I stop next to my parents’ trash can.
My blood runs cold as I look at my phone.
There’s too much to process to be able to do it quickly or well.
Meadow’s words fly through my brain like a kite on crack.
Stupidly made a statement.
Going to break today.
Not going to do you any favors.
Change their minds.
My brain immediately picks up on Willa making a statement that will break, and concern flips to Bellamy.
“What the fuck did Willa say?” I wonder out loud.
I press Meadow’s name. Every ring heightens my anxiety, and when the call goes to voicemail, I see red.
“Hey, Meadow, it’s Coy. Look, I don’t know what Willa said, but you better let her know that I’m not fucking with her. My name shouldn’t be tied to hers at all, but thanks to you, I guess it is. If she uses my name to get sympathy or hurts my reputation any more, I will sue her fucking ass. Got it? Let her know. And I can’t just come back to Nashville tonight.”
My gaze travels over the fence.
I can’t leave Bellamy right now. Not this quick. I need to be here until Joe starts the new chemo at the very least. I need to make sure she knows we’re solid before I jet off for Tennessee.
“I had a family emergency yesterday, so I’ll come back to Nashville in a couple of days, a week at most. Change the meeting. Call me if you have questions.”
I end the call.
Fuck her.
I throw open the kitchen door and march inside. I sift through the big paparazzi websites on my phone as I make my way upstairs.
Finally, I find it.
Is Kelvin McCoy Headed to Rehab?
I skim the article.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say as I read.
Anger and disbelief shatter the happiness I’ve built over the past few days, and I’m pissed that I pulled up the article at all.
It’s total bullshit and to think that people can print this kind of thing and get away with it is bizarre and disgusting.
My phone buzzes, and Meadow’s name flashes on the screen.
“You better have handled that,” I bark.
“Calm down.”
“Really?” I squeeze my phone so hard that I think it might break into two pieces. “You want me to calm down when your prodigy is out there trying to ruin my motherfucking life?”
“Don’t use that language with me. I’d appreciate it if you could be professional.”
I laugh angrily. “Me too, Meadow. Me. Too. But the unprofessionalism started when you concocted this whole thing with Willa and then let her call the shots. You haven’t taken my side one fucking time and—”
“Yes, I have. I can’t control Willa. And she didn’t make that statement. Her new boyfriend did.”
“No, she did. The onus is on her. It’s on you, really, in my opinion.”
My voice raises to a level that I’m not proud of. I suck in a breath to try to calm down.
“She’s going to put out a statement today that says things were misconstrued,” Meadow says.
“She’s going to say it’s a bunch of garbage. That it’s not true. At all.”
“I’m taking care of it.” Finality oozes from her tone. “Now I need you to meet me in Nashville in the morning so we can get this contract finalized before they change their mind again.”
I sigh. “I don’t even know what they’re offering. And you expect me to run back and sign something?”
“I’m sending you and your attorney a copy this morning. It will be there by lunchtime.”
“And I’ll look at it for a couple of days and let you know.”
I hit the speakerphone button and set my phone on my desk. I’m too angry, too shaky, to hold it. I need to move, to pace, to rid myself of some of this energy before I blow.
“That doesn’t work,” she says.
“Too bad.”
“Coy, look, I’m not pulling punches here. I’ve expressed to you—repeatedly—why this contract is on shaky ground. I want to get you the best deal I can, but for that to happen, you need to cooperate.” She releases a frustrated breath. “I negotiated this all weekend. It’s the best deal we’re going to get. Two albums, one in June and one in January—”
“That’s crazy—”
“That’s fair,” she says over my start of an objection.
I growl into the air.
“It’s good money. Good royalties. The terms are solid. Soren Benson is Bob’s replacement post-merger, and he wants to meet with you in the morning. I’ve told him what an amazing artist you are and how the press has the wrong image of you. How you are working on it,” she emphasizes. “I painted you to be the face of their label in country music for the next three decades, and now you have to back me up.”
I close my eyes and grind my teeth together.
“If you don’t show up tomorrow, Coy, this deal might go down the drain, and I don’t think we’ll get anything even close to it again.”