“Huh?”
“Spotted it a mile away. The first night I met you, you drank like a fish and smoked like a chimney. I’d originally planned on doing an exposé, but then . . .” She sighed. “Then I got to know you. And I couldn’t do it. But, girl, you’ve got to get it together. You’re a mess.”
“So I drink a little and smoke weed.” I shrugged. “That’s rock-and-roll.”
“A little?” Monica tilted her head. The look she gave me—twisted lips, hands on hips, and a don’t play me glint in her eyes, reminded me of Mama.
My cheeks burned. “Seriously, I’m good. Trust me. I’ve been around alcoholics.”
Monica clapped her hands together. “Okay, then tell me this: Would you feel comfortable drinking this much if your husband and babies were around? Imagine Bria watching you stumbling around—sweaty and drunk and high.”
I didn’t imagine myself, but I remembered Daddy stumbling around the kitchen, making a mess, toppling over chairs and breaking dishes.
Heat prickled my neck. I loved Daddy so much. He was a genius. He had a good heart. He was the best daddy in the world when he didn’t have a bottle clutched in his hands.
“No,” I finally answered, shame weighing down my voice. “I wouldn’t want that.”
“That’s the first step.” Monica nodded. “Can I give you some advice?”
I snorted. “You ask me now?”
She remained standing, hands clasped in front of her. Waiting, I guess, for my answer.
I nodded.
“As much as I love the band, love—I mean like Ethan, you may need to leave them.” She shrugged as if she hadn’t suggested that I ruin my career and go back home.
“Leave them?”
“Yep.” Her eyes serious. “For your own good.”
I threw my hands up. “I can’t go back to being a stay-at-home mom. I’d die of boredom.”
“I’m not suggesting that.”
“Then what?”
“Do it on your own.”
“Do what?”
“Music. Listen, the music is good, and you guys are on fire, there’s no denying that. But you could have a stellar career without the guys. Ethan’s said it, the label knows it, and Trent damn well knows it. The size of the crowd has nearly doubled because of you. They aren’t chanting Trent’s name as much anymore. They’re shouting for you.”
I tapped my heels against the carpet, considering her observations. At the beginning of the tour, I was just a glorified backup singer, but now, we were playing more of my songs. Just last week, the record label tried to get me to sign on permanently.
“Let’s be real,” Monica continued. “You don’t seem to like the traveling part. You light up when you sing, but more so when you write lyrics and compose the music. That’s where your talents lie.”
“So, I should just go solo? What about Davey, Ethan, Drew . . . Trent?”
“They survived without you before, they can do it again. They have an audience, a solid following. They may never make it to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but they’re hot and make good music. With strong management, they can make it work for the long haul.”
“Still, I’ve written like five songs for them. I’d feel bad to just leave them high and dry.”
“You can still write the music. Just don’t record the songs and perform. For your career, work with a smaller or indie label where you can have more freedom in your contract.”
“You are so right!” I rushed to hug her. “You are my new best friend. Thank you, thank you, and thank you!”
She chuckled. “You’re welcome.”
I stepped back from her embrace.
“But, um, one more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“You really need to lay off the drinking. I . . . I hope you don’t take this wrong, but I do think you need some help.”
Embarrassment flooded my cheeks. “I think I—”
“I’m speaking from experience.” She reached in her pocket and pulled out a purple and gold-plated medallion. “Three years sober. I was hesitant to join you on this tour. I was afraid of being tempted, and it’s been hard. Damn hard, but I’ve been going strong.” She rolled the coin in her fingers. “I know I dumped a lot on you, but when you’re ready, we can talk.”
Monica paused at the door. “I know everything seems overwhelming right now. And the addiction, it wraps its scaly skin around your body and squeezes and chokes and robs the life out of you.” She exhaled, a faraway look in her eyes. “You feel like you can’t move, can’t breathe.” She refocused on me. “But you can fight it. You can win, and nothing is sweeter than a clear mind and a clear heart.”
CHAPTER 12
Good Girl Gone Bad—Sienna
Whoever said revenge is a dish best served cold is an effing liar. My revenge is a piping-hot plate of petty, and I’m loving every millisecond of it. And the ladies had happily joined me in my plot for retribution.
Raina patted a sticker with my name and campaign logo on her chest. “I can’t wait to go door-to-door to campaign for you.” She passed a sticker to Kara.
Chris strode into my living room, clipboard in hand. He waved over Kara and Raina, who’d sat on the suede couch across from me. I stood to join them.
Chris shook his head. “Sienna, you keep practicing for the debate next week. I’m just showing Kara and Raina where they’ll be canvassing.”
“Canvassing.” Raina clapped her hands together. “I feel so official.”
Kara gave me a weak smile. Although she looked perfectly put together on the outside—starched black slacks and a cotton button-down shirt—a cloud of sadness cloistered around her, like a bad aura. My heart went out to her and Darren, and I wished I could’ve been there for my friend. If only she would let me in.
She ignored my calls and would only respond with one- or two-word text messages. Until today, none of us had met up since Nikki left a month ago.
Raina had given me big eyes when they’d arrived at Chris’s place. I knew that look. We needed an intervention. Usually, I was the one who could get things out of Kara. I’d tried to approach her a few minutes ago, but Kara just whispered, “Later.” I’d give her the weekend, but after that, I was going to invade her space until she exorcised her feelings about the separation from Darren.
“Okay, you’ll be going here,” he pointed to the sheet, “and here.”
Kara nodded. “Got it. I’ll put it in my phone’s GPS.”
“Great.” Chris pulled back the clipboard. “Have you reviewed what you’ll be saying? I emailed you the talking points last night.”
Raina raised her hand. “About that . . . love your talking points, but I’d like to spice it up a bit.”
“Spice it up?” Chris’s tone turned to the trademark take-no-bullshit voice.
Raina was not deterred. “Yeah. I think we should talk about why they should vote for Sienna—”
“Which is what I’ve done.” Chris cut in.
“And not vote for Keith.”