3. Rae
3
RAE
W hen the cab pulls up to the sandstone villa perched halfway up a winding road and sheltered by a lush hedge of greenery, I can’t help but appreciate its beauty.
Judging from the size, this villa is more like a boutique hotel than a resort. When I enter, backpack in tow, a woman looks up from where she’s vacuuming. I don’t spot a concierge or front desk, so I approach the woman.
“I’m supposed to be staying here tonight.” I reach for my passport, but she stops me.
Her face brightens as she clasps my hand between both of hers. “ Sí , senorita . I am Natalia.” Her voice is warm and welcoming. “I will show you your room.”
She leads me up a staircase and down a hall with doors on either side, half a dozen in total.
“This will meet your needs?” she asks as she opens a door.
I step into the room of pale-yellow walls, and beyond them are double doors opening to a balcony that overlooks the ocean. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
She nods before ducking out, closing the door.
The sight and the fresh scent of the water unlock my chest, a twisted knot wound tighter since my run-in with the devil himself.
I’m in another country without most of my possessions, and my only potential source of income is the man I hate.
But I know one thing—there’s no way I’m playing for him. I’ll walk into the sea first and never come back.
I pull out my phone, digging around to find the contract. His name’s not on it anywhere, but that’s not unusual for a large organization.
The amount I stand to lose by not playing has my stomach sinking.
I send the paperwork off to my lawyer anyway, asking how I can get out of it.
This gig was supposed to be my salvation. Instead, I’m being forced to play for the man I hate.
I’m used to traveling, but suddenly, I feel adrift.
I do a quick calculation of the time difference—six hours behind—before I hit a number on my phone.
“Hey!” Annie’s panting voice comes through the speaker. “You caught me in the midst of my morning stomach pyrotechnics.”
“Hardly seems fair Tyler’s on tour and you’ve been hugging a toilet for the last two weeks.”
My roommate from arts school and her rock-star husband are going to be parents in less than five months.
“Don’t worry. He’ll be making it up to me.”
Her breezy tone has me shaking my head. I have no doubt she’ll tell him what she wants. Or that he’ll move mountains to give it to her. Their relationship is almost enough to make me believe in love.
“I was going to ask if you had a chance to lay down vocals for that track I was working on.”
“I need one more listen before I send it over,” she promises. “Now please distract me so I don’t think about how every smell in our house makes me want to upchuck.”
Her earnest plea makes my mouth twitch.
“I just got into Ibiza.” I flop down on the double bed, which gives gently under my weight. The fabric smells fresh—not from-a-can fresh either. “But the residency gig isn’t what I signed on for.”
Telling her the full extent of what’s going down might upset her or, worse, make her try to intervene.
I don’t need her solving my problems. Both because I can solve them myself and because she knows what went down between Harrison and me.
We met at her wedding.
And Harrison King is a friend of her husband’s.
As unlikely as it seems that the man who glowered down at me today has any friends, evidently Tyler Adams, a guy I went to school with and respect, met him on tour and they formed a genuine bond.
Annie makes a noise of sympathy. “If it’s anything like doing a show on Broadway, it’s exhausting and scary but rewarding too.”
Doubtful.
“Where’s Mr. Tall, Dark, and Broody?” I change the subject.
“Tyler’s in Amsterdam this week. Since the honeymoon, I’ve been going into travel withdrawal. I heard Ibiza is beautiful.”
My feet carry me out to the balcony. My finger trails along the sandstone half wall as I inhale the fresh air.
“Only if you’re into fresh air, crystal-blue waters, beautiful people, and partying.”
She laughs. “Hard to imagine anything could ruin that. You deserve it. I don’t think you’ve stayed in one place for a month since college.”
The problem with staying in one place is you get attached to it. You expect things of the people around you.
I learned early how dangerous and destructive that can be.
“Listen,” I start, “I should let you go. But it’s good to hear your childish enthusiasm. You want a souvenir?”
“Bring me back a good story and we’ll call it even.”
I click off and stare at the water.
Harrison’s right about one thing—I can’t leave without a plan. Right now, if he wants to go after me legally, I have no doubt he’d win.
Annie wants a story.
I might be young, but I’m not powerless.
I won’t run from this villain.
Not without getting a few swings in first.
Harrison King might be the man with the money.
But I’m the girl with the mic.
A light knock at the door has me turning back toward the room as Natalia comes in, a perplexed look on her face. “Where are your bags?”
“The airline lost them.”
Her eyes widen. “ Dios mío . I can take you shopping, if you like, or send you to the best boutiques.”
I cross to the middle of the room and look down at my clothes. I need something to wear tonight if I’m not leaving today. “Maybe not the best boutiques,” I warn because that sounds expensive. “If I called them and told them what I wanted, could they send a few items over?”
“Of course.”
“Including a wig,” I say, setting my phone on the dresser and tugging out the half-assed bun I made on the side of the road an hour ago. “Blond,” I decide.
If it’s a strange request, she doesn’t balk. “You should go to the beach. We also have a pool and a jacuzzi. Enjoy yourself before you have to work. You’re too young to look so serious.”
Inspired, I reach for my computer.
Natalia is right. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself a little.
Defiance flows through my veins as I send off a quick text to Annie with some lyrics for a new verse.
My contract says I’ll play for Harrison King.
It doesn’t say I have to do it nicely.