Write or Wrong (Common Threads #9)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

STOP MAKING THIS HURT

ZARA

Two days later she sat down at a small table in a coffee house in SoHo across from Nash Ellis. Devan and Gregor sat at the table closest to them, Cas at another table nearby.

She’d asked Nash for a meeting, because she still hadn’t decided what to do.

Nash Ellis was a rock star.

That was an oversimplification but it painted an accurate picture. He was only a couple years older than Zara and had been in the industry about the same amount of time. His experience had been vastly different from hers. They’d met through mutual friends a couple years ago and since then had struck up an easy friendship. She got along well with his girlfriend Paige and would often run her ideas by Nash if something felt weird. He had the survival instincts of a snow leopard and she trusted his intuition.

She’d woken up that morning, after another terrible night of sleep, with one resounding thought pounding against her temples: she was done playing the game.

She’d been fine with certain tactics and schemes throughout her career. As long as it didn’t hurt anyone, she usually signed off on it. But bit by bit, it had taken little chunks out of her. She was the one it had hurt.

And she was done.

Two full days of a media onslaught orchestrated by Logan and his people had her feeling overly exposed and misjudged by everyone. From radio DJs, to her fans, to strangers on the internet, suddenly they all had an opinion.

One of the national morning shows had even had a segment devoted to dissecting her. They’d called it “Zara Lorna: Diva Behavior?” People Zara had never met weighed in on her character and her integrity.

“I don’t think that she even sings her own songs. I heard she has one of her friends do it. Let’s give credit to the real artists and stop popularizing phonies.”

“She’s incredibly calculated. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”

“I’ve never bought the sweet Jersey girl next door persona. I’ve always thought she was annoying.”

“She’s just another diva.”

“It was apparent after her tirade at the NMAs that her ego has gone unchecked for too long. Remember when Ashton James lost it? Not everyone is mentally equipped to handle the pressure of being famous. She just cracked.”

And she was suddenly very over it.

It was a startling thought. She was the kind of person who thought things through, was often accused of scheming when she was just being thorough. She could count on one hand how many times her brain had just decided, with very little to no deliberation. Just a very definitive decision.

It had happened when she was sixteen and had her first single on the radio and her mom had reached out. Because “suddenly” she wanted a relationship with her daughter.

Zara knew at once that she wasn’t going to entertain that heartache.

It had happened again when she’d met Nikki. They shared a moment in the studio and Zara’s heart went, “This is the human who will tell your story the way you want it told.” It was immediate and she didn’t doubt it. Those impulses had never, not once, steered her wrong.

It had happened that night at the afterparty when Asa had taken her hand and said, “I got you.” She hadn’t even had to think about it. She’d just known.

So, when she’d woken up with the very loud and repeating thought of, “I’m done with the game,” she was alarmed.

She needed to talk to someone who had done both.

Hannah Lee, aka Ashton James, came to mind.

She’d managed to be at the top, leave, and quietly come back to their industry on her own terms.

But they weren’t close. Had only met in passing.

Then there was her friend Nash Ellis.

He’d been up and down and in between. He’d also experienced the worst the internet and industry had to offer.

He hadn’t said much since they’d sat down.

His brilliant blue eyes watched her and he listened to every one of her fears and ideas spill out. And spill she did. Like an oil tanker on the highway—messy, messy, not enough Dawn dish soap in the world to help kind of mess.

Finally, she took a breath and sat back. “What would you do?” she asked.

He arched one, pierced eyebrow. “I think you know what I would do.” He leaned forward on his elbows and pinned her with a look. “The question is what would you do?”

She frowned. If she knew what she should do, she wouldn’t be asking him.

But he wasn’t done.

“Who do you want to be? At your core? If the people who love your music could see into your heart, what message do you want them to take away?”

She sucked in a breath as his words hit her.

Oh shit.

She hadn’t thought about it like that.

“I want them to know they’re worthy of love and they don’t have to be what other people tell them to be.”

“And how are they gonna know that?” he asked.

She touched her lips and her gaze drifted away. “By living it,” she whispered.

He sat back and took a sip of his coffee.

She shook her head at his knowing smirk. “You’re an ass.”

“Yes. But a brilliant ass.”

“You are kind of brilliant,” she admitted.

“So,” he folded his arms on the table. “What would you do if you had no one telling you what to do? No schedules, no albums ready to drop, no paparazzi following you.” He waved to the photographer taking a picture of them in the window.

“I’d spend time with my friends. Learn something new. Sleep. Eat.” Her voice turned wistful as she indulged the daydream. “I want to bake cookies and learn how to make an omelet. I want to take my dad to Florence because he hasn’t been back since he was a kid.”

She refocused on Nash and sighed. “But all of that is impossible.”

He squinted an eye at her. “Is it?”

She squinted right back. “It could be career suicide.”

He nodded. “Maybe.” He shrugged. “Or it could be the best thing you’ve ever done.”

“I came to you because I needed advice, not because I was looking for a cryptic puzzle to solve.”

“Zara,” he said, black eyebrows lifted and all amusement gone. “I can’t tell you what to do. That’s the exact thing you’re upset about. You have to be the captain of your own destiny. If you’re happy with the status quo, then don’t change anything. Release the single, do the interviews, play the game. You’ll win. Guaranteed. You’re too good not to win. It’s not even a risk anymore.” He tilted his head to the side. “But maybe risk is what you’re missing.”

Hours later she was back at home, staring up at the stars on her ceiling as her mind spun with everything she was supposed to decide.

Her phone rang and she looked at the screen.

Kenna. This would probably be awesome. Not.

“Yeah?” she asked, wondering what she’d done now.

“Pictures of you and Nash Ellis are everywhere. Business or pleasure?” Kenna asked.

“Business,” Zara ground out.

“I will alert the masses,” Kenna said and hung up.

Zara threw her phone across the room, rolled over and screamed into her pillow.

Her phone rang again from the corner and she growled.

What now? She got off the bed and stomped over to answer it kind of surprised it hadn’t broken when she’d thrown it. She really wished she’d taken the time to look at the call screen.

“Who am I dating now?” she asked.

“Hey, babe.”

Fucking. Logan.

She went to hang up but he was still speaking and her mind snagged on his words.

“Wait,” she stopped him. “What did you just say?”

“I was asking if you wanted to record the remix together or just use your vocals as they are and I’ll do mine separate.”

The room tilted and her stomach cramped.

“What remix? What are you talking about?” she asked, voice hollow, because she knew. She fucking knew.

“‘The Under/Over’, the single dropping in ten days. The label said they wanted to release a response remix with me for the second version a week after the single releases.” He drew out the words like she was a child who needed something simple explained to them. Irritation ran down her spine and she ground her teeth together. “I already have it written. Do you want to hear it?”

“What?” she clipped, trying to understand what he was saying.

He repeated his words but that’s not what she was having trouble with. They had gone ahead and made the decision without her?

Why would they do that?

Also, no. She wasn’t going to share writing credits with this twatwaffle on a song she’d written for herself and not him .

“Disrespectfully, Logan, go fuck yourself,” she said and hung up the phone.

She immediately dialed Gregor.

“They sent it through five minutes ago,” Gregor said tightly. “I was just calling you.”

“So, they told everyone else and me last?” Zara asked even though the answer was obvious.

“What would you like me to do?” Gregor asked, voice low and controlled.

“Team meeting. Everyone. Here. In the morning.” She could hardly get the words out without wanting to shout them. Her stomach churned and she took a deep breath.

Gregor promised he’d take care of it and she hung up.

She stared sightlessly at the bedspread as she waited for her stomach to calm down.

Realizing it wasn’t going to be that easy, she went to the kitchen and made ginger tea.

ASA

He really needed to stop reading the news bites. They all said the same thing and he knew none of it was true.

But he clicked the link in his text that had come through from his stepmom. His fucking stepmom was sending him this shit.

What happened to Winking Pete?

Asa Young, the former rock star who’s been spotted with Zara Lorna multiple times in recent weeks, was once the bass player for a band with a shiny future. They canceled a tour in the middle of it without explanation. But rumors surfaced of drug use, jealousy, and backbiting amongst the members.

CELEBX reached out to Shelby Mallory, the band’s former lead singer and she had a lot to say about her former bass player.

“Asa has always been drawn to the most talented person in the room. He gets off on taking credit for other people’s ideas. He’s definitely using Zara to make himself relevant again.”

An interesting take, considering what’s being said about Zara Lorna this past week. Perhaps the old saying about “birds of a feather” is true in this case.

Zara Lorna’s camp declined to comment.

But the story wasn’t real. They had a sliver of a piece of something and had run in the completely wrong direction.

And now Shelby was back in the spotlight again. She had to be loving that.

After he’d seen Zara a few days before at Nikki’s, he’d considered sending her the music he’d made. He had almost talked himself into it.

And then additional shit had surfaced.

Now he was more worried about losing his job than what Zara thought of his shitty writing.

“Sorry, that took so long,” Johnny said, closing the door to Nikki’s office.

Asa closed the article and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

Johnny came around the desk and sat down. “It’s been crazy around here,” he said.

Asa clenched his jaw and nodded.

It had been crazy because of him.

One of the stipulations for working at XY Records was the utmost secrecy regarding one of the studio’s owners who was also Johnny’s fiancée.

Hannah Lee James, also known as Ashton James, had been one of the most paparazzi stalked celebrities in the world before she disappeared from the public eye.

She’d been living in Chicago for over a year in anonymity before Johnny’s little brother recognized her and opened a whole can of worms. Now three years later, she was part owner and production partner of the small studio.

But to keep the media out of her life, strict rules had been applied. She used aliases when she produced albums. Her security routinely went through the backgrounds of employees and anyone who came into the studio. Asa had had his entire life sifted through and dissected before he even filled out his W-2s.

But that was the gig.

Working for XY Records meant you were probably going to be exposed to the biggest names in the industry and no one would ever know.

Which Asa was perfectly fine with.

He was done chasing that fame monster.

But now that he’d been spotted with Zara and the press that had followed, he couldn’t help but think this meeting with Johnny was going to be his walking papers.

He ignored the tightness in his chest. Or tried to. But a slight buzz had begun in the back of his mind.

He hadn’t even wanted this job! He’d been doing just fine being a no-one. Not making music, not creating anything for anyone. Just playing someone else’s songs three times a week at the Blue Iguana. He had been. Just. Fine.

And then Nikki had asked him for a favor, saying it would be “good for him to get back into it.”

He should have said no.

“Look,” Asa started, clenching his sweaty hands into fists in his lap. “I know?—”

He was interrupted by a light knock on the door. It opened and Hannah stepped inside, closing it behind her.

Asa temporarily forgot what he had been about to say.

Hannah Lee James was quite possibly the most terrifyingly beautiful woman he had ever seen. Maybe in all of existence.

Her long dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She wore black jeans and a soft blue sweater that made her icy blue eyes even brighter.

She smiled at Asa and came around the desk as Johnny stood. She took his seat and he stood behind her, brushing her hair with his fingertips.

Shit.

He’d been worried about being fired?

Hannah was probably going to murder him.

She had a reputation for being able to verbally eviscerate a person.

He’d never experienced it, but he’d heard stories.

And the part that really sucked about his impending unemployment was that he actually loved his job. Sure, maybe all he did was write and mix jingles, but he got to work with people who loved the same things he did. Whose entire lives existed in a creative space. Even if he hadn’t been brave enough to flex his creative muscles beyond commercial jingles, he still enjoyed seeing others excel at it.

“Asa,” Hannah said, gentler than he expected.

He wiped his palms on the top of his jean clad thighs.

“You’re in a bit of a pickle,” she said.

“I’m really sorry,” he said.

Her striking blue eyes narrowed slightly. “Why? Have you been moonlighting as a writer for CELEBX?”

“No?” He cleared his throat. “No, of course not.”

A ghost of a smile graced her lips. “I have this…associate. He makes sure I stay invisible. I’ve asked him to look into what we can do for you.”

Asa struggled to swallow. “Okay…?

“You don’t own any property,” Johnny joined the conversation. “Your cell phone plan is routed through Nikki’s name which disappears in the XY Records business account. You still live at Nikki’s house, so you’re not on any leases. You had a Mazda you sold last year but it was registered at an address in southern Illinois. Nikki told me you ride a motorcycle now…?”

“It’s in my dad’s name,” he croaked. It was kind of creepy how much they knew about him. But those would all be public records; anyone could find them.

Ohhh. Anyone could find them.

“It’s common knowledge that you work for us. Except last year, Hannah’s associate created a satellite studio that doesn’t really exist in Miami. Last week we put your name on the employee roster there.”

Asa frowned. “So I’m being transferred to Miami?”

“No. Miami doesn’t exist. But that’s where they’ll look for you,” Johnny said.

“Al—er, my associate thought it would be a good idea to put your name on a condo lease down there as well.”

“I don’t understand,” Asa said.

“We hid you. From anyone looking, really. Now, unless you tell anyone, no one knows you live and work here in Chicago.”

“But what happens when they get to Miami and I’m not really there?” Asa asked, a vibration starting in his hands.

Hannah blinked at him. “Do you trust me?” she asked.

He opened his mouth and then closed it.

He barely knew her. She didn’t know him.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

“You’re a part of our team,” Johnny said like the answer was obvious. “And something like this was bound to happen to one of us anyway. It was easy to put this together because the provisions had been made long ago.”

“I’m a paranoid, high maintenance woman,” Hannah said matter of factly. “My backup plans have backup plans.”

“You’re not gonna fire me?” Asa asked, hearing the strain in his voice.

Hannah’s face softened. “No, Asa. We want you to stay.”

He exhaled with his entire body.

“We do need to know if there’s something…” Johnny searched for the right word. “Significant about your relationship with Zara Lorna.”

Asa’s stomach tightened again. So much for relaxing. His mind raced with all the ways he could answer that question.

Significant?

Maybe. But it was only on his side. And it was more like a professional crush than anything else. Still, he didn’t want to lie and then get caught. Though he had no idea how he’d get caught.

Being hyperaware of truth tended to make him overshare and over explain.

After a beat of silence, Hannah pursed her lips. “There’s no wrong answer, Asa. Zara attracts a certain amount of attention. So, if say, she starts making trips to Chicago to visit someone, we could prepare for that ahead of time. Get in front of it. Also, I can talk to her myself and make sure we’re all on the same page.”

This was just getting better and better, wasn’t it?

Asa’s head swam with possibilities. The last thing he wanted was to put even more on Zara’s plate.

“No. There’s nothing significant there,” he finally said. It was the truth, but his gut reacted like it was a lie.

He was way too into her.

He could see that clearly now.

“She’s good friends with Nikki. I was just in the right place at the right time and it got spun into something else. We don’t have contact otherwise.”

“Okay.” Hannah nodded. She sounded like she believed him, but there was a subtle shrewdness in her gaze that made him squirm.

He needed to make what he said the absolute truth.

Not just to save his own ass, but Zara’s as well.

Z: I hope you’re okay. I keep thinking about you. I know that probably doesn’t make sense. My publicist told me what’s been happening. I’m so sorry. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.

He had been staring at the text for an hour.

She was too sweet for her own good.

This was why people kept taking advantage of her. Because she honestly cared about others.

Thinking back to his first assumptions of her, he wanted to kick his own ass. She wasn’t spoiled or entitled. She was a very talented artist who worked hard and deserved to have that hard work recognized.

He wasn’t going to be one more person taking advantage of her goodness.

But it was easier said than done.

Which was why he’d spent an hour sitting on the back porch, in the growing cold, listening to the sounds of the city, and avoiding what he knew he needed to do.

His thumb hovered over the delete button on her text thread. He bit the inside of his cheek. He knew it was the right call, to sever all connections with her. He was only hesitating for selfish reasons.

He hit the button and watched the thread disappear from his phone.

He took a deep breath of cold air and found her contact information.

The night they hung out, sharing secrets and ideas and space flashed through his mind once more. Just because he deleted her contact information didn’t mean he deleted that moment. He’d be able to call it up whenever he needed something to make him smile.

Because no matter what the media reported or what rumors were shared, that was a moment that was all theirs. It had been real and he had been there.

He deleted her contact.

There.

It was done.

He dropped his phone in his lap and crossed his arms over his chest.

It was too cold. He should go back inside.