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“How do you know that he’s changed?”
“I don’t.” I take a long sip of the wine. “I don’tknowbut I can see that things are different with him. I want to believe that everything is different. I want to move on through the shit that we went through and see if there’s something better waiting for us.”
“I’m going to support you no matter what you do. I just don’t want you to be blind to his faults.”
“If there’s one person’s faults that I’m well aware of, it’s his. We’re only going to fail if I keep doubting him, though. I have to believe that things are going to work out for the best.”
Paige clinks her glass against mine before taking a sip. “I’m sure that everything is going to work out for the best and the two of you will be happy together.”
I lean forward and grab the remote, turning on the television and scrolling through the selection of shows. “What will it be tonight? A hot man with a sword and a kilt? Or are we going with more of a Southern gentleman vampire tonight?”
Paige snatches the blanket from the back of the couch and drapes it over her lap. “Man with the sword and kilt for me.”
I select the show and get comfortable as it starts to play. My mind wanders as I watch the man charge across the screen and slice down his enemies.
Even though I have my doubts about Tyler, I do think he’s changed. It’s time to set those doubts to the side and embrace what’s happening between us fully.
The sun is shining bright Saturday morning as I make my way up Ben’s driveway and back to the studio. Tyler’s car is here but Matt’s is still missing. He should be here soon, but mornings have always been difficult for him. Back when we were touring, getting him up and trying to get him on the bus to go to a new city was hell.
As I enter the studio, all the tension from a night spent on the couch eases from my body. After one too many bottles of wine, Paige and I fell asleep on the couch.
“Where’s Ben?” I ask as I glance around the room.
Tyler leans back into the couch cushions and links his hands behind his head. His guitar is sitting on the couch beside him as I drop my bag to the table just inside the entryway.
“He’s taking the day off. It’s just going to be the two of us in rehearsal.” He jerks his chin in the direction of the couch across from him. “Get ready. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“What are you talking about?” I sit cross-legged on the couch as he reaches for a notebook and pen on the coffee table and tosses them to me.
“You’re going to write a song with me. The guys and I talked. Even though Tony thinks we should be doing something else, we thought it would be a good idea to have a new song to debut at the hometown show.”
My stomach plummets to my feet as I look at the notebook. “Who would own the rights to the song? The masters?”
When I was kicked out of the band, White Hot owned all the rights to the songs that I wrote with Tyler. The only money I saw was from the severance package. Everything that I had worked so hard on was gone.
I had to listen to the songs I wrote on the radio. I saw my lyrics splashed all over social media. Gilded Cage used the songs I wrote to climb to fame and then once they were about to start a European tour, they dropped me. They used the songs I wrote on that tour and secured themselves as one of the bands of the decade.
They were in magazines. They hit the kinds of lists that make or break a musician.
Not a single cent of anything that came from those songs made its way to me after I was kicked out of the band.
Tyler shrugs. “I was thinking that you would own them. At least, that’s the contract I bullied Tony into arranging. Whatever you produce with the band will be yours and yours alone. If we want to perform it after the hometown show, we have to pay you a hefty sum of money.”
My mouth drops open. He says it so casually, like it isn’t the kind of deal that a songwriter dreams of. An ache starts in my chest and the corners of my vision blur.
“You’re serious?” I ask, my voice wavering slightly. “This isn’t a joke? I’m going to get the rights to the song and the masters? Just me?”
Tyler nods, a slow smile stretching across his face. “Yes. Tony felt bad about the way that everything went down. Even if he doesn’t show it often. It was easy enough to leverage his guiltand the threat of setting an amp on fire at the next show to get him to go negotiate.”
“You threatened to set an amp on fire?”
He smirks. “In the grand scheme of things, one song performed at a live show is a lot cheaper for them than an amp.”
“Holy shit.” I grab the notebook and open it up to a new page. “You’re serious. We’re going to write a new song and I’m not going to get screwed over.”
“No, you’re not.” Tyler gets up and comes to sit beside me with his guitar. “We fucked up last time, Cassie. If giving up the rights to one song is enough to keep me from setting the stage on fire, White Hot is going to agree to it.”
“You wouldn’t actually set the stage on fire, would you?”
