It Had To Be You

by Francis Ray

  Laurel sneered. He’d asked her to call him Zach. She wasn’t aware of making any noise, but Zach turned. For once she couldn’t read his face. He was as closed to her as Rio.

  “Oh, Ms. Raineau. Good morning,” the woman said, her hand pressed to her chest. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you. R.—Zach said you would be here shortly.”

  Laurel was thrown off balance by the woman’s friendly greeting. Her gaze went from the woman to Zach.

  “Ms. Raineau, this is Evelyn Holliday. She’s the owner of Holliday Art Gallery and Gift Shop. Ms. Holliday was kind enough to assist me this morning,” Zach said.

  With the woman still smiling at her, it couldn’t have been the way Laurel thought. She extended her hand. “Good morning, Ms. Holliday.”

  The attractive woman clasped both of her hands around Laurel’s, looked at Zach, and then back at her. “I can’t believe this. Meeting two of the people on my list in one day.” She laughed at Laurel’s frown and released her hand. “Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always made a list of the people I wanted to meet.”

  “It must be an unusual list,” Laurel said. Then she saw Zach frown and realized she had spoken aloud. She flushed. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”

  Her face open and friendly, the gallery owner laughed and waved the words aside. “No worry. And you’re right. It is an unusual list. Makes life interesting. I have a broad range of interests. Owning a business, you meet lots of unusual and wonderful people. I love your music. I was glad to be able to assist Zach.”

  Laurel’s puzzled gaze went to Zach.

  “Thank you again, Ms. Holliday,” Zach said, taking the woman’s arm. “I appreciate you coming over.”

  “My pleasure.” She laughed. “It helped that you’re going to help me scratch several other people off my list. You have absolutely made my day. Heck. My year.”

  “You helped me as well,” Zach said.

  “I’ll get out of here and let you get to work.” She turned to Laurel again. “It was a pleasure. I know the album is going to be a smash hit, and when I listen to it, I’ll remember meeting you. Good-bye.”

  “Good-bye,” Laurel said. Still puzzled, she watched Zach walk the woman to the door. They talked a few moments, and then he turned to her.

  Silence stretched out as his gaze caressed her. The second her nipples tingled, pushed against the lacy black bra, she realized she had miscalculated. She might be angry with Zach, but her body still wanted him.

  She turned away and placed her violin case on the table. “Where is the other technician?”

  “Jesse will be here this afternoon. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” Picking up her violin, she started for the isolation booth. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Zach take a seat in front of the control panel. He hadn’t asked one question about her eating. Apparently his mind was occupied with something else.

  Opening the door, she walked behind the mike, turned, and went still. She couldn’t believe it. On the wall on either side of the glass partition were twelve-foot tapestries of the Metropolitan Opera House. However, instead of the painting showing the stage, it looked from the stage onto the vast audience.

  Laurel understood making lists. Carnegie Hall and the Met was on hers, just below the Teatro La Fenice—the opera house in Venice. She’d had one of her best performances at the Met just before she’d left on her European tour.

  Her gaze turned to Zach. He watched her.

  “Your connection to an audience is fantastic. Look at them. Play for them.”

  He understood her in so many ways. Perhaps—She left the thought unfinished. She couldn’t let down her guard or be swayed by his thoughtfulness. He didn’t care about her. He cared about the album. She was just a means to an end. He just wanted to add classical music to his résumé.

  She lifted the violin and began to play, then closed her eyes as she missed a note in the Brahms Concerto.

  Nine

  It hadn’t worked.

  Zach stayed in the recording studio long after he’d sent Laurel home more than two hours before. He’d called Jesse and told him to be on standby for tomorrow. Zach had wanted to give Laurel the opportunity to lay into him if she wanted for being so overbearing with her, for ordering her staff around. He’d hoped in doing so they’d finally start talking.

  Although he’d been ridiculously happy to see her jealous of the gallery owner, it had deepened the wedge between them. She’d looked so fragile. He’d wanted to hold her so badly, he’d trembled. Instead he’d gone to the controls, hoping the mural would do what he hadn’t been able to: soothe the ache and steady her.

  It hadn’t. He hit the PLAY button, looked at the editing screen, and closed his eyes on hearing the screech of the violin, the misery in every note she played. He was making things worse. Opening his eyes, he shut down the control panel and the computer.

  He’d see what happened tomorrow. Peterson had texted him fifteen minutes ago, wanting to know how things were going. Zach had no intention of answering the record exec. He was giving Laurel as much time as she needed. He just hoped it was enough.

  Hands in his pockets, he left the control room and started outside. Opening the door, he paused on seeing Lee Wilson standing across the street. The anger he’d expected to feel wasn’t there. Zach’s lies, not Lee, had caused the rift between him and Laurel.

  Letting the door close, he started for his Porsche parked at the curb. Lee dodged a couple of cars and crossed in the middle of the street. As he neared, Zach saw that his eyes looked almost wild. He might be egotistical, but Zach had never heard that he used drugs.

  “Man, you gotta help me.” Wilson clutched Zach’s jacket with both hands.

  Out of the corner of an eye, Zach saw the security guard for the building straighten. Zach held up his hand. The last thing he wanted was an altercation with Wilson. The media would have a field day. It wouldn’t help Laurel think better of him and might make Lee blab about Laurel being with Zach in Mexico. “Take your hands off me.”

  Lee blinked, almost as if he hadn’t known he’d grabbed Zack. He released him immediately and stepped back. “Sure. Sure. I didn’t mean anything.” He licked his lips. “You gotta tell whoever has everyone spooked that the trip to Mexico never happened. I never saw anyone.”

  Rio. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Man, I’m begging. My record company wants to drop me. I can’t get into any of the clubs I used to. Even where I bought all of my threads they want cash instead of a credit card. I went to Chauncy’s party last night and was asked to leave. My bodyguards left the city.” He swallowed. “Tell whoever is doing this that I don’t remember anything.”

  Zach almost felt sorry for the man. Chauncy was a protégé of Lee’s. A couple of weeks back they were inseparable. Lee had learned that he wasn’t as untouchable or as bad as he’d believed. There was always someone more powerful. “I’ll tell them, but it might be better if you made yourself scarce for a month or so.”

  “I—” Lee swallowed and nodded. “Anything you say. You’ll tell them. All right?”

  “I’ll tell them.” Zach got inside his car and watched Lee hurry to his specially built Hummer then climb inside. He was driving himself. The Hummer wasn’t filled with men, a woman or two, and blasting loud music. Laurel’s reputation was safe, but she was dealing with so much more.

  I can’t take it another day.

  Laurel sat on the bench in the garden of her house and stared at nothing. She’d played worse instead of better today. Her thoughts about Zach were so jumbled and conflicted. She’d been jealous when she saw him with the gallery owner.

  But it had been obvious later that they weren’t interested in each other. The woman was there to help Laurel. And although at the time she had been sure Zach’s reason was self-serving, as the day wore on she saw the strain on his face that deepened with each wrong note she played.

  It scared her how much she wanted to belie
ve he really cared. She could feel herself weakening.

  He’d looked so tired when he’d told her to call it a day and try tomorrow. She hadn’t argued. But she was well aware that she wouldn’t play any better tomorrow.

  Standing, she went back inside and straight to the phone to call her agent. “Alice, please. Laurel Raineau calling,” she said to her agent’s assistant.

  “Hi, Laurel. How is the recording going?” her agent asked seconds later.

  “It’s not,” Laurel said frankly. “And it isn’t going to get any better.”

  “It’s only been a cou—”

  “I want you to contact a lawyer to buy back my contract.”

  “What!” Alice shouted.

  Laurel took a deep, steadying breath. “I’ll sell everything I own if I have to, but I want out.”

  “Laurel, you can’t. I mean Peterson isn’t going to roll over on this,” Alice said, a bit frantic. “He’s already planning a big announcement about you working with R.D.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” Laurel asked.

  “I knew how you’d react,” the agent defended. “Be sensible. This could ruin your career.”

  Laurel fought the fear trying to consume her. Alice wasn’t being overly dramatic. Some of the top music stars had been caught up in legal battles for years over trying to purchase back their music contracts. A legal battle could drain her financially and emotionally. “Do it.”

  “I certainly hope you know what you’re doing,” Alice said.

  “Good-bye.” Laurel hung up the phone. “I hope so, too.”

  “Laurel Raineau wants to buy back her contract,” Peterson said as he entered Zach’s home office. There was no effusive smile this time. “I never thought she’d be this stiff-necked.”

  Zach had pushed and lost, but he’d fight to lessen the fallout for her. “Why don’t you give her an extension and, when she’s ready, we’ll do the album. We both know that album dates are pushed back all the time.”

  Peterson shook his graying head. “Her lawyer was very specific. She wants completely out. Now.”

  Zach didn’t like the hard look on Peterson’s face. “Then let her go. It’s obvious that she doesn’t want to work with me. You play nice and in a couple of weeks contact her agent. Laurel will remember you didn’t hassle her and you can sign her back.”

  “It’s not that easy.” He plopped down in a leather easy chair in front of Zach’s desk. “You can’t set a precedent in this business and you know it. You try to be nice to one and everyone expects the same treatment. Your ass gets dragged into court for discrimination or vilified in the press.”

  True. “Then keep it quiet.”

  Peterson momentarily tucked his head. “Can’t. We’ve already signed two recording artists and promised them you’d produce their albums. Laurel’s was the first. If she backs out, news will get around.”

  “So tell them we had to reschedule because I had a prior obligation,” Zach said. “Put the blame on me.”

  “She’s one of our biggest and most prestigious clients. She’s one of the few who has played for the president, for sitting kings, queens, and dignitaries all over the world.” He massaged his forehead. “There is no way we can keep a lid on this.”

  The disbelief in Peterson’s demeanor was clear. He didn’t want to lose Laurel.

  “If you fight her, she’ll never sign with you again,” Zach told him frankly. And it would shatter her.

  “It’s the only way.” Peterson’s features hardened. “She owes Arial an album and she’s going to give it to us or we’ll tie her up in court for years.”

  “What if you had another contract?” Zach asked, not even having to think about what he was about to do.

  “What do you mean?”

  “An exclusive one with me to produce only Arial artists for two years?”

  Peterson’s eyes bugged. His mouth gaped as he came to his feet.

  “On one condition. That you release Laurel Raineau from her contact at a fair price.”

  “An exclusive with Arial,” Peterson repeated, his expression ecstatic.

  “Contingent on you releasing Ms. Raineau and she’s happy with the deal,” Zachary told him. Laurel’s happiness was all that mattered now.

  “I’ll contact our lawyers right away.” Peterson stuck out his hand. “Welcome to Arial.”

  “Only if Laurel is happy with the conditions for releasing her from her contract. She’s not to know about my involvement, either. Otherwise, the deal is off.” Laurel wouldn’t want him involved, and he couldn’t blame her.

  “Anything you say,” Peterson agreed, his hand still extended.

  Zach shook the man’s hand. “I think you should deliver the good news personally.”

  “Certainly. Certainly.” Smiling broadly, Peterson practically danced from the room.

  Zach watched him go. “Be happy, Laurel. Just be happy.”

  Taking a deep breath, he went to his desk to call Laurel. There was no sense in her going through the strain of coming to the studio. In a couple of days at the most, he’d be out of her life forever. Just the thought sent a stab of pain through his chest.

  Well aware that it would be the last time he’d call her, he slowly dialed her number. And when she answered, it would be the last time he’d talk to her.

  “Hello.”

  His hand flexed on the phone. Yearning mixed with regret swept through at the sound of her voice. Instead of the happiness he’d first heard, there was an unmistakable sadness. His fault.

  “Hi, Laurel. It’s Zach. Rehearsals have been canceled for the next couple of days. Something has come up.”

  Silence seemed to go on forever, then, “Good-bye.”

  His eyes shut. “Good-bye, honey,” he said to the droning of the phone, and then dialed Paige. He might as well get all of the bad conversations over with.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, Sunshine,” Zach said, walking to the window to look out. The day was beautiful, the skies blue. He thought of the times he and Laurel had played and made love on the beach.

  “Things aren’t going well,” Paige said.

  “No.” He blew out a breath.

  “I’m sorry. I was hoping you could get her to listen to you.”

  “I was, too, but that’s not going to happen.”

  “Perhaps she just needs more time,” Paige offered.

  “Time has run out for us. You can tell Shane and Rio I’ll be looking for them. Good-bye.” Zach hung up the phone, walked to the stereo system in his office, and turned it on. The pure haunting notes of Laurel playing her violin filled the room.

  Head bowed, hands in his pockets, Zachary listened, hoping one day her music would fill the empty place in his heart.

  Zach stood on the terrace late the next day with a bourbon and Coke in his hand. He took a sip, remembering Laurel’s reaction when he’d called her the day before. He’d thought of little else. Her Good-bye meant she had already relegated him to her past.

  Peterson’s secretary had called that morning to let Zach know that Laurel’s attorney was out of town, but planned to return tomorrow. They already had an appointment scheduled. Laurel would have her freedom by tomorrow night. Peterson planned to tell her personally.

  His hand clenched around the glass. He wished he could see Laurel one last time, but it would upset her and solve nothing. He’d have to live with the ill-fated decision he’d made, and pray that Laurel could get on with her life. He wasn’t sure he could.

  Zach heard a sound behind him and looked over his shoulder to see his mother. He wasn’t really surprised. From the hesitant expression on her face he reasoned that Paige had called her. Unlike his father, his mother openly loved her children. Before the debacle he’d created, she would have been across the room with her arms around him by now.

  He wanted to hang his head in shame. She’d always been so proud of him. He sat the glass on the table and slowly went to her. “I know you’re disappointed in me. I h
ave no excuse.”

  She cupped his cheek with a hand that trembled. “Zach, I could never be disappointed in you. I love you. Sometimes we make decisions that have far-reaching consequences. I know that better than anyone.”

  He wanted to feel relief at her words, but there was something in her face, a hesitation that bothered him. “What is it?”

  She swallowed. “I have something to tell you. It’s something very important. I should have told you long ago.”

  Fear whipped though him. “You’re all right, aren’t you? You aren’t sick?” he questioned, his entire body shaking with apprehension.

  “No, sweetheart.” Her hand fell, and she bit her lower lip. “It just that I never could find the right words to explain so you’d understand. With what you’re going through, I think you might identify with how things don’t always turn out the way we want.”

  “What is it, Mother?”

  “I love you, you know that, don’t you?”

  He caught her trembling hand. “Mother, you’re scaring me.”

  She glanced behind her. “Trent.”

  Zach looked up to see a broad-shouldered, brown-skinned handsome man step into the doorway. He was casually dressed in slacks and a long-sleeved white shirt. He didn’t speak, just stared at him. Zach’s questioning gaze went back to his mother.

  “Zach, meet your brother, Trent.”

  Disbelief, then rage shot through him. “How could Fat—”

  She put her fingertips on his lips. He felt her shudder. “Not your father. Trent is my son.”

  Zach’s gaze snapped back up to the silent man who had stepped closer. His eyes were hard until they rested on his mother. “No. That can’t be.”

  “I—” his mother began, then faltered.

  “This isn’t easy for her. Maybe she should sit down.”

  Zach wanted to tell the man to get the eff out of his house, but one glance at his mother’s pale face and he knew the man was right. “Come on, Mother, sit down. There’s water on the serving cart to your left.”

  Zach helped his mother to a seat on one of the settees on the terrace. By the time she was seated, Trent was there with a glass of water.