I can’t believe he just said to that me. “A child? You of all people know what I’ve been through. It’s not like you sat us down for a friendly chat. You ambushed me in a public place and set up photographers to catch it.” I shove him off, pushing him away.
“Something like that. Florian has new songs. They’re good. Very good and he needs you. His muse. The thought of seeing you, of being near you, of being with you, is the one thing that’s kept him sober all these months.”
Christ, that’s such a fucked-up thing to tell me. Talk about trying to guilt me using my one weakness like a weapon.
“And if I don’t? If I walk away?”
“You won’t,” he states firmly. Confidently. “Like I said, you loved him once too. You can spend time with Florian or not. Hell, you can tell him to fuck off. I don’t care. But this album is happening, and it’s happening with your help because I know you won’t risk Florian falling off the wagon.”
My heart starts to ratchet around my chest, desperate to claw its way out. My skin suddenly feels like it’s burning up, my body angry and miserable in my skin.
“You’re fucking with my life!” I scream.
“No, honey. I’m not.” He takes another step into me, replacing his hand on my shoulder and looking deep into my eyes in that softer fatherly way of his. “I’m reinventing you. I’m giving you the second chance you’ve refused yourself all these years. You had that stalker when you were a teenager. Then your mother died, followed by your father. And it was all very tragic. I know this and I’m not downplaying it. It tore us all apart. Then Florian was too fucked up with drugs to see what he was doing and how he was hurting you. But you let it all push you into hiding. That’s no way to live. I allowed it because I thought maybe it was what you needed. But after Florian and you broke up, you’ve been lifeless. I can’t watch it anymore. You’re too young and too talented to throw your life away. So I’m sending you a life raft.”
My eyes burn with tears that I refuse to let fall. It’s seemingly effortless for him to say these things from on top of his ivory tower. He can say he’s tired of seeing it, but he hasn’t been here on the ground with me. I’m the one who found my dad. I’m the one who had to read those letters from that crazy stalker. I’m the one who walked in on my fiancé about to shoot up. I’m the one who lost the baby and weathered that emotional storm alone.
I know he’s right to a certain extent.
I have gone into hiding.
I did let my dream die. It’s why I said yes to the duet with Gus. But I didn’t agree to Florian and I definitely didn’t agree to the media drama. I like my life private and Casper knows this.
“He didn’t tell you about the baby, did he?”
Casper blanches, his expression growing stricken. “What baby?”
I can’t get into it again. I just don’t have that in me this morning after last night and everything that’s subsequently happened. “Ask him about it. Ask him about it and then tell me if I should forgive him. If I should ever have anything to do with him again.”
“Jesus Christ,” he hisses under his breath. He takes a step back and runs a hand through his hair. He nods his head and pivots back to me. “I will ask him. But for now, we need to go. You’ve got a busy couple of days with Gus, and I need your help with Florian and this album.”
“I haven’t forgiven you,” I tell him.
“I know. But you will. I’m your godfather and uncle for lack of a better term.”
“Don’t forget that, Casper. You call me your family. At the end of the day, that’s all there is. Don’t put this business before me ever again. I’m not kidding. I don’t give a damn about the money, I’ll walk.”
Ten minutes later I’m stuck in a room with Gus—who can barely meet my eyes and when he does, they’re filled with ice—Florian, who won’t freaking leave despite my asking him to, and Steven who is trying his best to keep his expression stoic. I give him a lot of credit for that because I can’t seem to manage it.
Steven goes over everything we need to get done. He wants to play around with what we have so far, hoping we’ll be able to pull it together along with a few other verses and a stronger chorus if he adds some music to it.
It’s an impossible task right now.
I can’t write this in front of Florian and all that chemistry and connection with Gus feels lost, never to be found again. Instead, we’re rife with tension and awkward silences.
I hate this. I should have called Gus last night. I should have called him first thing this morning. Hell, I should have demanded five goddamn minutes to talk to him, even when he blew me off.
I don’t want him thinking all the things I know he is.
I like Gus.
I think I really like him.
And even though Florian is scrambling my brain, that fact hasn’t changed. Even with Casper’s words about Gus loving Viola still and the truth behind that. Because I know there is more going on between us than just the music. I know this. And I know Gus does too; otherwise, he wouldn’t be reacting this way.
Gus is up in the booth first and this seems to please him immensely as he walks past me without so much as a sideways glance and shuts the door behind him. I blow out a frustrated breath, my belly churning with acid.
“Your new admirer is handling this better than I anticipated,” Florian says, and right now, I want to hit him over the head with my guitar. I wouldn’t, because I love my guitar more than his miserable life, but still, the temptation is there.
“Why are you here?” I snap without turning away from watching Gus in the booth. I keep trying to catch his eye but to no avail. “Go somewhere, anywhere else. You’re trying to hurt him. And me. Gus is a good guy, Flor. He doesn’t deserve your shit.”
I feel Florian move up behind me, his body heat hitting me in all the wrong places and in all the wrong ways. “He tried to take what’s mine,” he whispers into my ear. Of course, Gus picks this very moment to finally look in my direction. His jaw clenches and his fists ball up, but other than that, he appears impervious.
My elbow flies back, catching Florian in the ribs. “I’m not yours anymore. Go. I’m not kidding.”
Florian chuckles, the sound rumbling against me, and I hike my shoulder up, brushing him off.
“I’ll go, but I know you’ve heard the news about the album. We won’t be starting until the end of the month, until you’re done with Gus, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be bothering you, as I said I would. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart. You can count on it.”
The second Florian is gone, I feel like I can finally take a breath.
In fact, I collapse onto the couch, dropping my face into my hands.
“You’re in it with this, aren’t you?” Steven asks as he listens to Gus play the guitar through his headphones. I don’t even know if he’s singing at this point or really what the hell he’s up to in there. I’m messing this all up for him and to say I feel horrible about it is a gross understatement.
“Seems that way. Did you know about Casper’s master plan?”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m just a worker bee. But I’ve known Casper since before you were born, so I’m not surprised. Crawl By Night needs a successful album. They’re teetering on the edge and could go either way. Gus asked you to do the duet. Casper wanted you to restart your career. All the pieces came together.”