Page 85 of Saving Ian Pope

Took a good forty minutes to get to Jack’s place, battling traffic all the way. He’d texted me back that he be home in thirty. I could wait in the lobby of his building.

Didn’t take me long to convince the doorman of my identity and that I was Jack Davies’ client. While waiting, I did a search for Matt Russo in LA. I got about a million hits. I tried Matt Chase and got about two million. I pocketed my phone and clasped my hands in front of me, my mind still roiling with questions.

Jack came through the lobby door, his ruddy cheeks more flushed than usual. He pulled his blue scarf off his mouth. “Hope you weren’t waiting long, mate. Did Ivy get off okay?”

“She’s probably somewhere over the Atlantic about now.”

“Good, good.” Jack twitched his head, birdlike. “Was there a problem with the PR notes? I thought the meeting went well.”

“Meeting was good.” I stood up from the chair in the lobby and unbuttoned my coat. “Speaking of meetings, I just came from my meeting with Julian.”

“Julian.” Jack’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, and his fair English complexion grew mottled. “Oh, right, your semi-annual financial review. I-is there a problem?”

“Are we gonna stand down here and talk, or are you going to invite me up to your place?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jack loped to the elevators with his long stride, and I followed him, knowing in my gut I’d caught him out. I just couldn’t suss out his crime.

He babbled all the way to his floor about the PR meeting, stroking my ego about the music. He dropped his keys at his door and scooped them up hurriedly.

Ushering me inside, he asked, “Something to drink? A fizzy drink? Water?”

“I just want the truth.” I kept my coat on and shoved my hands into my pockets.

“The truth about what, Ian?” He left his coat on too and even secured the scarf around his neck.

“I saw the item in the spreadsheet you sent Julian, the item for Chase Arts. What is it, Jack?”

“It’s uh...” He wiped a hand across his mouth “...some funding for an art project in LA.”

“Bollocks. Why does it have Ivy’s last name? Why did the payments start the month she came out here to live with me? Whydidshe come out here to live with me suddenly, after dumping me in LA?”

“Mate...”

I drilled him with a hard stare. “Don’t mate me...mate. Just give it to me. Am I paying Ivy a monthly salary to be with me?”

“It’s not like that, ma...Ian.” Jack mopped his face with his scarf, even though I could almost see my breath in the cold apartment. “We’re paying her, but it wasn’t her suggestion.”

There it was. Jack’s words, although expected, hit me like a bowling ball to the chest. I think I even swayed on my feet for a second. “It was your idea.”

Jack paced to the window, twirling the ends of his scarf, almost strangling himself.Would save me the trouble. “You know how it was, Ian. You missed that woman so much I was afraid it would derail the new music—and it almost did. I figured you’d relapsed, and I was nervous it would happen again. You don’t know what it’s like. The record company breathing down my back”

I gave a sharp laugh that almost choked me. “Idon’t know what it’s like. You’re really trying to tell me I don’t know what it’s like to have the record company on my ass.”

“I mean, I know you do as an artist, but it’s a whole different level as a manager. They threatened to drop you, Ian. It would’ve ruined your career. I did it for you, mate.”

“And your own job.”

“I’m not denying that, but you were so close to a comeback, and it was because of Ivy. I knew if she was back in your life, it would put you on track—and it worked. You finally chose the right person, Ian, someone who’s mad about ya.”

“So mad about me she has to be paid to be with me.” I balled my hands into fists and kept them in my pockets so I wouldn’t put one through Jack’s wall.

“Look, I’m not gonna pretend that I know why she split with you. I thought it might be a money thing, but when I first called her with the plan, she turned it right down. Then she changed her mind and called me a few days later and accepted the deal. What does it matter? You love her, and she loves you.”

“Does she, though. If you love someone, you want to be with that person freely. Love isn’t a transaction, but I guess it is with me.” I didn’t know what I wanted to do—smash something, take off for Lapland, go home to my mum, but I knew what I didn’t want to do—drink. The idea of boozing in response to this latest failure actually made me sick.

“One other thing...” Jack held up a finger as if making an argument in High Court “...she doesn’t know it’s your money.”

“What does that mean?”

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