Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Adele

Sunday morning

Y esterday had been my day off, and I’d done absolutely nothing. I shut off my phone, slept in, stayed in my pajamas, and tried like hell not to think about the one person who consumed my thoughts on a continuous basis.

Oliver.

I stretched in bed, then rolled over and pulled the phone charger out of the end of my cell before bringing it up and turning it on. I really didn’t disconnect from the world like this often, but with constantly working, doing singing gigs in my free time, and the thoughts running through my mind of all the what-ifs and the “why didn’t I do this or that,” I was exhausted. So I totally just wanted to unwind, unplug, and recharge.

And I felt incredible right now.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat up, resting my back against the headboard of the bed, and stared at the screen of my cell as it lit up and finally turned on. I set the cell on my lap and reached out to grab a hair tie from my bedside table drawer, pulled up my braids so they were out of my face, and wrapped the tie around the thick strands. As soon as my phone was on, I heard the continuous dings of missed calls and text messages.

One was from my mother, but the rest were all from Bishop. Although I was friends with him, we didn’t normally talk outside of work. Maybe they were short-staffed and he wanted me to come in?

All his calls and texts were from last night, late, so if that was what he wanted, it was too late now.

I opened up his messages and started reading.

Bishop: Adele, some guy is here asking about you. Only knows your first name. Seems sketchy as hell to me.

Bishop: Yo, where are you?

Bishop: Why aren’t you answering?

Bishop: Told him I didn’t know anyone named Adele, but I could tell from his expression he knew I was full of shit.

Bishop: Dammit, Adele, where the fuck are you?

My heart was beating overtime as I continued reading.

Bishop: He saw the staff picture on the corkboard before he left. I could tell he recognized you right off the bat. I’m gonna kick his fucking ass if he shows back up here again.

This kind of protectiveness wasn’t unusual for Bishop. He was very protective of all the girls at the club. It was his establishment, and he treated all of us like family. It also wasn’t unheard of for him to kick some drunken idiot out who was disrespecting one of the employees. And it certainly wasn’t foreign for him to beat up some asshole who put their hands on us.

Oh my God.

My heart was beating double-time at this point, and I hoped—prayed—that Bishop was talking about Oliver. It had to be, right? Bishop hadn’t said what the guy looked like or what his name was, but who else could it be?

No one else would be looking for me. No one else would be asking for me by my first name, right? It’s not like I used my name when I sang. I used the pseudonym Addie, more for my privacy, and even more because I wanted to be someone else when I was up on those stages. But I’d given Oliver my real name.

Bishop most likely thought it was some kind of creepy stalker, maybe someone who’d seen me singing at one of the bars. Hell, maybe it was. I didn’t know. I just hoped it wasn’t. I hoped it was Oliver.

But the latter seemed far less likely. I wanted to think that Oliver was so enamored with me, the same way I was with him, that he was actually searching for me in this big-ass city.

I brought up Bishop’s contact information and hit dial, putting the phone to my ear and listening to it ring. It was early, and he’d no doubt be asleep because he’d closed the bar.

My heart was still racing, my hands shaking a little bit, because adrenaline was rushing through my veins. A second later, I heard his groggy voice answer on the other end.

“Hello?”

I could tell by his lack of interest that he probably didn’t know who was on the other end. I assumed if he knew it was me, he’d be a little bit more animated, given all his texting and calling yesterday.

“Bishop, it’s me, Adele.”

I heard him clear his throat and then some shuffling, as if he were moving around.

“Adele, what the hell? I was trying to get ahold of you all damn night.”

It was my turn to clear my throat. “Yeah, sorry about that. I disconnected, shut my phone off, and was holed up in my apartment.”

“What time is it?”

His voice was still groggy, and I pulled the phone away to look down at the time on the cell screen. “Early,” I said after I had the phone pressed back to my ear. “Just after eight. Sorry to call, but after your texts and calls, well…” I shifted on the bed, my heart still racing.

“Damn, Adele, that dude from last night?—”

“Yeah, I don’t know what that was about.” I can only hope I know what it’s about. “Wh—what did he look like, Bishop?”

“Shit, Adele, I don’t know. I wasn’t measuring him for a suit.”

I chuckled, and in return he did the same.

“He had short dark hair. Couldn’t see his eye color good enough, but blue maybe? It was dark in the club. Looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. But I guess other than that, he was pretty well clean-cut. Had nice clothes on.”

God, I felt like I was going to faint despite sitting down. “Did he say his name?” I held my breath as I waited for Bishop’s answer.

“Didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer that information up. I didn’t tell him I knew you, but I could see by his expression he knew I was lying.” There was a moment of silence. “You know him? Because if not, shit, Adele, I’ll kick his ass if he thinks about showing up again.”

I didn’t know what to say, but I wouldn’t lie. “I hope it’s who I think it is. His name is Oliver.” Saying his name out loud to another person was weird. But it also felt strongly right.

I didn’t elaborate on who Oliver was to me, and Bishop didn’t ask.

“So he’s no danger to you then? If it’s this guy you’re hoping it is?”

My body got hot and tingly as I thought about Oliver, as I remembered how the only thing dangerous about him was all the filthy things he’d done to me in that hotel room.

God, I had to get off the phone with Bishop if I was thinking about this stuff about Oliver.

“No, he’s not a danger. If it’s him.” And after I hung up with Bishop, all I could think about, hope for, was that when I went to Lyrics tonight, when I got on that stage for the very first time and looked out into the audience, Oliver would be there watching me.

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