Linda said, “How much is this place?”
“About twenty thousand a month.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s got four bedrooms. Ava can have her own room, and we can set one up as a guest room for your mother. And they all have their own bathrooms.”
“It’s way too much money.”
“Don’t worry, we can handle it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep.”
“It is nice.”
Tracy walked over with Tommy, who was sleeping. “So, what do you think? It’s pretty incredible, isn’t it?”
Linda said, “We’ll have to talk it over.”
Cory said, “Why? I think it works perfectly for us.”
“I’m not rushing into anything. We need to think about this.”
Tracy said, “Why don’t you talk it over. We don’t leave for Frisco for another four days. If you decide you want it, I’ll get it done for you.”
* * *
Cory rolled the stroller in front of Lincoln Center. “For Christmas this year, we’re going to go to see The Nutcracker. You’re going to love it.”
Ava said, “Yay!”
Linda said, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I’ll be here. No way I’m going to be doing any shows around Christmas.”
“Daddy, can’t we come to California with you tomorrow?”
“I’d really like you to, but we’re playing a different place every night. There’s a lot of moving around. It would be hard on Mommy and Tommy.”
“We can get a nanny to help.”
Linda said, “A nanny? Where did you get that idea?”
“Patty said all the famous people get nannies to help.”
“No stranger is going to bring my children up. That’s Daddy’s and my job.”
Cory said, “We could always get someone to help around the house, so you don’t have to do everything. If we take that apartment, it’s miles bigger than our old place.”
“I don’t know how we can afford it while we still have to pay for the old place plus the one we’re in now.”
“Lew said he made a deal on the old place. Said it wasn’t safe for us any longer since they couldn’t control the onlookers.”
Linda said, “I feel bad for Mr. Romano. He was good to us.”
“Me too. Lew said he would give him five thousand to give him time to rent the place and pay the cost of the Kmart cop he had there.”
“Daddy, what’s a Kmart cop?”
“A silly way to say a security guard. So, what do you say? Are we getting the apartment?”
“It’s really nice.”
“You said I’d get my own room. Can we paint it pink?”
“Absolutely. Let me text Tracy and tell her to bring over the lease tonight.”
“Yay.”
Cory sent the message and said, “Now, let’s find a toy store so we can get you something.”
“Yay! And a stuffed animal for Tommy.”
“And Mommy needs some new clothes.”
“Not until I lose the baby weight.”
“That’s okay, get something now, and when you slim down, you’ll get some more.”
“We’ll see.” Linda tapped her phone. “Toy World is on Seventy-Second Street.”
“That’s a long walk. Let me go get the car.”
* * *
Loading the Tesla SUV with their shopping bags, a pair of teenage girls came up. “Are you Cory Loop?”
“Yep. How are you girls doing?”
“Oh my God. We love your album!”
“Thank you.”
“Can we take selfies with you?”
“Sure.”
Cory stood in the middle, and the girls clicked away. A small crowd began forming and Cory was surrounded. He was signing autographs when the Tesla’s window rolled down. Linda said, “Come on, Cory. We gotta go. Tommy needs to be fed.”
“Sorry, guys. I gotta go, but it’s was super meeting all of you.”
Cory hopped into the car, and as it drove off he said, “Wow, that was weird. I can’t believe those girls recognized me without the hat.”
“Daddy’s famous!”
“Not too famous to change a diaper.” Linda handed Tommy off.
“Never. Ava, help me a little. Then we’ll grab something to eat. I’m starved.”
As they changed the diaper, Cory said, “Why don’t we head down to the West Village? There’s a tiny place on Christopher Street, I Sodi. It’s the best Italian food in the city. I went there with Tracy. It was amazing.”
After placing their orders, Cory picked up a piece of bruschetta. “Wait till you try this, it’s incredible.” His phone pinged with a text. He looked at the screen and dropped the bruschetta.
Chapter Fifteen
“Cory, are you okay?”
“Daddy, are your new teeth bothering you?”
“No, I’m fine, honey.”
“I thought you were hungry. You haven’t eaten a thing.”
“My stomach’s acting up. I’m going to order a bottle of wine.”
“Wine? You just said your stomach’s bothering you.”
“Are you sick, Daddy?”
“I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.”
Though the message, I know, was ambiguous, Cory knew exactly what it meant. Someone was aware of what he’d done. He thought it was Riley. What did he want? Was he looking for more money? Could this be about trying to get a raise?
Cory wanted to fire him from the band, get rid of him so he never had to deal with him again. Riley had no proof the songs weren’t composed by Cory. Cory took his phone out and wrote a text to Lew. He told him to let Riley go, that their musical styles clashed.
Cory was about to hit send when he thought it might be better to have Riley close by. Keeping an eye on him might be the best way to handle this. Once he was sure it was him and that he had no evidence, he’d get rid of him. As they pulled up to their temporary living quarters, Cory deleted the text.
* * *
Tracy raised a glass of the champagne she brought over. “Here’s to your new place. May it be filled with laughter and joy.”
Linda clinked glasses with her and Cory. “Well, one thing is for sure, we know it’s going to be filled with dirty diapers.”
“Thanks for putting this together for us.”
“No problem. I’ve got to get going. We’re leaving tomorrow, and I’ve got a lot of packing to do.”
“I wish we had another day.”
“You and me both. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Cory walked her to the door.
“Do you know anybody that can do some checking around?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m getting strange messages from someone. I’d like to know if it’s who I think it is.”
“They’re not threatening, are they?”
“No. I just want to know who it is.”
“I have contacts in the security industry.”
“But I want this kept quiet.”
“Of course. What do you have?”
Cory handed her a note. “Here’s the number. Let me know who it belongs to.”
“No problem. I’ll get it checked out.”
He whispered, “You have any more of those sleeping pills? I’m down to the last two.”
She dug a bottle out of her bag. “Make sure you don’t take them with alcohol.”
“No worries.”
* * *
The Chase Center crowd was on their feet as Cory led the band off the stage. He tore off his hat and opened his sweat-soaked shirt. Tracy was offstage with water bottles.
“You’re not doing an encore?”
“No.” He grabbed a bottle and took a gulp. “That’s it for tonight.” The band took waters and headed to the green room.
Tracy said, “What’s the matter?”
“We sounded like crap.”
“No, you didn’t. It was amazin
g. The crowd loved it.”
“Well, I don’t think so. I got off to a rocky start and never recovered.”
“It was great. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“And it wasn’t just me. Riley blew a couple of chords.”
“I didn’t hear anything out of place.”
“I need a drink and a shower.”
“There should be a bottle of the Wild Turkey Honey Bourbon you like.”
“Wild Turkey? I told Lew I don’t drink that crap anymore. Make sure it’s Pappy Van Winkle from now on.”
“Sorry. If I knew, I would’ve made sure. Let me see what I can do.”
Stripping off his shirt, Cory walked into his dressing room. “Forget it.”
Tracy poured him a glass of bourbon.
“Three ice cubes.”
“I know.” She handed him the glass. “Try and relax. It really was a great show.”
He drained the glass. “This is nowhere as good as Pappy Vee.” He handed the glass off and went into the bathroom.
Cory’s mind raced as the water beat on his back. Right before he’d gone on stage, another text had come in. This time it said: I know what you did. You’re a fake.
It had thrown him so off that he’d flubbed the opening lines of the opening song. From there on, the demon in his head kept telling him he wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t wait to get offstage and cut a tune out of the set list.
Cory thought that during the show Riley seemed to be looking at him more than was necessary as the leader. Was he trying to gauge his reaction? The timing of the text couldn’t have been worse. Who else would’ve known, almost to the minute, the time the band was going on stage? It wasn’t a coincidence.
Cory had to find out who was behind it and determine whether it was a baseless taunt or if it posed a real threat.
He put on a pair of silk lounge pants and came out toweling his hair. “Can you make me a drink?”
Cory plopped onto a chair and put the TV on. Tracy handed him the booze, saying, “I understand this is an important tour, but you’re too tense.”
He took a slug. “I got a lot to deal with.”
She put her hands on his shoulders and massaged his neck. “Stop worrying, you got this. Trust me. It’s going to be all right.”
Cory stiffened. “I better get dressed.”
Tracy pouted. “Are you sure about that?”
“Believe me, I’d love to, but . . .” Cory headed into the bathroom. He splashed his face with water to combat the dizziness. He grabbed his phone and hit speed dial.
“Cory?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s the matter? It’s the middle of the night.”
“I don’t know, I just needed to hear your voice.”
“Tell me what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Things are moving too fast. I’m not sure of anything anymore.”
“We’re here for you, Cory. I know things are changing quickly. I feel it too. But if we can slow things down, it’ll get better. Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”
“Is that Tommy crying?”
“Yeah, he just woke up.”
“Go ahead. Take care of him. How’s Ava?”
“She’s good. We love you, and we’ll talk in the morning, okay?”
“Sure. Love you. Bye.”
Cory looked in the mirror as he buttoned his shirt. Linda was right, he could slow things down, take control.
“Cory? You okay in there?”
He opened the door. “Yeah, I’m fine. I want to go back to the hotel.”
“Did you forget about the backstage party?”
“Do I have to go?”
She smiled. “Definitely, everybody is expecting you. The label flew in a bunch of media big shots.”
“Ugh.”
“Come on, you need to eat anyway, and I put together an incredible spread.”
“All right, but I don’t want to stay long.”
“That’s okay. Hey, I forgot to tell you, my guy called about that number you wanted to trace.”
Chapter Sixteen
Cory’s heart rate sped up. “What did he find out?”
He held his breath waiting for Tracy to answer.
“My contact said the number was just a mirror one.”
“A mirror?”
“The caller uses a fake number to hide the real one.”
“He has no idea who it is?”
“No.”
“Now what am I going to do?”
“Block the number, at least they won’t bother you from that number.”
He took his phone out and blocked the number, even though he knew it was a waste of time. “I want you to keep an eye on Riley.”
“In what way?”
“I don’t know. I get the feeling he’s the one who’s hassling me.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Just do it, okay? And not just him, anybody says something or does anything a little strange, I want to know about it. Immediately.”
“Sure. But if you tell me what’s going on, I’d be more effective in helping you.”
“Not now.” He drained his glass and said, “Let’s get this damn party thing out of the way.”
Cory and Tracy walked silently in the underground corridor to a large area behind the stage.
The security guard said, “Nice show, Mr. Loop.”
“Thanks.” Cory turned to Tracy. “Let’s have someone get him something to eat.”
“Will do.”
The cocktail party was in full force. Lew Stein, with two teenagers in tow, made a beeline for Cory.
“Cory, this is my niece Janice and her friend. They’re huge fans.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Oh my God. I can’t believe we’re here. Can we take pictures?”
“Nothing I’d like more.”
“Hurry up. Cory has to say hello to everyone.”
Cory posed with the girls and signed autographs for them. He said, “Lew, why don’t you show them the stage? They’ll get a kick out of it.”
“Can we?”
As the manager led the girls away, Tracy said, “See the guy with the long sweater? He covers the arts for the Chronicle, but his column is syndicated, even The New York Times carries it. We have to say hello.”
“I’m not doing any interviews.”
“All I want to do is build a bridge tonight. I’ll reach out later about doing a piece on you.”
It took them ten minutes to handshake and chat their way thirty feet to the columnist. “Cory, I want you to meet Herbert Trout. He’s my favorite journalist. No matter where I am, I make sure to read anything he writes.”
“Tracy sure knows how to pump up an ego.”
Cory shook Trout’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same here. You’re quite the phenom.”
“It’s been a longer journey than everyone thinks.”
“I’d love to hear about that. What I say is, it takes at least ten years of hard work to become an overnight success.”
“I put more than ten years of practicing eight hours a day before I even picked up a decent gig.”
“It’d be nice to talk about that.”
Tracy said, “You tell us when, and we’ll work out the details.”
“Let’s chat next week.”
“Absolutely. Which of Cory’s songs did you like best?”
“The entire performance was entertaining. I appreciated the lack of an elaborate effects show. To me, they tend to distract from the music.”
“Thanks. That’s not who I am.”
“Where do you get your song ideas from?”
“Oh, I don’t know, they just come to me.”
“That’s quite a gift.”
“I write a lot, most of it gets tossed.”
“Well, we have that in common.”
Cory forced out a laugh.
Tracy said, “I hate to break this up, but the label execs want a piece of Cory.�
��
Walking away, Tracy said, “See? He’s going to do a piece on you. That’s great.”
“I don’t know about doing it.”
“You got to. It’ll help get you to the next level.”
“I don’t need to get anywhere.”
“You’ll sell more and command higher ticket prices for your shows.”
Cory said, “We’ll see. Right now, I need a drink.”
“Wait till you talk with the record guys. You’ve had a couple already, and I don’t want them to see you buzzed. And don’t forget, you got to be on the morning show set at seven a.m.”
“I know, but I’m really tight. Get me one more.”
* * *
Cory sat in a director’s chair in front of a backdrop of the Golden Gate Bridge. Cables snaked all over. He faced a semicircle of cameras draped with overhead microphones. Tracy was off to the side, talking to the production people.
Cory checked the time. Ten minutes to go. Putting the phone away, a text chimed in. Cory opened the message: Good Morning, Mr. Pretender.
He stared at the number. Who was this? It was clear whoever it was, wasn’t going away. He typed back: Who is this?
Your partner.
What do you want?
Some of the money you’re making from stealing.
I didn’t steal anything.
I told you I know, and you’re going to pay to keep it quiet.
Keep what quiet?
That the songs on your album were taken from Jay Bird.
That’s crazy.
I’ll be in touch. Soon. Real soon.
Chapter Seventeen
Cory’s head was pounding. He closed the drapes and flopped on the couch. He closed his eyes and was drifting toward sleep when his phone rang. It was his manager.
“Hey, Lew. What’s going on?”
“What happened with the morning show?”
“Nothing.”
“You were disconnected. It didn’t come across good.”
“It was all right. I had a late night.”
“Were you hungover?”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“I heard you were knocking it back pretty good after the show.”
“I was fine.”
“You’ve got to be careful. You got to remember, kid, there’s a lot of eyes on you. We need things to go smooth, real smooth. That way, on the next album we’ll get triple the royalties you’re getting now.”
Cory's Dilemma Page 6
