Light My Fire (2 page)

Chapter Three

♬

Prudence Clearwater

There were so many times I picked up the phone and looked up Cash’s name. My thumb hovered over the call button, shaking. But I couldn’t do it. I put the phone away and didn’t look at it.

I just wanted to go back to him, back to his house. I loved living with him. The routine we had was perfect. I could do it every day. But I had to remind myself that he didn’t want that. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to die alone.

The harsh reality made my tears burn my throat. I let them fall in the privacy of my apartment so I could act normal
whenever I was out in public. But it was hard. Really hard.

I went to Trixie’s and found a very different crowd. It was an elegant bar and there was
a piano in the corner. I didn’t think the name was fitting. After I set up my guitar, I saw a familiar face in the crowd.

Darrel?
Dennis? What was his name again? I think it was Dean…

He winked at me when our eyes met.

That was creepy.
I avoided his look and played my set. Cash was constantly on my mind because every damn song was about him. I guess that’s what I get for writing about our relationship. My set of songs came full circle, telling the entire story from the beginning to the end. My songs weren’t always about love, but they were in this case. I felt like Taylor Swift.

When I was done with the set, I just wanted to go home and cry. Like usual. I packed my gear then collect
ed my payment. Now I could afford dinner.

Ugh. Being poor sucks.

When I moved through the bar, Darrel intercepted me. Dan? I couldn’t remember his name.

“Hey.” His arms hung by his side
s and he seemed unthreatening. A beautiful smile was on his face, along with two dimples. He was definitely good-looking, just like everyone else in this city. But I felt nothing. The only person I wanted was Cash. But he wasn’t here.

He studied my face. “Hey,” he repeated.

Oh. I was supposed to talk.
“Hi.”

He eyed me. “Everything okay?”

What do I say? I didn’t want to be rude. You know what? No. I wasn’t in the mood to play nice.
“I’m having a bad night. Please excuse me.” I moved around him.

“Whoa, hold on.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

I eyed his hand on my wrist. I didn’t appreciate being touched by a stranger. I glared at him. “Let go of me or I’ll break your nose.”

His eyes widened and he released me. “You’re spunky. I like it.”

I didn’t give a shit if he liked it. I turned around and walked out. Of course, he followed me. He stood in front of me and blocked my exit. “I’m sorry. I just want to talk.”

“I’m not interested in you.” I had no idea if that’s what he wanted, but he’d probably be so offended he would just leave me alone. Cash was the only man I wanted, and if I couldn’t have him, I didn’t want anyone.
Damn, I was pathetic.
I was in love with someone who would never love me back.

“Whoa…I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He lowered his hand
s. “Can we start over?”

I tightened the strap on my shoulder. “What do you want?” My voice came out harsh.

“I’m a record producer.”

Fuck.
I just insulted my chance of making it big. I really wish I could pull my foot out of my mouth right now. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “I’ve clearly caught you at a bad time.”

Every time was a bad time. “Yeah…”

“Can we get a drink or a cup of coffee? I’d like the opportunity to talk to you.”

I’m surprised he still wanted to. But then I realized he might be lying. Maybe he was making all this up just to talk to me. Growing up in a big city taught me to be innately distrustful of people, especially men.
Thank you, Isaac.
“How do I know this isn’t an act?”

His eyes widened. “An act?”

“You could be claiming to be a record producer just to talk to me.”

Now he looked irritated. “You must be new here, so I’ll explain this to you. When a record producer approaches you, it’s probably a good idea to be polite. And it’s probably a good idea to not call him a liar. But since you’re clearly not having the best time of you
r life and you’re very talented, I’ll let it go.” He stared at me, waiting for my response.

I still waited for proof.

He sighed then opened his wallet. He pulled out a business card then handed it to me. It was a Capitol Records business card. And his name was on the front. There was a possibility he was crazy and went through all the effort to land women, but I found it unlikely. “Thank you.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you still want to get that drink?”

I’m surprised he still wanted to. “If you do.”

“Let’s go somewhere quiet.” He walked up the street and I followed him a second later. We reached a Lamborghini and I stilled. He was obviously rich, so he probably wasn’t lying.

He opened the passenger door then helped me inside. He was a gentleman too. Then he moved into the driver’s seat and drove away. I picked up his business card again and looked at the name.
Dean.

Dean was silent as he drove to the coffee shop. I didn’t know what to say. I already made an idiot out of myself. I was totally rude and out of line.

When we walked inside, we ordered our coffees then took a seat in the corner. It was quiet, light jazz music playing in the background. I was nervous sitting across from him. I immediately thought of Cash. I missed him.

Dean sipped his coffee then returned it to the table. “I hope we can start over.”

“Yeah…”

“Is there a reason why you assumed I was hitting on you?”

There was. Cash saw me at a concert and immediately pursued me. I guess it reminded me of that. But as far as I was concerned, I still belonged to him. At least I wish I did.

“No…I’m on edge.”

He nodded. “Back breakup.”

It wasn’t a question. “How did you know?”

“I listened to your music. That told me everything I needed to know.”

Oh. That was a dead giveaway. “Yeah.”

“I can understand why you aren’t ready to date again. And why you assumed I had less than noble intentions toward you. I admit I think you’re beautiful and will make me a lot of money, but that wasn’t my intention.”

That was a relief. “Okay.”

He smiled. “Feel better now?”

“I do.”

“So, how long have you been playing?”

“My whole life.”

Dean nodded. “That’s believable. You’re very talented.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you only play the guitar?”

“No. I also play the piano, the bass, and the drums.”

His eyes widened. “I’m liking you more and more.”

I chuckled. It was the first
time I’d done it in a long time.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything. I want you to feel comfortable around me.”

“You look awfully young…”

He smiled. “I’m almost thirty…my looks are extremely deceptive.”

I laughed again. “People still think I’m in high school.”

“I can see why. But I can tell you’re a mature woman. Mid-twenties?”

I nodded. “Twenty-three.”

“Perfect age.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant.

“Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

“How are you such a wealthy record producer at such a young age?” I asked.

He shrugged. “My dad was in the music business his whole life. Then I followed in his footsteps. I’m also the owner of the record company. It was given to me when he died.”

Oh. That’s a sad story. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” He studied my face. “You’re a very sweet girl when the timing is right.”

I blushed. “I’m sorry I was so rude before.”

“It’s okay.” He smiled at me. “Just don’t be mean to me again—unless I deserve it.”

“I hope you never do.”

He leaned forward over the table. “Where are you from?”

“London.”

“Even better. Americans are obsessed with the British.” He drank half his coffee then returned it to the table.

I wasn’t sure where we went from here. It sounded like he already had his mind made up. He wanted to sign me to his company. But how did I negotiate that? Should I get a lawyer? I couldn’t afford one…

“Have you ever been in a band?”

“My band just toured here, actually. We didn’t get picked up.” I realized I should get him to sign the band, not just me. That would be better. “We’re really good. I think you’d make more money with them than just me.”

He shook his head. “I highly doubt that.”

No.

“You’re hypnotic. Young girls will look up to you. Women your age will copy you. And men will put posters of you all over their wall
s. You’re a money bag.”

I didn’t care about money. I just cared about making music. “But that’s not the most important thing…”

He smirked. “I wish it weren’t. In this industry, it’s not about awards or sticking to your guns. It’s about how much money you make. Nothing else matters.”

I didn’t like that. “I’m not going to play music that I don’t enjoy. I won’t change my mind.”

Dean studied my face. “That’s something we’d negotiate in the contract. If you get one.”

If?

“Prudence, I’m a good guy and I’ve been doing this for a long time. I have no interest in tricking you, using you, or misleading you. I will always be honest with you. I know that isn’t true for all record companies. You at least have that.”

But could I trust him? Isn’t that exactly what a manipulator would say? “I need some time before I decide anything.”

“I haven’t offered anything.” He finished his coffee then pushed it aside. It was already ten in the evening. He must never sleep.

“Okay.”
Now what?

“
I like to get to know my artists before I decide anything. I don’t care how talented you are. If you are difficult to work with, have a bad attitude, and won’t follow the rules, I won’t sign you. So I take my time.”

“How do you know I’m not lying?”

He stared at my face for a long time. “I’m good at what I do, Pru.”

Chapter Four

♬

Cash Matthews

I hardly ever masturbated, except when I was a teenager. But now I was doing it like crazy—thinking about Prudence. I always preferred real pussy to my hand wrapped around my dick, but I didn’t want that. I only wanted her. The shampoo she left in my shower would have to suffice for now.

I finally went to Hillberg with Denver. The secretary blatantly ignored me for fifteen minutes. If she knew who I was, she wouldn’t be so careless. She finally addressed me. “Do you have an appointment?”

             
“No.”

             
“Then make one.”

             
Damn, she was bitchy.

             
“I was hoping to speak to the person in charge of this establishment.”

             
“You could if you had an appointment…”

             
I played it cool and kept my anger back. Denver didn’t.

             
“Can we speak to someone who actually has a college degree and is intellectually suited to a have a full conversation instead of repeating the same shit over and over?”

             
Damn.
“Denver, calm down.”

             
“We need to hurry.” He glared at the secretary.

             
She hid her face then walked into the back.

             
“I think you made her cry,” I snapped.

             
“Who gives a shit? She was fucking rude.”

             
“Making women cry is still fucked up.”

             
“I don’t care.” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for something to happen.

             
Finally, a man in a suit approached us. And he didn’t look happy. “My secretary has informed me I have fine company waiting for me.”
Yep. He was pissed.
I glared at Denver again before I spoke.

             
“I apologize for our rudeness, but I’m in need of your services.”

             
“Did you make an appointment?”

             
Seriously? Why were they so obsessed with appointments?
“I just need an address or a phone number for one of your associates. He had a meeting here a few weeks ago.”

             
He narrowed his eyes at me. “We don’t hand out that information.”

             
I tossed the bag at his feet. I expected some resistance. “There’s ten thousand dollars in cash in that bag.”

             
His eyes widened then he kneeled. He examined the contents then returned his look to me. “How can I help?”

             
I smiled. “That’s better.”

             
He picked up the bag and led me toward the back. “I need more information about this person.”

             
“His name is Jeremy. And he works for Mitchel and J in London. Does that help?”

             
The suit rubbed his chin. “I think I remember him.” He sat at his desk then moved to his computer. He opened his email and went through his correspondents. I tried to keep the desperation off my face. If I didn’t get what I needed out of this guy, I was screwed.

             
“I don’t have a phone number.”

             
Fuck.

             
“But I have the name of his organization. I can call and try to get what you need.”

             
“Please.”
Fucking please.

             
He picked up the phone and made the call. After a twenty minute conversation, he shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

             
This can’t be happening.

             
The suit turned back to the computer then scribbled some notes. “All I managed to get was his address.”

             
His address? “Where he lives?”

             
“Yes.” He nodded then handed it to me.

             
Thank god.
“Thank you. Thank you.”

             
He nodded. “I’m glad I could be of some service to you. I just hope you don’t intend to hurt the young man. He’s a nice lad.”

             
“No, it’s nothing like that,” Denver said. “My brother is in love with his sister and he’s trying to track her down.”

             
I elbowed him in the side. No one needed to know that.

             
“What?” Denver snapped.

             
“Nevermind.” I shoved the note into my pocket. “Thank you. Enjoy your cash.”

             
“Oh, I will.” He placed it under his desk.

             
We walked outside then headed to the car.

             
“Now what?” Denver asked.

             
“I’m going to London.”