Page 17 of That Weekend in Paris
“Or maybe he’s afraid Klein would be all for it?”
I meet his knowing gaze, a little surprised. “I’m not assuming that.”
“It’s no secret Josh can be an ass. I’d be hard-pressed to say we enjoy working with him.”
This surprises me, I have to admit. Josh puts on a good front, wining and dining, kissing butts at whatever level it needs to be done to ascertain the complete happiness of his clients. “You still planning on writing once you start up your own publishing company?”
“I’m not sure I know how not to write,” I say, smiling a little. “Some days, I’d like to go that route. Quit trying to outbest myself.”
“You’ve set a high bar, that’s for sure,” he says. “You’ve written some great songs.”
“Thank you.”
“Really. You have. Whatever else you decide to pursue in life, surely you know that?”
“I appreciate that, Curtis. It’s a competitive business, as you know.”
“That it is. The bar gets higher every day. But I enjoy chasing that. Trying to figure out what will resonate as the cool new sound. Keeping enough of the old school in it to keep the traditional fans happy.”
“Y’all are certainly doing a great job of that.”
“Well,” he says, standing and slapping his hands on his knees. “I’ve got some loose ends to tie up before tonight. Anytime you want to talk, you’ve got my number. Whether it’s about business or if I can help you navigate the divorce waters, I’ll be happy to tell you anything I’ve learned.”
“Thanks, Curtis,” I say, sincerely appreciating the offer. “That means a lot. It feels a little overwhelming at the moment.”
“I know. Figuring out how to separate a life you lived as one with someone into two separate lives again is no easy trick.”
Klein walks over and says, “I think I’m going to head back to the hotel, grab a shower. Maybe close my eyes for thirty minutes or so. Still feeling that jet lag.”
I stand and say, “Okay. I’m ready to head back. Mind if we share a ride?”
“Absolutely.”
We tell everyone goodbye and head downstairs.
“So, what’d you think?” Klein asks as we reach the exit onto the street. “Honestly.”
“Honestly? I think you’re going to knock it out of the ballpark tonight.You are hitting on all cylinders, Klein. Really.”
“That’s kind.”
“I’m not just being kind. You’re writing crazy good songs. And I could sit and listen to you sing them all day long.”
He smiles at this, and I realize maybe I’ve given away a little too much, but I’m not backtracking any of it because it’s true. I could. “I’m no different from anyone else who’s bought a ticket to see you tonight.”
He’s already ordered the Uber, and a black sedan pulls up alongside the curb. Klein opens the back door, waits for me to get in. Once the driver has eased back into traffic, he looks at me and says,“You have no idea how much that means, coming from you.”
I lean back, study him for a moment. “You don’t see yourself that way, do you?”
He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “I mean, I understand what it takes to make it in this business, and that I have most of that on a good day. But, no, I have plenty of doubt, that’s for sure. Especially before a big show like this.”
“That’s understandable, but you take to that stage tonight what you had in there this afternoon, and you won’t have a single regretting fan.”
The driver circles the car to the front of the hotel. Klein thanks him. We slide out of the back, walking through the main entrance and down the long corridor to the elevator that leads to our rooms. We reach my floor first.
“Thanks,” Klein says. “It was a great day. I really enjoyed it.”
“Me, too,” I say. “Thank you for letting me watch the rehearsal.”
