She sat back in her chair and considered my question critically, and then her eyes turned sad. “No.” She made a face. “I mean, maybe? It’s like, when my dad said I was going to get to work at Warbler, I got all excited. I grew up surrounded by music, and I always expected it’d be a part of me.”
I tilted my head in question.
She pivoted in her chair to better face me. “So, I thought I was going to get,” she searched for the right word, “rock n’ roll.” She gestured to the contract on her computer screen. “Instead, I got this. This . . . is not rock n’ roll.”
My laugh was gentle. “No, it’s not.”
“I’m sure it’s not news to you, but I suck at paperwork, and I don’t like doing things I’m not good at.”
There was a twinge inside me because I could absolutely relate. Who would enjoy doing something that made them feel inferior? “Have you told your dad this?”
Charlotte’s pretty face skewed. “I don’t think he’s going to want me to keep working here if I say I don’t like it.”
“I don’t know, your dad’s a smart guy. He might have some ideas that are a better fit for you.” Plus, he loved his daughter. He’d do all he could to make her happy.
Her expression was skeptical at first, but I watched the wheels turning behind her eyes as she began to consider what I’d said.
Her phone was lying face-up on her desk, so when the notification with Troy’s name popped up on the lock screen, my eye went straight to it. “What’s that?”
She picked up her phone and looked embarrassed. “I, um . . . set an alert on Troy’s name.”
Except for Ardy, no one at Warbler knew Troy and I were dating. We’d decided to hold off on revealing it until after Stella’s tour was over. Our relationship had no bearing on him landing the show’s opening spot, but this would keep any rumors of impropriety from circulating.
Charlotte’s embarrassment was harmless. She worried she’d come off as a silly girl with a crush, but if she was, I couldn’t fault her for it. I felt that way around him too.
“What’s the notification?” I asked.
Was it more pictures from last night? He’d been in one Stella had posted to Instagram. But Charlotte’s eyes widened as she stared at the screen, forcing me to step behind her and read over her shoulder.
“I guess that answers the question,” she said flatly, “on whether or not he has a girlfriend.”
My mouth went dry and my body cold as I processed what I was seeing. First, the red logo at the top of the screen caused dread. Nothing good for my clients had ever been posted on TMZ. Second, the headline made my stomach turn.
“Stella Auditions Her New Man!”
I didn’t read the article because there was no point. The photo did all the storytelling.
The picture was grainy and angled from above, probably taken by a drone and then zoomed in. It was the only way to get pictures of her property because the community was gated, and her fence was an impressively high wall, surrounding her estate on all sides. I’d been to her house once with Ardy, and we’d marveled at how far she’d come from the two-bedroom apartment she used to share with her parents and sister.
The image had been captured while Troy was mid-step in the circle drive, walking toward the open door of an SUV. It was likely Stella’s personal car, preparing to take him home after their evening was over.
I didn’t know the circumstances that led to the picture, but several facts were undeniable. He was wearing the same clothes he’d been in Stella’s IG post from earlier in the night.
He’d gone over to her house afterward.
And the sun was up when the picture had been taken, meaning he’d spent the night.
It felt like I was back in that dark hallway, staring at Clark’s office door, knowing everything was about to come apart and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I straightened so abruptly, it caused alarm in Charlotte. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Although the shake in my voice said otherwise. I put one foot in front of the other and forced myself to walk to my office.
It was fine, I told myself. I’d call him and there’d be a perfectly reasonable explanation. I tried not to think about how gorgeous Stella was, or how successful, or that she could catapult his career and make his dreams come true.
All I could think about was how young she was. Practically his age. She was America’s sweetheart, and maybe the only girl on this planet his mother would approve of.
My hands shook as I held my phone and tapped his contact name.
It rang.
And rang.
Somewhere ‘Reckless’ was playing because that was the ringtone he’d chosen for me. The fourth ring was interrupted by a click, and then his sleepy voice came through. “Hey.”
“Hey!” I overcompensated, so it came out extra bright. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but that’s okay. What’s up?”
My pulse throbbed in the side of my neck. “How was your night?”
“It was great.” He sounded marginally more alert. “She gave me all these tips and told me the stuff she wished she’d known starting out. I could have listened to her talk all night.”
I’d told him to be a sponge. To do way more listening than talking, because people just starting out were weirdly overconfident and often came off as know-it-alls.
“All night?” I tried to sound nonchalant. “I heard y’all kept the place open late.” I both did and didn’t want to know the answer, so my voice was tight. “What time did you get home?
There was a fraction of a pause, but it was a fucking dagger to my heart. That microsecond was the time it took him to craft his lie.
He sounded distant. “A little after three.” He tacked it on as if it were the perfect explanation. “We were doing shots.”
“Three,” I repeated.
“Yeah. Why?”
“I asked what time you got home,” I maintained a cool veneer, “not what time you left the bar with her, Troy.”
“What?” There was rustling on the other end. Had he bolted upright in bed? It sounded like the covers were shifting around him. “What are you talking about?”
“You spent the night at Stella’s place.” I’d naïvely hoped he’d tell me I was wrong, that it wasn’t true.
But I was met with nothing but silence.
My tone was pure bitterness. “If you need help jogging your memory, go check TMZ.”
He sounded desperate. “Okay, yeah. I went back to her place, but you need to believe me—nothing happened.”
I wasn’t Erika Graham anymore because I’d become a volcano of fury. “Are you fucking kidding me? You just lied, and now you’re asking me to believe you?”
It hurt to breathe. He was supposed to be better than Clark. Troy had told me he didn’t understand people who cheated, but . . . had it just been bullshit? I should have known better. He’d lied to his mom so many times, lying had to come easy for him now. And I hadn’t just participated in lying with him, I’d actively encouraged it.
God, I was so stupid.