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“I doubt I’d need security to deal with you, old man.”
Billy shrugged. “Better men than you have tried, kid. So we can stand here having a pissing contest or you can let me in and I’ll tell you why I’m here.”
He reached for the handle of the screen door, which was locked. It rattled as Billy tugged at it.
Zach made no move to unlock it. “You have something to say to me? Say it from there.”
One side of Billy’s mouth curled up. “You really are just like your dad, aren’t you? Arrogant little shit. All right. But you’re going to let me in.”
“Why?”
Billy held up a piece of paper that looked like it had been torn from a notebook. It was folded in half, nothing to be seen but the pale blue lines on the white paper. “Because of this.”
“You trying to give me your phone number, Billy?” Zach said. “Don’t bother. I’ve got your number now.”
“Yeah but do you have Davis Lewis’s?” Billy said.
Zach’s eyes dropped back down to the piece of paper, he couldn’t help it. Davis Lewis? What the hell was Billy doing with Davis’s number?
“Got your attention, did I?” Billy said. “So. Let me in and we’ll talk.”
Zach had never wanted to tell someone to go screw himself quite badly. But over the desire to kick Billy to the curb, Jay’s voice floated through his head. You need something flashy. Something to get attention. Like the most famous producer in the world.
He reached down and unlocked the door. “Come on in,” he said and turned and walked back to the kitchen without stopping to see if Billy was following him. He still didn’t look when he reached the fridge, pulled it open, extracted a beer, and twisted the top off.
When he turned back, the chilled bottle too cold in his tightly clenched hand, Billy stood on the other side of the counter. “So talk,” Zach said, and took a swig of the beer.
“Start drinking at this time of day and you’re going to end up more like your old man than you might want,” Billy said.
Zach raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, well, coming from you that’s pretty much the pot calling the fucking kettle black, so let’s skip the part where you try to give me life advice like you care.”
“Look, Zach, I realize you don’t like what I did.” Billy’s mouth flattened. “Hell, I’m not sure I like it myself.”
“Then give me back the fucking slot.”
“No can do. I told you. I need that slot. But I feel bad. And I know you want to make a splash, so I’m giving you this.” Billy held out the piece of paper.
“Why do I want Davis Lewis’s number?”
Dark eyes rolled at him. “Everybody wants that number.”
“What makes you think I don’t already have it?” Zach asked. He took another sip of beer. The sour taste didn’t do much to mask the sour feeling in his stomach.
“Maybe you do. But if you used it, he turned you down. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here recording with Eli and Leah, would you now?” Billy’s voice was matter of fact.
Zach kept his face still with an effort. He wasn’t going to give Billy the satisfaction of seeing that he’d scored a hit. “Eli and Leah are doing an amazing job,” he said coldly.
Billy shrugged. “I’m sure they’re good. But they can’t get you the same sort of buzz Davis will. He hasn’t worked with anyone new in quite some time. Doing your album with him will get you all the attention you need. Much more than just doing CloudFest would. There isn’t a record company on the planet who doesn’t want the next act anointed by Davis.” He put the paper down on the counter, pushed it toward Zach. “Take that. Make the call. He’ll take it.”
“Him taking the call isn’t the same as him agreeing to work with me.”
“I talked to him. I played him one of your tracks. You won’t have a problem.”
“How the hell did you get one of my tracks?” Zach growled.
“Eli was working on your stuff on the house system,” Billy said. “It wasn’t hard to find.”
Apparently Zach was going to have to have a word with Eli about appropriate security measures. But that could wait. First he had to get his head around what Billy was offering him. “So you think I should just ditch Eli and Leah and go work with Davis?”
