“Good God,” Andre says. “Did you think it was? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“We were all thinking it. You spent almost thirty minutes last week telling me how pissed the label is that they still don’t have another album.”
“No, I never thought it was over, just wasn’t sure how to snap you out of your funk. But that also wasn’t what I was goingto say about the song. It’s amazing, Jaxon. You’ve always been talented, but those lyrics? They’re going to haunt me until the day I die, and then I want them put on my headstone.”
I laugh. “Which ones?”
“I used to think that goodbye was the end, but I see you in the sunrise again and again.”
“Right? That’s the part that came to me last night. It changed the whole song, but it also brought it all together.”
“It’s really good. I’ll get your video sent over to Alex at the foundation as well as to Henry so he and the folks at SevenFour Entertainment can start planning what we’re going to do with it. You know what they’re going to ask though, don’t you?”
“When am I going to have enough for a whole album?”
“Yup,” he says. “That and, if they decide they want you to perform this one, when can you be in the recording studio. It’ll be nice to have something to offer them after the last year. They’re…not happy, Jaxon.”
Fuck. Of course, my label isn’t happy with me. I know that. I’ve known that. How can they not be annoyed that I haven’t done anything worthwhile in the last year? And an unhappy label is never a good thing—especially when they own every song you’ve ever recorded.
“I’ve already got a second song I’m working on,” I say, thinking of the stack of napkins from my first official fake date with Izzy. “So I feel confident I can have an album ready for the fall. I don’t know about getting into a recording studio, though. I don’t think I can uphold my end of the fake-dating bargain if I’m gone.”
“You could consider just dating her for real,” Andre offers after a long pause.
“I regret telling you any portion of this.”
“Aren’t you hanging out regularly while thinking about how to give her orgasms?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds a lot like dating to me,” Andre says.
“Dating would suggest some kind of feelings, and if I’m lucky, she sees me as a friend. Worst-case scenario, she can’t stand me and is just hiding it to try to get a date for her sister’s wedding out of the deal.”
“I think you’re wrong, but as your employee, I guess I’ll let you figure that out on your own.”
“That’s why I pay you the big bucks,” I joke, wondering if he’s right. If we’re dating and just calling it fake.
“And how is collecting your mom’s stuff going?” Andre asks, clearly back to his checklist of items to cover with me. “Have you finished your dad’s room? I pushed the movers back now that you’re definitely staying for the wedding, but the sale is the following Monday. We need to have the house packed up before that’s finalized.”
“I’m not quite finished,” I say, my eyes moving without my consent to the corner of the ceiling where my dad’s room sits upstairs.
“You haven’t started, have you?”
“Haven’t even opened the door,” I say.
“Just rip the bandage off,” Andre suggests. “I’ll stay on the line. Just walk upstairs and open the door.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll get to it. Tomorrow maybe. Or after Thursday. Maybe my plan will work, and I’ll be riding a post-Izzy-orgasm high.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” Andre asks.
“Likely because you know me too well.”
Andre laughs, and we finalize a few more work things before hanging up.
Knowing Andre isn’t wrong about my dad’s room, I head upstairs, mentally preparing myself to open the door. That’s all I need to do—just open the door. I don’t even have to look in. I canjust turn the handle, push the door a bit, and then leave. That’s manageable.
I reach the top, the wood giving way to the gray carpet, and I stop at the door. Just push it open. That’s all I have to do. Wrap my fingers around the doorknob and twist.
