An excerpt from my second novel, Finale:

I sank down onto the piano bench and tapped my fingers on the keys, creating a shrill, grating sound. “To what do I owe this great setback, Mr. Levant?”

“Not a setback.” Jonathan shook his head and tugged off his aviator cap, freeing a messy, golden mane. I hoped he interpreted my gawking for impatience. “A correction. You and I are writing a song together.”

“And where’d you hear this rumor?”

“I arranged this fact with Alan weeks ago.”

“Alan had my consent to arrange jack with you.” I gave the sheet music atop the piano a flick. “I don’t know who you think you are now, Altar Boy, but I write people hits. I don’t collaborate. I don’t waste time debating what the purpose of my job is or waiting around for ex-heartthrobs who finally learned a thing or two about music.”

“Altar Boy! Finally, something other than Johnnie, John or Mr. Levant. Maybe someday you’ll work up to actually calling me Jonathan.” He stretched out his hand. “All right, let’s see the song. I’d hate for you to have wasted your time.”

I pursed my lips at his sarcastic tone and slid the music across the piano top toward him. He picked it up, studying it for a moment before flipping through the pages. “This isn’t even a duet.”

“Why would it be?” I fought to unclench my jaw. “Planning on splitting yourself in two?”

“No need.” He bumped his hip against my shoulder, forcing me to move over on the bench, and he took a seat next to me. “You and I are going to write and record a much better duet than myself and I ever could.”

“What?” My mouth dropped open. “You’re mistaken. I don’t record. I don’t sing. I—”

“Lies, all lies.” He danced his fingers over the keys and played a brief, surprisingly intricate melody. “I heard the demo tape you sent over. You got talent, you know you do. Now Altar Boy and Suspicious Crab Ass will take the world by storm when they create a song so good it’ll end world hunger and make everyone come for days.”

In spite of myself, I laughed and relaxed a bit. I even felt a little excited. At the prospect of the project, not the man—the boy—beside me, to be sure.

“First, let’s decide what kind of song we want to write,” Jonathan said. “I vote you try your hand at a love song.”

I made a face. “Please.”

“I don’t understand why you hate love songs so much. Everyone else likes ’em.”

“I’m not like everyone else.”

He blew out a stream of air, a smirk dancing on his lips. “No kidding.”

“I told you this before. I don’t like writing about love. It seems silly, trite, too Hallmark for me. I want to write about something real.”

“Are you implying love isn’t real?”

I shrugged. “You want to put words in my mouth, that’s your problem.”

“Fine, now here’s your problem. We’re doing a love song and that’s that.”

“A sad love song?” I gave him my best cute baby animal eyes. “One with a tragic end?”

He laughed. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“It’s called compromise, Levant,” I muttered. “Try it someday.”

“Funny. Have you ever compromised a day in your life?”

I threw my hands in the air. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Fair enough.” Jonathan bowed his head.

I opened my mouth, prepared to continue arguing before I realized he’d just agreed with me. Jesus, he was catching me all kinds of off-guard today.

As if to confirm that, he unexpectedly turned his dark-eyed gaze toward me and gave me one of the most beautiful grins I’d even seen. “If you’re about done being belligerent, let’s get to writing one amazing piece of sentimental crap, okay?”

“Can’t wait.” I all but snarled the words, but the banter made me giddy and I couldn’t hide my smile. Perhaps this wouldn’t be such a nightmare after all.

To purchase Finale, visit the book’s page on Whiskey Creek Press Torrid.

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Lux Zakari
Author of Secretly More, Finale and Coercion
luxzakari@gmail.com
www.luxzakari.com