Frank paused and gazed up at me. Our eyes met.
I was in awe. His confession moved me yet alarmed me at the same time.
“Don’t analyze it, Cassy,” he said as if he sensed me trying to paint a different picture of him in my head. A real picture.
I understood him. I understood why he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He was scared. And I was going to let it go and be what he needed me to be. His light.
“And here I thought you liked me for me.” My lips were twisted in a pout. “Turns out, some chick named Fate gets all the credit. Was my fun personality not enough?”
“Your fun personality, your yoga, and your striptease skills.” He grinned and splashed more water in my face.
“Grrrr,” I growled at him, balling my fists. “You’ll pay for that in due time, Frank Wallace.”
“I don’t doubt it. But until then, I’ll take a strip show every night before bed.”
Chapter Six
“I’m glad you decided to continue with us, Frank,” Linda said, smiling politely as she returned to her MacBook to make a few notes.
“It’s not your fault my bandmates and the record label want me out.” His hand squeezed mine softly. He’d been taking off the sling for a couple of hours every morning per his doctor’s request, but temporary loss of motor function didn’t allow him to do much with his right arm yet. It was baby steps on the way to a full recovery.
We sat at the table inside the den. Brooklyn stood off to the side with an iPad in her hands. Face screwed in concentration, she looked through the list of the venues that would work for the screening.
Since Frank had finally expressed an interest in possibly doing an interview for Dreamcatchers, she wanted to be part of the decision-making process. I didn’t press for more yet, because Frank’s mind was preoccupied with the upcoming collaboration with Isabella, but my gut told me he was almost ready. I just needed to give him some space. Let him come to us on his own terms. Without pressure.
As we discussed right before Christmas, he’d started talking to a counselor. His mood had improved greatly in the last couple of weeks, and I hadn’t seen him touching or looking at alcohol, which was a good sign. The only thing we still disagreed on was the lawsuit.
Frank refused to let it go.
“Half of these are union.” Brooklyn’s voice drew my attention back to the meeting. “I wouldn’t even bother.” She shook her head, her gaze jumping between me and Frank.
I willed my mind to concentrate on the present. “This is a nonprofit project, so I don’t see why it matters.”
“You’ll be jumping through hoops for months,” she countered in a snappy tone. “I’m just trying to save you some time.”
“And I appreciate it.” Smiling, I freed my hand from Frank’s grasp. I didn’t need his protection when people in his entourage opposed me. Levi and I had already been jumping through legal hoops for a while since we’d had to set up a corporation to produce the film. More red tape made no difference anymore. That was one of the reasons why I’d taken a step back from Rewired—to ensure we had all the bases covered.
Linda came to the rescue. “When are you looking to record the single?” she questioned Frank, making more notes. Her fingers tippy-tapped against the keyboard of her Mac. Dressed in a suit and with her hair styled to perfection, she was the definition of impeccable. Sometimes I wondered if the woman slept at all. Sometimes I wondered if she was even human. With a mile-long roster of celebrity clients she handled publicity for, Frank was probably the nicest. Despite all the luxury he enjoyed surrounding himself with, he was a simple man. Roman and Hannah loved him. I saw it in the way they spoke about him when he wasn’t near. Even slimy douche Corey adored Frank.
And I adored being his girlfriend. He was like sunshine, even in his darkest moments, and everyone clung to him, hoping to get a bit of his warmth.
“In the next month or two,” he said. I heard a lick of excitement in Frank’s voice. For the first time since the accident, he sounded like himself. “We’re trying to get Gary Torino on board.”
“Really?” Linda gazed at me, looking for confirmation.
I nodded.
Gary Torino was best of the best, an industry veteran who’d produced over two hundred albums. Three quarters were platinum. Half of them sat at the very top of the Billboard chart.
Frank wanted to go all out with “Afterburn.”
“I haven’t heard it yet, and I’m already impressed.” Linda typed up some more notes.
“It’s still pretty rough,” Frank explained. He’d only attended one rehearsal, but now that he was finally on the way to recovery, three more sessions were lined up for the next couple of weeks.
“Can you guarantee Billboard?” Brooklyn barked from her spot.
I could almost taste her annoyance. It plagued the air like the smell of rotting leftovers.
Linda flashed a cunning smile and the spark in her eyes told me she was going to make it happen. Despite the fact that there were no guarantees in this business. Never. “We can probably try for a Grammy nomination as well.”
“I like that!” Frank beamed. It was a magazine cover-worthy grin. I hadn’t seen him this fired up in
