounded like a pretty innocuous little paragraph at the time, didn’t it? Especially when you had no intention of ever re-igniting your career again.”

“Jesus Christ, Dayna. You can’t be serious about this. I signed that thing to rid you from my life once and for all. I was still sick, still in chemo.”

“Oh no, don’t you try to act like you didn’t know what you were signing. That you were too distraught or too physically and emotionally unwell. You would have signed away the rights to your firstborn if you’d thought it would keep me out of your life.”

“I wasn’t well, goddammit, and you took advantage of me!”

“No court would support you on that now. Not after all this time.”

Dess’s arm throbbed, and she craved a pain pill to help dull the burning rage consuming her. “So you’re going to sue me? Is that what this is all about?”

“Oh, I don’t want to sue you. Not unless I have to.” Dayna tucked her glasses away and leaned forward. “What I want is a piece of Erika. She’s got the goods, and I want to manage her. You’re going to make that happen. And if you don’t? Then yes, I will sue your ass off. And Erika’s, too.”

“Get out!” Dess shouted. “Get the fuck out of my house and don’t come back.”

Dayna retreated hastily to the door, but not before sliding her business card onto the table in the hallway. “I expect to hear from you or your lawyer in the next couple of days. And you
will
let me know once you’ve set up a meeting between you and Erika and me. And it needs to happen before she leaves Chicago.”

Dess slammed the door so hard behind Dayna that it caused Maggie to bark in surprise. Sliding down the door to the floor, Dess began shaking uncontrollably.

* * *

It was Sloane’s idea to rent a twenty-one-foot powerboat and take the three of them out on Lake Michigan for a lazy afternoon. Sloane had grown up around boats, and Erika agreed that it would be the perfect way to escape the paparazzi and to relax before tomorrow night’s big concert. The performance was going to be the biggest of her life so far—the Chicago audience would be sizable, and there were sure to be record label scouts and potential management representatives in attendance. The media would be out in droves, especially since word had gotten out about Dess’s connection to the band. The pressure would be intense, but weighing more on Erika’s mind was Dess’s somber mood. Last night she hadn’t even come to bed, preferring to curl up on the sofa instead. She’d barely spoken over breakfast and couldn’t seem to look Erika in the eye. A lesser woman, Erika supposed, would give up on Dess or blame herself for the growing chasm between them. But Erika knew that if she waited long enough, Dess would come around.

Erika glanced helplessly at Sloane, who also seemed to understand that something beyond last weekend’s accident and the pesky reporters was bringing Dess down.

The waves on Lake Michigan were small rollers—under a foot high—and provided just enough motion to rock the boat rhythmically once Sloane silenced the motor and lowered the anchor. The sun sparkled on the water, as though a thousand large diamonds had been sprinkled around them. In the distance, the tall shadows of skyscrapers drizzled dark along the water’s blue edge.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” Dess said, her face to the sun. “Calming.”

Sloane swiveled the captain’s chair to face Dess, who had sprawled next to Erika on a wide bench seat in the stern. “Is it?”

“Absolutely,” Dess said right away, but her voice lacked any enthusiasm.

Sloane reached into the cooler beside her and cracked open a Budweiser. “You going to tell us what’s wrong?”

Leave it to Sloane
, Erika thought with a mix of concern and relief, to get right to the point.

Dess pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. Her stormy gray eyes were red-rimmed, sleep-deprived. “Ah, so that’s why you got me out here on this boat. Confess or be dumped over the side, is that it?”

Sloane’s smile was shark-like. “If it works, why not?”

Dess pointed at the cooler. “I think I need one of those.”

“Aren’t you still on your pain pills?” Sloane asked cautiously.

“Like I said, I need one of those.”

Sloane tossed her a can.

“Easy, honey,” Erika whispered.

“If I was going to become an alcoholic or a drug addict, believe me, it would have happened long before now.” Dess popped the tab and took a swig. Her feet were in Erika’s lap, and Erika massaged her toes gently. She closed her eyes at her touch, but the muscles in her legs remained tighter than Sloane’s drumheads.

Quietly, Dess said, “Most of this pertains to Erika. I think it’s better if—”

“No,” Erika said. If Dess was in the mood for a heart-to-heart, she wasn’t about to let the moment slip away. “Whatever it is, Sloane’s going to know about it sooner or later anyway.” Erika had already told her that Dess had changed her mind about remaining on tour with them, thanks to the brewing media storm.

“Fine,” Dess replied. “But I want you both to promise me you won’t do anything rash once I tell you.”

“Fuck that,” Sloane said. “I’m forty years old, which means I’ve earned the right to do all the rash things I want.”

Dess’s laughter immediately dissolved the tension. “You were doing rash things well before you were forty, my friend. But I get your point.”

“Well, I can at least guarantee you I won’t murder anyone. How’s that?”

“That,” Dess said with a sad smile, “I’ll take.”

Sloane tossed her crumpled beer can into an empty bucket. “So who am I going to have to restrain myself from wanting to kill?”

Dess looked from Sloane to Erika, resignation in her eyes. She looked decidedly unhappy. Miserable, actually.
Maybe
I
will kill whoever’s done this to Dess,
Erika thought with fresh resolve.

“Dayna Williams,” Dess answered quietly and without emotion.

Sloane flew up from her seat, the sudden movement rocking the boat.

“Jesus,” Dess said, removing her feet from Erika’s lap to steady herself. “Don’t frickin’ drown us!”

“Sorry. It’s just…I hate that bitch. Don’t tell me she’s come crawling out of the woodwork?”

“Yes. She has.”

Fuck
, Erika thought. By extension, she too hated Dayna, but by the look on the faces of Sloane and Dess, Dayna’s reemergence was very bad news.

Sloane sat back down with a heavy sigh. “Fuck it. I
am
going to kill her.”

“No, you’re not.”

“What the fuck does she want? Money?”

“Not exactly.” Dess leveled apologetic eyes at Erika. “She wants you, babe.”

Dread gathered like a hard knot in the pit of Erika’s stomach as Dess explained what Dayna wanted. And her ruthless terms.

“I don’t want anything to do with her,” Erika said, anger pulsing through her. “After the way she treated you? How could she even have the nerve?”

“Easy,” Sloane answered. “She has balls and no morals. Which is exactly why she’s one of the best in the business.”

“I don’t care,” Erika said, raising her voice, “if she’s the second coming of Colonel Tom Parker. I will never agree to let her represent me.” She squeezed Dess’s hand with a confidence she didn’t feel. Things were quickly slipping away from her—first Dess, now control over her own career.
Is this how it is in the music business? With every rung you climb, you lose more and more control?

“Honey, I know how badly you want to succeed in the music business. And Sloane’s right. Dayna is one of the best. She took me to the top, after all.”

Erika shook her head. “I won’t do it if the price I have to pay is associating with her.”

Dess studied her for a long moment, nodded once. “All right then. I’ll call my lawyer as soon as we get back onshore.”

Sloane chewed on her fingernails, looking uncharacteristically worried.

“What?” Erika prompted her.

When Sloane finally spoke, her voice cracked like a tree limb splitting from its trunk. “That bitch stops at nothing until she gets what she wants. If she doesn’t want to let you go, Erika, she won’t.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“There’s good news and bad news.”

Dess expelled an uneasy breath, squeezed the hand of Erika beside her and nodded at her lawyer, Jennifer Parker, to continue.

Jennifer whipped off her reading glasses, tossed them onto her desktop and pushed her thick, wavy red hair behind her ears. “I’m afraid Dayna Williams does indeed have you both over a barrel. She’s right that she has first dibbs on representing Erika.”

“What if I choose not to hire a manager?” Erika suggested, her voice hopeful.