I moved methodically as I put the guitar back in its case, wondering how I’d survive the waiting, but then . . . I didn’t have to. My phone buzzed with a text message.
Erika: You fucking nailed it.
Erika
As soon as Ardy ended our team meeting, Charlotte practically climbed over the Opry House seats to get to me. It’d been a long day of listening to auditions, and the consensus among Warbler was to recommend Lauren as the agency’s pick to Stella. Like Troy, she’d also knocked her audition out of the park, but she had a terrific résumé, including touring experience, to back her performance up.
Ardy wanted to play it safe.
I was thrilled for my client, but the personal disappointment inside me was crushing. I wanted this so badly for Troy. All hope wasn’t lost though, I reminded myself. Stella’s fans would have a say when the series aired on her site, and the artist herself would make the final decision.
Charlotte’s smile was bright and energetic. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”
I stood from my seat and stretched, tired from sitting all afternoon. “Sure. What’s up?”
She glanced around mischievously and lowered her voice, like she didn’t want anyone else to hear. “The pool boy. He’s yours, right?”
My body was suddenly made out of concrete. “What?”
“Your client? Troy.”
“Oh.” It was embarrassing where my mind had automatically gone. Of course she’d meant professionally. “Yeah, I brought him in.”
This was the answer she was hoping for because her smile widened. “So, I know I’m probably not supposed to ask this, but like . . . what’s his deal? Do you know if he has a girlfriend?”
The concrete was back, solidifying my bones. I could give her a line about not getting into the personal lives of my clients, but it’d be utter bullshit. Instead, I gave her the most honest answer I could. “No, I don’t know if he has a girlfriend.”
Because while Troy and I were exclusive, we’d never put those labels on each other. It wasn’t like we dated. We had wild sex and I used him both as my personal sex toy and my muse to write music. That didn’t mean I was his girlfriend.
Charlotte looked pleased. “Then he probably doesn’t. I think she would have been here if he did, or he would have mentioned her to you.” She quirked her head to the side. “I mean, it’s none of my business. It’s not like I can date him even if I wanted to. My dad would freak out.”
The idea of Charlotte and Troy dating was a punch to my stomach. It wasn’t just how we were secretly together. It was the fact that Troy and Charlotte were the same age. They were both attractive, and no one would think twice about them if they went out. On the surface, she made a lot more sense for him than I did.
I fucking hated it.
And what happened when Troy eventually realized I was too old for him? He’d leave me for a girl half my age . . . probably one who looked just like Charlotte.
“You look worried,” she said, “but you shouldn’t be.” She waved to her father across the theatre, signaling she’d be right along. “Everyone from Warbler can vote for Lauren, but there’s no way Troy doesn’t win the popular vote.”
“Why do you say that?”
She laughed like I was being ridiculous. “Hello, do your eyes work? Lauren’s great and all, but he’s gorgeous and all of Stella’s fans are like me—girls.” She kept her gaze glued on me as she backed out of the row, her eyes sparkling. “I’d vote for him every day, and twice on Sundays.”
I couldn’t help but share her smile.
My plan was to call Troy after I’d finished the final verse of ‘Power,’ and he’d come over as my reward. We’d celebrate his audition, I’d play the full song for him to see what notes he had, and once I’d taught him the whole thing, he’d smile . . . and I’d be done for. I’d tear off his clothes and demand he make me come, and he’d happily oblige.
I’d stopped by the gym, squeezed in a quick workout, and hopped in the shower as soon as I came home. I was still drying my hair when my phone rang, and excitement flashed through me. Was Troy unable to wait, and calling me? I raced to grab my phone like a teenager with a crush.
The number wasn’t his though.
“Hey, there,” I said.
Jenna didn’t give me a greeting. “Are you at home?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because I’m in your driveway.” She sounded upset. “Troy told me everything, Erika. We need to talk.”
She said the word talk like a threat, and my heart leapt into my throat.
“Oh,” was all I could get out before the call disconnected.
When I unlocked my front door and pulled it open, she came through in a huff, her gaze not meeting mine as she barreled straight for my kitchen. I followed her heavy footsteps and stood by the sink, watching her as she dropped her purse on the counter, reached into my fridge, and popped the top of a . . . Diet Coke?
Unbearable tension gripped me as she drank. I expected her to be furious, but she looked more irritated than anything else, which was strange.
“I’m not happy with either of you,” she announced. “He not only kept it a secret, he straight-up lied to me. You did too.” Hurt filled her expression. “How could you not tell me? I thought I was your best friend.”
“You are,” I said quickly.
She didn’t look like she believed me. “This is a huge deal, and you kept me in the dark.”
The guilt I’d shoved away into a closet, suddenly burst open and swept me away. “I’m so sorry. It just happened, and we—”
“It just happened,” she repeated dubiously. “Yeah, this huge audition for Stella just fell out of the sky, and there was no way either of you could do anything about it, including mentioning it.”
She took another swig of the Diet Coke, and if I wasn’t so flustered, I might have found the angry way she drank comical. He’d told her everything, and this was what she was upset about? How we’d kept the audition secret, and not that we were sleeping together?
A voice in my head warned me I was being stupid. She’d said he’d told her everything, and in her mind, maybe he had.
But there was no way it was true. If it were, she would have come in like an inferno and likely reached for something a hell of a lot stronger than a soft drink.
“But Troy had enough time to ask off for it,” she said. “And lie to me about what he was doing.”
My emotions scattered everywhere. There was relief at not having the immediate confrontation, and then my guilt was back, where I promptly began hiding it away again, and finally, irritation. Wasn’t she proud that he’d gotten to perform and was being considered for such a huge opportunity?
“I’m sorry we lied, but,” I swallowed a breath, “aren’t you happy for him?”
Jenna gave me a flat look. “Of course, but it’s hard to be happy when I know what’s coming.” Her eyes filled with sadness. “He’s going to be crushed when he doesn’t get it.”
My heart hurt for Troy because she didn’t believe in him, but also at how she could be right. “He might, Jenna. He’s really good.”