Page 33 of One Weekend in Los Angeles

“I get anxious before I take time off to write.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

She let Callie back in and gave her a scoop of food. “Anxious in what way?”

I was always careful what I shared regarding my creative process because I didn’t want to sound ungrateful. “I’m thankful for the success I’ve achieved, but every time I go into the studio, I fear my next effort won’t be as good as the other albums.”

“I suppose it would be tough to keep raising the bar, especially when it’s so high already. Of all the songs you’ve written, which is your favorite?”

Leave it to her to make it easy to talk to her. We spent the rest of the morning in casual banter before I drove her to a nondescript office building where Lawrence rented space. Given how often he worked for high-profile clients, he rotated office locations every year so as to make it less obvious who might be seeking him out. I hoped we’d get lucky and be able to avoid the paparazzi.

“Thanks for driving me,” she said, appearing nervous in the passenger seat.

“Happy to. I have an appointment with my record label, but it won’t take long.”

I’d just finished up the meeting and was shooting the shit with people on my team when my phone buzzed. I smiled when I saw it was a text from Andrea, but it dropped when I actually read it.

Shit. She was on her way to confront her ex.

“I have to go.”

Chapter Nineteen

ANDREA

Lawrence was a handsome, forty-something-year-old man with wisps of gray in his black hair that made him look both distinguished and debonair.

It was immediately clear he intended to be aggressive in his approach. “My job is to get you what is fair, and I will stop at nothing to make sure that happens. I’m quick, I’m relentless, and I guarantee once Jeff’s attorney finds out who is now representing you, he will be more amenable to agreeing to an out-of-court settlement.”

A week ago I would’ve hesitated in engaging an attorney who was out for blood, but that was before Jeff had threatened to take my dog. Now the gloves were off.

“I’m on board with your plans, but we should discuss price.”

He sat back in his chair to regard me. “I’ll be honest. Deacon discussed the rate with me and seemed to think I’d be out of your range. So he offered to do me a big favor in exchange for me giving you the same rate you’re paying your present attorney.”

“What favor?” The last thing I wanted was Deacon taking on my debt.

“He agreed to sing at my daughter’s birthday party, and if you say no, I guarantee she and her friends will never forgive you.”

I smiled. Singing at a birthday party sounded harmless enough. “What is your typical rate?”

“Twelve hundred an hour.”

Holy shit. I was paying four hundred and fifty and thought that was high.

“My daughter is twelve, and sometimes I’m an absentee father given the hours I work, so believe me when I say the trade is well worth it to me. Plus I’m intrigued.”

“Intrigued how?”

“Deacon isn’t a guy who goes out on a limb for anyone, which means you must be special. Why don’t you tell me about Jeff and how your finances are situated.”

It took thirty minutes to detail out everything. Lawrence took notes the whole while. “Who are the other partners in the bar?”

When I gave him the names, his brows rose. “One of them is a reputable financier who won’t want his deal to get messy. When does the bar open for business?”

“Their grand opening is next month. Jeff is there every day getting things together.”

“I think it’s time to meet him on his own turf.”

Turned out my new attorney had a flair for the dramatic, as illustrated by his plan. If going along with his scheme meant I could settle this divorce quickly and get custody of my dog, then I was happy to play my part.