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“There’s no reason to believe he won’t try something again.”
“That’s why I’m leaving Dylan here while I meet with agents. I know he’ll be safe with you.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so determined to get back to work. You’re more than welcome to stay here as long as you want.”
“That’s generous of you, but I really need to move forward with my life.” And if it wasn’t going to be with Trent, then she needed to put some distance between them as soon as possible. “And speaking of Melody, have you spoken with her about what’s going on between her and Kyle?”
“She said they’re having a little trouble.” He ran his hand through his hair and his mouth tensed. “She warned me to leave things alone and mind my business.”
“She’s right. Melody’s a big girl. She doesn’t need her brother messing in her love life.”
“So what am I supposed to do? Sit by and let her be miserable?”
“Why don’t you focus on what we’re going to do about West Coast Records and let Melody sort out her own problems? If she wants you to step in, she’ll say so.”
“Fine. I found a guy who can take over running the company. I’ll text you his number so you can meet with him while you’re in LA. I think you’ll like him.”
“That’s wonderful. I’ll look forward to talking with him. And if I want to hire him, do you have a plan for how to get him past Siggy and Gerry?”
“If things go the way I think they will, you won’t have to.”
Savannah shook her head. “Will it do me any good to ask you what you have planned?”
“Grab dinner with him at Cuts Beverly Hills.”
“So your father will get wind of the meeting?”
“Exactly. The restaurant’s practically in his backyard, and he’s sure to hear if you show up.”
“And then what? We sit around and wait?”
“If I know my father, we won’t have to wait for long.”
* * *
Pushing a stroller that contained his sleepy nephew, Trent sauntered into the recording studio of Nate Tucker’s indie label, Ugly Trout Records. Since Savannah had left for LA this morning, Trent had been feeling edgy and out of sorts. While he knew it was important to her that she get back to work, he couldn’t help but feel as if it was a huge mistake for her to think about returning to LA. After what had happened the week before, he’d assumed she would hide out in Las Vegas with him at least until they figured out how to handle Siggy. Trent’s intention was to untangle Savannah from his father’s company. Today, he was going to present to Nate an idea for how to go about that.
The receptionist directed Trent to studio B, where Melody and Nate were doing some recording for her album. When Trent entered the studio’s production booth, Nate’s gaze flicked over his two visitors before returning to Melody.
Trent leaned against the wall and listened to his sister. Accompanied by a guy in a knit cap playing the guitar, she sat at an electric piano, her strong, pure voice pouring out a song of heartbreaking angst. The uncomplicated arrangement allowed her songwriting to shine. Trent felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck at the emotion resonating through the lyrics. What was going on with his baby sister?
As she finished the song, Nate blew out a breath and rocked back in his chair. “She sounds amazing. This album is going to be a knockout.”
A little dazed, Trent nodded. “It sure sounds like it.”
Although Trent had seen his sister perform in several large venues, he continued to be amazed at her talent. Unlike Trent, who’d dabbled a bit here and there, Melody had embraced her musical side. As soon as she could pick up a violin, she’d started taking lessons. At eight, she’d taught herself how to play the piano and had begun composing silly little songs that her friends sang all the time, driving her two older brothers mad.
All this had ended one day when she was ten. Melody had written her first serious piece, and Trent had suggested that she record it. What was the point of having access to your very own recording studio and not using it? Trent had set up a one-hour session as a surprise for her, suspecting that if he told her in advance she’d never go through with it.
As it was, encouraged by Trent’s confidence in her, she’d reluctantly agreed to record her song. She’d been struggling with the start of it when their father walked in. Or perhaps stormed in was a better description. Siggy had been furious at what Trent had done. He didn’t want the expensive studio time wasted on his daughter. Melody had been so upset she never finished recording the song and stopped singing altogether.
From that point forward, she concentrated solely on her violin and piano, in her own way trying to please her father, just as Rafe did. Trent had gone the complete opposite direction, aggravating his father at every turn.
“Nate,” Melody said from the booth, “can you play the song back so I can hear it?”
“Sure.” Nate cued the song before turning to Trent. “She’s such a perfectionist. I think she’s recorded fifty songs.”
“And I’m sure each one is better than the last. She just doesn’t think she’s any good. We have our father to thank for that.”
