More Than Anything by R.E. Blake

to do is have you listen to some demo tapes from some of the best songwriters I know. If we can find one or two we think are hits, we’ll run them past the label, and if they agree, we’ll do them. If I had my way, I’d want fifty percent covers and fifty percent original material. But in the end it’s up to you and Saul.”
    “More Saul than me, I bet.”
    He grins and nods. “You’re a fast learner, obviously.”
    I pull my phone out of my purse. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but I got a call I need to return, and I’ve been waiting to do it for most of the show.”
    “No problem. Fire away.”
    I call the number, but there’s no answer. I stare at the phone and see there are two voice mail messages. The first one’s from Jeremy, who I texted my new number earlier.
    “Hey, girlfriend. It is I. Saw you on the tube at the awards. You look fab. And that outfit – positively scandalous. Kidding. Just wanted to say hi. Call me back whenever. I’ll be out late tonight misbehaving, if I have any luck at all, but try me mañana . Ciao, darling.”
    The second message is from Derek.
    “Hey. Just wanted to say I was thinking about you all day. I’ll get a phone tomorrow and call. Sorry I’m such a loser with stuff like that. Priorities.” He hesitates, and I can hear him breathing heavily. I wonder if he’s been drinking, then banish the thought. Why do I always do that to myself? “Anyway, it was good to hear your voice. I guess that’s all I called to say. Be good, and nighty-night.”
    My chest tightens as I imagine him holding me and saying the same words, softly, just like he did then. I try to figure out how to replay the message, but delete it by mistake instead.
    “Crap,” I say, and Sebastian looks over at me.
    “Everything okay?”
    “Yeah. Just missed the call I was waiting all day for. Just that.”
    He doesn’t say anything, and we sit listening to the rumble of the massive V8. I drop the phone in my purse and sigh.
    “How important is it that I’m here for the entire record?” I ask.
    “You mean, how important is it that you, whose career is riding on it, and whose name is going to be on the cover, are there to approve every bit of the thing that’s going to make you a legend? Oh, I don’t know. Probably pretty damn important.”
    I don’t like the sarcasm, but I have it coming. This is a self-made man whose time is worth more than ten of me, and he’s waived his upfront fee to work with me. I feel like a complete ingrate.
    “Why?” he asks. “June told me your mom’s sick, but that’s just what she read online.”
    Damn Melody. I’d bet money she put something up on Facebook about hanging out with me at the hospital. She’s a good friend, but the worst secret keeper in the universe. Which I know, of course, but am constantly relearning.
    “No, it’s not that. I mean, it could be. It’s just that I really thought I was going to be back in New York. This is all so sudden…it’s taking a little getting used to.”
    “Oh.” He doesn’t understand, and I don’t want to explain, so I change the subject. “Let’s talk about you. You’re pretty young to be such a famous producer. How did that happen?”
    He’s taken aback by the blunt honesty of my question and gives me a reappraising glance as we roll to a stop at a red light.
    “Being in the right place at the right time helped a lot.”
    “I’m sure that’s not true.”
    He laughs. “It’s a little true. I got some good breaks, and I did the work to make the most of them. And I enjoy what I’m doing, so I spend a lot of time at it. For me it’s like therapy, going to church, and a career, all in one.”
    “June says you spend most of your time in the studio.”
    He shakes his head. “I’ve got to muzzle her. She makes it sound way worse than it is. Yeah, I spend a lot of time there, but I’m making a name for myself. You don’t succeed in this business by doing things part time.”
    “I’d say