Cause For Scandal (Dynasties: The Elliotts #3)(30)
Author: Anna DePalo

She wondered now whether she’d sold herself short. Where would Granddad have gotten if he’d been afraid to succeed in publishing? If he’d let himself be bound by the customary fields of work for the son of Irish immigrants?

What was it that Zeke had said? EPH was your grandfather’s dream. It doesn’t have to be for all his kids and grandkids.

Maybe she’d gone about it all wrong. Maybe remaining true to Granddad’s example meant pursuing her own dream rather than her grandfather’s.

She opened her eyes and exhaled. Yes.

She didn’t know what she’d do yet, but she did know her future wasn’t tethered to EPH or The Buzz. She wanted to find out how much talent she had as a photographer. She’d love to have the sort of gallery exhibit that Oren had had recently.

Zeke’s words echoed in her head. You’ve come a long way…. Don’t back away now.

Finally, she knew what he’d meant. It wasn’t just about John or her love life. It was about her life. Period.

She felt a smile touch her lips. How many times tonight had she thought about what Zeke had said? She didn’t care whether it was due to having a mother who was a psychologist, or because he was in tune with emotions because of his music, Zeke Woodlow had taught her a lot about herself.

Her smile widened. She’d learned something—something profound—from a bad-boy rock sensation.

And, with that thought came another.

Release your inner goddess…. Release your inner goddess….

Her inner goddess, she realized, wanted Zeke Woodlow.

Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. She not only wanted Zeke’s, she loved Zeke.

He was smart and funny, and he made her a better person by challenging her. And they had amazing chemistry. Sure, she’d learned a lot from him in bed, but she’d learned even more out of it.

She didn’t have to wonder whether she was being swayed by Zeke having been her first lover. Intuitively, she knew she’d never have had the same chemistry with John or any other man even if she’d gone ahead and slept with any of them.

It all made sense now. She loved Zeke.

Yes, his career would often put him on the road, but it would make life with him an adventure. And if she was going to be a serious photographer, a career on the road might be ideal. She’d never lack for interesting subjects and scenery.

It no longer mattered to her that she wouldn’t be getting married at twenty-six…or even in the foreseeable future. She realized that life couldn’t be lived according to a neat plan.

What mattered to her was that she and Zeke were committed to seeing where things led between them. She knew he’d remain a heartthrob to his fans, but she also knew she could accept that—as long as he felt as strongly about her as she did about him.

That thought should have buoyed her. Instead, she slumped back against the sofa cushions. The problem was that three days ago, she’d kicked Zeke out of her life.

She looked at the glass clock on the end table. It was one in the morning in New York, but only ten in the evening in Los Angeles.

She could call him, but she’d much rather talk to him in person. Then she remembered Zeke had said he had a concert in Houston at the end of the month.

Picking up the phone again, she got in touch with the airline that she usually used.

She was going to Houston, and this time, thanks to The Buzz, she hoped to have a press pass to get backstage.

Eleven

Zeke strummed his guitar, played a few bars and paused to jot down some notes.

Then, becoming distracted again, he tossed aside his pencil.

Damn. It was no use.

Since Summer had left four days ago, he’d found it hard to concentrate.

It was now Thursday, and he was still in L.A. He looked around his music room. If time apart was what she wanted, then that was what he’d give her. Anyway, the truth was, he’d been hanging around Manhattan for the past month mostly to be near her, rather than for any pressing business reason.

He had the song down now, and it was about her. It had always been about her, he realized. In a fit of inspiration last weekend, before she’d left, he’d finally gotten the song down—lyrics, melody and all—during the small hours of the morning while she’d slept.

Too bad that now she was gone, his writer’s block had returned with a vengeance. He was unable to make any progress on another song, his thoughts straying again and again to Summer.

At a sound from the doorway, he looked up. “Hey, Marty.” He looked back down and experimentally played a few notes.

Marty walked into the room. “How’s it going?” his manager said, adding, “The housekeeper let me in.”

Zeke put the guitar aside and stood up from the couch. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“It’s sort of an impromptu visit.”

“Can I get you anything?” he said. It was almost lunchtime.

“Just some iced tea, if you have it. I want to talk to you.”

Zeke nodded. Marty only ever stopped by to talk business.

When they were seated at a table on the veranda, he with a beer and Marty with his iced tea, Zeke said, “So shoot.”

“How’s work on the next CD going?”

“It’s going,” he said. “Slowly, but it’s going.”

Marty nodded, looked off into the distance, and then back at him. “Look, Zeke, I want you to consider something and keep an open mind about it.”

Zeke thought he could guess what Marty was going to say.

“For this next album, I was thinking we could have you do remakes of some classic songs, and even get you a little help with the songwriting on new material.”

“Marty, no.” He raked his hand through his hair. “You know writing songs is what I want to do, and I need to establish my credentials. Get a few more hits under my belt.”

“Zeke, under your contract, you need to have another CD out next year.”

“I’ll make the deadline,” he responded, “but then I’m committing myself to doing the songwriting for the Broadway musical that I’ve been approached about.”

“What? Look, I thought we’d discussed this.”

He gave Marty a steely look. “You work for me, Marty.”

He rarely had to pull rank, but he did it now.

More and more, he and Marty were seeing his career in different terms, and Zeke wondered how much longer they’d be able to work together. In the past, Marty had steered him right in many ways, but this was a decision that he felt strongly about. It was a question of vision—vision about what to do with his life.