Zane gave him a smile he didn’t mean.
“But wedoneed to get a handle on this now. One dud in a career is expected. But two in a row, and we’re at the beginning of the end.”
Zane felt a pain in his stomach, as if the scotch was burning through the lining. He stared out at the empty swimming pool, watching as the breeze caused a ripple across the top of light turquoise water that should be still. “We’re in grave danger of circling the drain. Noted.”
“You know, Zane, you and I are not too different. Being a studio head is a strange existence. It comes with power and wealth beyond what I could’ve imagined as a young boy. I’m sure you can relate to that.”
He had a distinct feeling that Larry was laying some sort of trap but decided that agreeing with him was his best option, especially since what he said was true. “Definitely.”
“When a man can have anything he wants whenever he wants it, it’s easy to get lazy. To avoid that, one must have areasonto continue giving his very best. For me, it’s about legacy. What will people remember me for when I’m dead and gone?” Larry had a sip of scotch. “The truth is, the average person won’t remember me at all—not like you—but those in the industry will know me as the man who gave the world The Vows, among other bands. Andthatis thethought that sustains me when I’m in a board meeting when I’d rather be on my yacht off the coast of Monaco.”
Zane narrowed his eyes. “Are you suggesting the album didn’t sell because we got lazy?”
“Not at all. I’m saying that to stay at the top, you need to know why you show up every day. So? What’s your reason?”
“It’s the only thing I’ve ever done well in my entire life.” It could have been the cocaine, but Zane felt a surge of love for his career, and he knew losing his place in the world would crush him. “When I’m writing or performing for a crowd, it’s like I’m offering the world a little piece of my soul. I’m saying, ‘here, take this with you. I hope it makes you feel less alone.’”
“And that’s why you’re one of the last few artists in the world.” Larry offered Zane a fatherly smile. “And it’s why The Vows is one of the last great rock bands. It would kill me to have to watch the downfall of a great American institution.”
“It would kill me faster.”
“So, let’s stop it from happening. First step is identifying what went wrong.”
There were so many things he could’ve said, and yes, laziness was among the answers. Writing had also become a much more challenging pursuit since he and Angela parted ways, and he’d been avoiding it—every word was a strain when it used to flow. The band had also been given a large supply of the world’s finest coke upon entering the studio, which made the most basic effort sound incredible, including their ill-advised foray into reggae. But he could hardly say any of those things, could he? After all, the reggae had been his idea in the first place. His mind scrambled until he landed on something he knew would work. Itwould make him an asshole but so be it. “I don’t really want to say.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m nothing if not loyal.”
“Loyalty to the wrong people has brought down many a great man.”
Zane sighed heavily, knowing once he went down this road, there was no way back. He was about to break the only promise he’d ever kept.
The following Thursday, Zane pulled up in front of Dean’s loft to meet the band. The late afternoon sky sent down a drizzle of cold, wet rain as Zane pocketed the keys to his Lamborghini and strolled to the front door. By design, Zane was the first to arrive. Dean answered the door, already holding two open bottles of Heineken. He gave one to Zane. They clinked them together, then Dean said, “This is gonna be real fucked up, isn’t it?”
Sucking some air between clenched teeth, Zane said, “Sorry about this, buddy.”
“What do you mean,youneed to write the songs from now on?” Mike sat on the couch, his left leg bouncing furiously. “What the fuck for?”
Zane’s body went numb, and he had a desperate urge to drive straight to Woodwind Manor and tell Larry to forget the whole thing. But he couldn’t do that. That would mean telling him he lied. “Believe me, this is the hardest thing I’veever had to do in my life. But… the truth is… I didn’t connect with the songs you guys wrote for the album, and if I can’t connect with a song, it… comes off as hollow.”
Rusty narrowed his eyes. “Hollow?”
“Yeah, you know… there’s no soul to it. And if there’s one thing about art, it’s that it needs a soul, or it just doesn’t have that same pull. For the audience, I mean.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, man,” Steven said. “Every album has songs you didn’t write, and a lot of them are hits.”
“Maybe stay out of this,” Zane told him. “Since you’ve never even written a song.”
“Real nice, Zane,” Mike snapped. “As if Steven’s not going through enough. You need to pile on too?” Steven and Miriam were in the middle of a nasty divorce, a fact that Zane kept forgetting.
He felt immediately ashamed. “Sorry, man.”
“Whatever,” Steven muttered.
Mike clucked his teeth at him. “And this is some bullshit. It’s not because ofwhowrote the songs. It’s because we tried to change it up and added all that reggae to it, which youlovedat the time, by the way.”
Rusty shook his head. “We should’ve laid off the coke.”
