3. Gage
Gage
T his day steamrolled me.
I was so consumed by today’s drama, I toyed with the idea of asking my receptionist to accompany Lily at tonight’s event. Even in my pissed-off state, I recognized it was a bad idea. It’s one thing to justify not being able to meet her at the airport, it’s another to ditch her altogether.
As I stroll through the Pompadour Hotel’s lobby, I pull out my phone and shoot off a text to Michaela and Phoenix to let them know I’ve arrived. I also send one to Lily to let her know where to find me. All three of them respond.
Done.
I head towards the Baudelaire Bar for a much-needed drink. Since I won’t be here long, I refuse the hostess’s invitation for a booth, preferring a spot at one of the high tables offering an unobstructed view to the entrance. I’m too restless to sit down.
After placing my drink order, I begin the countdown until I’m able to inject my veins with alcohol.
When the bartender drops a gin martini on ice in front of me, I lift my eyes to the ceiling and let out a silent prayer.
After the hellish day I’ve had to endure, I need to deep dive to the bottom of this glass, and never reemerge.
I drain half my drink in one go.
I drop the glass on the table, and realization hits me.
Lily and I never exchanged photos, and I didn’t stalk her online.
Since Fisher connected us, our few exchanges have been brief. Not that I’m complaining. I’d rather that than her texting me incessantly. On the downside, I have no idea who I’m supposed to meet.
I’m about to shoot her another text and attach a photo, when Mr. and Mrs. Konig appear at the threshold.
Phoenix lifts a hand in salute.
I respond in kind.
He and his beautiful wife head my way.
“Hey,” Phoenix says, patting my shoulder. “Did you survive the day?”
“Barely.” I lift my martini glass. “That’s why this is the first of many.”
“I saw the screaming headlines,” Michaela says. “Is any of it true?”
“Fifteen-year-old violinist Snow Hyman’s aggravating, loudmouth mom is convinced her daughter is the next in line for her own Vegas headline show.”
Michaela frowns. “Is her daughter that talented?”
“Snow has potential, but her bratty attitude is insupportable,” I say.
“In the end, the public voted her off the show. Her fame-hungry mom has been vocal in expressing her outrage, but I never thought it would amount to her accusing my show host of sexual harassment.” My jaw ticks.
“To add insult to injury, loud mouths on the internet are going apeshit crazy, chanting, ‘ Nail the motherfucker’ without knowing the facts. ”
“Is there any truth to the accusations?”
I shake my head. “No, Phoenix. Not a shred of truth.”
“You’re certain?”
“I am. Matthew would never do that.”
Phoenix frowns.
I lean into him. “There are certain things I can’t reveal right now.”
He nods. “Got it.”
I take another swig of my drink.
Michaela places a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry you have to deal with the ordeal and chaos that comes with these types of accusations. Again.”
If someone doesn’t want a piece of me, they’re trying to get a piece of someone I know.
“This time around, my head isn’t on the chopping block, but I’m the executive producer of the show, so my name is dragged through the mud, alongside Matthew’s.
This drama has had a negative impact on my other companies.
” I rub my tired face with the palm of my hand and let out an audible breath.
“Blanche Hyman gives stage moms a bad rap.” Fucking fame-hungry bitch.
“She does,” Michaela says. “And she’s setting an appalling example for her daughter.”
“Are things still in limbo for your host?” Phoenix arches a brow.
I check my watch. “Within an hour, the publicity team will push out a press release. My show host is going to hold a press conference tomorrow to clear his name.”
“That’s tough, putting yourself out there like that,” Phoenix says.
“At least he’ll be able to shut up that horrible woman and her prima donna daughter,” Michaela says.
“That’s the plan.” I change the subject. “Thanks again for taking care of Lily. ”
The Pompadour Hotel has an irreproachable reputation, which is why I booked a room here for Lily. I don’t want her to complain about anything.
“It’s my pleasure,” she says. “Not long ago, I was a newcomer in LA. Without my best friend, I would’ve been lost.”
“So, I had no part in making your transition from the Big Apple to the City of Angels a smooth one, wife?”
Michaela swats Phoenix’s arm.
He chuckles.
I never thought I’d see the day when bachelor forever Phoenix settled down. Then again, there was a lot on the line for him.
“Poor Lily, there’s nothing worse than losing your luggage,” Michaela says. “It’s the most frustrating experience.”
That must’ve been a nightmare. “Was she able to get everything she needed?”
Michaela grins wide. “She’s a happy camper.”
“That’s good news,” I say. “I’m surprised Fisher hasn’t called me to either micromanage her arrival or voice his concerns over the media shit storm.”
Michaela tilts her head to the side. “He’s pissed off at Lily. That’s probably why he hasn’t called.”
I frown. “What makes you say that?”
Michaela leans into me. “A father who doesn’t acknowledge his daughter’s twenty-first birthday? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“What?” I’m dumbfounded.
I’m equally surprised by Michaela’s comment and the fact I didn’t even know Lily’s age. She wasn’t forthcoming during our text messages, and I wasn’t interested in knowing more than what she was willing to share .
“I had the same reaction when my wife told me,” Phoenix says.
Michaela shares the highlights of her earlier conversation with Lily.
“Unbelievable,” I say.
“I don’t know Fisher Edgington, but I don’t like him,” Michaela says. “If it wasn’t for poor customer service, I’d make sure Phoenix refuses him entry at any of our hotels.”
Michaela’s protectiveness of a mere stranger doesn’t go unnoticed.
I tolerate Fisher because I have to. I’d never peg the guy as warm and fuzzy, but what Michaela described makes me lose all respect for the man. I may have the reputation of being prickly, but I’m not a heartless son of a bitch.
“And, by the way, you had her last name wrong,” Michaela says.
“How so?”
She leans into me. “She goes by Lily Schuyler. Not Lily Edgington.”
My eyes widen in surprise.
The plot thickens…
I’m about to respond, but words escape me when, from my peripheral vision, a spot of soft pink catches my attention. My gaze moves to the entrance, where a bombshell breezes into the bar.
Holy fuck.
“Speaking of the beautiful swan… she appears,” Michaela says.
For the first time since entering the bar, I take note of the music playing in the background— La Vie en Rose.