10. Rae
10
RAE
O f the things that have changed since I got big, one hasn’t: Working on a song doesn’t get any easier.
Back at the hotel, I’m trying to prepare for my set at Bliss tomorrow night and experiment with new material. I keep reworking the melody, but it doesn’t have the vibe I want.
Last year, my tracks were moving towards a more joyful sound—stripped down harmonies, major chords.
Now, it’s more minors, but when I’m done, it feels thin rather than atmospheric.
Ash has gone out for a few hours, promising he’ll stay out of trouble. But now that he’s gone, work is harder because I keep thinking of someone else.
Harrison told me that his parents weren’t trying to get out of Mischa’s family’s business after all.
Harrison spent years deifying his parents only to watch the pedestal he’d put them on crumble. Learning that would fuck up a person. Especially when, that same day, Mischa burned down the club Harrison had spent months building.
He needed somewhere to put that anger, and turning it back on the man who caused all of this probably seemed a reasonable plan.
I wish he’d talked to me instead of leaving.
But it has me thinking that part of why he left was the man who has everything on paper still thinks he doesn’t deserve love.
Once, it was because his parents died and he felt responsible somehow. Now, he thinks he’s cut from the same cloth as they were.
I wish he could see that they must have loved him. Whatever they did and didn’t do, I’m grateful for that.
A text comes through, and I frown at it.
Annie: Has he shown yet?
I hit her contact on my phone, and she answers immediately on FaceTime.
“Hey.” Her gold eyes blink, faint circles beneath them hinting at long nights awake.
“Hey. Where’s Rose?”
“Uncle Beck’s putting her to sleep. He’s magic. If I’m lucky, she’ll be down for an hour.” She moves around her house. “Haley told me to document every moment because Rose will grow up so fast, but I don’t know how she found the time.”
“Maybe Jax took the pictures.”
Annie laughs silently. “Can you picture it? My dad, the paparazzo?”
I shift my notebook computer off my lap and lean forward, thinking back to her text. “How did you know Harrison would be here?”
She tucks a piece of hair behind her head. “Why would you think?—“
“Because you’re a romantic and you basically outed yourself already,” I tell her. “So fess up.”
Her nose scrunches. “Fine. Tyler and I saw Harrison in New York a few days ago, and I miiiight’ve shared that amazing photo of you and his brother in London.”
I huff. “That’s why he showed up jealous as hell.”
“Did he?” Her lips part, her eyes glazing over dreamily. “I want to know it all.”
“You don’t have enough testosterone-fueled bullshit in your life, you’re welcome to some of mine.”
“Please. Having a three-month-old isn’t great for your sex life. Or any life,” she admits.
“I could understand if you don’t want to have sex.”
“It’s not me. It’s Tyler,” she whispers. “He’ll stay up and rock the baby all night. Won’t complain once. Then he fell asleep on me last night.”
“On you.”
“On. Me,” she emphasizes.
“Huh.” I’m sure it’s temporary, because Tyler has seemed one heartbeat away from jumping his wife the entire time I’ve known them. I fill her in on Harrison’s arrival, giving more detail than I normally would.
“He hit him and then he kissed you?”
“Hit who and kissed who?” A familiar voice comes from out of speaker, and I sigh.
“Hey, Beck.”
The screen rotates, and a moment later, they’re both in frame.
Beck grins. “Hey, Little Queen.”
“Harrison hit his brother and kissed Rae,” Annie informs him.
“Damn. Serves that snotty prick right.”
“Who?” Annie asks.
“The brother. Pretty boy has no chill.” The derision in Beck’s voice is laced with something else, maybe from when Ash slammed Beck’s reality TV show the weekend we were all on the yacht last year for my birthday.
I think of Ash’s issues with drugs—if Beck only knew—but say nothing.
“He’s had a tough season. It’s a lot of pressure,” I hear myself say. “You’d like him if you gave him a chance.”
“Fortunately, I’ll never have to.”
Annie lifts a brow. “Anyway, Harrison’s back and you guys have made up.”
“Not quite.”
“I thought he kissed you,” Beck interjects. “Then things escalated from PG and you faded to black for our benefit.”
“Please don’t fade to black,” Annie begs.
I roll my eyes. “There might’ve been some mature situations. In the bathroom,” I go on when Annie makes a “give me more” motion with her hands. “Except things are complicated.”
Annie’s smile broadens. “Tyler and I did complicated. Your damage can’t be any worse.”
“He’s trying to bring down Mischa Ivanov, this business rival of his. The one who burned down his building. The problem is, I’m also trying to play Ivanov’s prize club.”
Beck whistles, and Annie’s jaw drops. “Rae, I agree with Harrison on this one.”
“But La Mer is everything I’ve dreamed of playing.”
“You could have fun playing other gigs, couldn’t you?” Annie asks.
“I don’t know. It hasn’t been fun lately,” I hear myself say without thinking. “The last six months, it’s felt more like phoning it in. Which is a fucking awful thing to say, but I wonder if I’ve done everything there is to do. Except La Mer.”
“So, once you play it, you can check it off your bucket list and take cover?”
Except when Annie says it, it doesn’t feel right.
I shake my head. “I don’t believe in revenge, but I agree this guy needs to be off the streets. Ibiza would be better off, his patrons would be better off, the music industry too. I’m playing other clubs. I get up in other peoples’ businesses in a way Harrison can’t.”
“Because you’re still hoping you two can ride off into the sunset on a yacht together?”
“He doesn’t like boats.”
“When he got you the yacht last year…”
“He thought I wanted it.”
Annie sighs, and even Beck’s brows pull together.
“What are you thinking?” I ask. I don’t usually solicit input, but next to my cousin, these two are my closest, most trusted friends. And unlike Callie, they understand the complications of living life in the spotlight.
“Queen’s gotta help her King,” Beck says wryly.
“It’s not about Harrison,” I insist. “It’s a public service. Anything I find, I’ll pass on to the police.”
“But if it gets you hurt,” Annie adds, “I will kill him.”
* * *
Your first night playing a club is partly a crapshoot—the crowd, the weather, all of it can conspire to make your set a party to remember or one to forget. The second night is when you find out if you’ve got it.
Tonight for Bliss, I choose a white dress that resembles leather but isn’t. It’s fitted, but the fabric has a little give so I can move, and it’s not as hot in the booth. White sandals top off the look.
“You’re coming with me?” I ask Ash as I put the finishing touches on my makeup.
“Think I’ll lay low for the evening.” He frowns. “All the talk about drugs… I’d rather keep my distance.”
Realization hits me. “Understood.” I check the edges of my wig to ensure none of my hair shows beneath. “I get that you didn’t want to tell Harrison you were buying, but why didn’t you tell him what you saw?”
“I’d rather not say. But it would hurt him if he knew.”
“I can keep a secret. I can be loyal to you as much as to him.”
“Yeah. But you shouldn’t have to be.” He comes up behind me, and his gaze meets mine in the mirror.
I fold my arms over my chest. “Just tell me one thing—are you talking with the police?”
He nods. “I told them I’d give them all I know. It’s not much, but it’s compelling.”
The reason he knew he was buying Mischa’s drugs in a London club still eludes me, but I trust him.
“Fine. Has Harrison said anything about the investigation into your parents?”
“No. Why?”
Fuck. That means Harrison’s been shouldering this alone for the better part of a year. “He was looking into it last year, back when he was still trying to buy La Mer from Christian.”
I brush past Ash and grab my phone, cursing as I realize I forgot to recharge it after my call with Annie and Beck. “Hey, did you do something to piss off Beck? You seem to have made an impression on him on the yacht last year.”
He shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts, his mouth twisting. “I seem to make terrible impressions on all men.”
“That asshole on your team doesn’t deserve you. You’ll find someone who does.”
Ash smirks. “I want someone I don’t deserve. Like Harry found.”
* * *
My chest tightens as I head to the show.
I snap a picture in the limo and post it to social. New habits, but already ingrained.
My fan base has grown and evolved. I can show up at a venue and find hundreds of people, sometimes thousands, there to see me. It’s humbling.
Sometimes it’s numbing too.
It’s one of the things I wish I could’ve talked to Harrison about over the past year. My friends understand the fame, but it’s not the same as sharing it with the man who sees me, challenges me, like no other.
When I get to the club, there’s already a crowd.
I get the owner in a corner. “The drugs sold in your club. You have to speak out about them.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I blink. “You told me the other day…”
But then I realize the truth. He won’t say a word. Harrison’s right.
By the time I take the stage, I’m already frustrated.
But I play my set, waiting to be swept up in it as I change from one track to the next. This club is twice the size of Debajo, and it’s nearly full. The crowd is loving me.
I should be loving this.
Pressed near the stage is a group in costume. A girl meets my gaze and dissolves into delighted screams. My attention pans to a guy dancing near her, who catches my eye and makes like he’s giving oral.
I turn away, needing a breather that’s impossible while on stage.
My thumb presses the tattoo on my wrist, the backs of my eyes burning.
Feel alive.
Be alive.
Get it together.
I turn back and motion to security. “Vodka soda.”
Then I throw myself into the rest of my set. I’m finishing the drink when movement in the far corner of the club catches my eye.
The same guy from before. Selling.
I look over at the manager at the bar. He knows it’s happening, and he doesn’t even try to stop it.
The woman from the front of the stage is there, buying.
I want to stop her. To say he’s bad news. But from here, I can’t. I’m the most powerful woman in the room, and I’m helpless.
I finish my set and do selfies with fans. I half wish the woman would come up since she seemed like a big fan. But there’s no sign of her.
Unsettled is the only thing I feel.
I’m headed out through the side door when I trip over something soft and lumpy. When I realize what it is, my stomach drops.
It’s a body. A person.
Horror rises up as I recognize the woman who was buying inside.
I drop to my knees, feeling for her pulse.
I should call for the club owner, but he won’t do anything to cross Mischa.
There’s one person I want to call, and I won’t even question my reasons for calling him.
* * *
When Harrison arrives, Toro driving, I’m still standing with the woman who was passed out near the side entrance of the club. Harrison stalks out of the car and takes in the scene, his expression grim and unusually blank.
It takes a moment for him to speak, and when he does, his voice is rough. “What the fuck happened? Who is she?”
“I don’t know who she is. But she overdosed on something.” I hold out what I found in her pockets. “I called for the owner after I called you. Management wouldn’t let me call an ambulance. They didn’t want the overdose traced back to Mischa.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Tourists overdose all the time. Could be the shit they’re dealing is cut with something else. Makes it cheaper to produce and more dangerous to consume.”
Harrison feels for her pulse, then looks around. Because we could be seen together, I realize. He’s risking everything being here.
It’s too late to change it.
We pile her into the back seat to take her to the hospital.
The doctors in Ibiza are used to overdoses, and they smoothly take over the second we bring her inside and establish how we found her. She’s in a coma, but I make them promise to let us know when her condition changes.
We head back out to the car, Harrison hanging his head.
Inside, Toro flicks a gaze back before pulling out onto the street. Despite his quiet presence, in that car, it’s just the two of us and the awful things we’ve seen tonight.
“Why did you call me?” Harrison asks.
I swallow hard. “Because you’re going after Mischa and I figured you would want to know firsthand what was happening.”
But that’s not true. I’d planned to tell the police, not Harrison.
Calling him was instinct. Something terrible happened, and he was the person I wanted at my side.
“Senor? Are you all right?”
I look between Toro and Harrison, who nods tightly. Then Toro buzzes up the partition.
“What’s going on?” I demand.
“Overdoses are hard. Since I found my parents dead.”
Shock slams into me, chased by grief.
He found them?
I assumed it had been a neighbor or someone who worked for them.
Now, I picture a college-aged Harrison bursting in the front door, pulling up at the grotesque sight.
“I’m so sorry.”
My eyes burn, my cheeks tingling with wetness.
“Don’t, Raegan. It’s not your fault.”
He’s stoic, controlled. Maybe this is how he became that way. Put in a position that left him feeling utterly helpless.
I touch his hair, smoothing my fingers through it. “This man is out there hurting people, and we have to stop him.”
He pulls me against him, and my face nestles into his suit jacket. The air between us is tight. With grief, with anger. His arms band around me like steel.
We don’t live in a safe world, but his resolve reminds me there are people who care about us. That we live in a world worth fighting for.
When we get to my hotel, I don’t move for a long time.
“You can’t come upstairs,” I whisper, his lapel scratching my lips.
His chest rises and falls rhythmically under my face. “Because of what happened tonight or because you don’t want me there?”
I pull back to look up at him through damp eyes. “Both.”
If we go up to that room together, it won’t only be sex.
It’ll be therapy.
No, church.
We’ll burn one another down to nothing and roll in the ashes before getting up tomorrow and putting clothes on whatever shambles of form remain. And I can’t risk that with him. We both have our own priorities, and they’re already dangerously intertwined.
“You deserve love, Harrison. No matter what your parents did, no matter what you did. I wish I could convince you of that, but you need to convince yourself. You deserve to be happy.”
“Just not with you.”
Fuck, that’s unfair. But he’s trying to push me away. I can see him now. He hides behind his own walls. Mine are high and protective. His are armored with barbs.
“You walked away from me. I loved you. I wanted to spend every day with you. Every damned hour. When you left, it broke me.”
My gaze falls to the crown inked on my wrist. “I wanted to remind myself of your confidence, your belief in me. You taught me that loving is worthwhile, even when you don’t get it back. That you can be the person you want to be, even when no one’s looking. Especially when no one’s looking. I will never forget that.”
His jaw works, his firm mouth parting in frustration. “I want you, Raegan. If I could tell you how many nights I’ve lain awake wanting you…But I don’t want to see you hurt anymore. I’ve caused you enough pain. If you ask me to stop, I’ll do it.”
I stare at him. He doesn’t take no for an answer from anyone, merely finds another way to get what he wants. But the expression on his face is earnest.
Mischa needs to be brought down. Tonight, I understand better than ever why this matters to Harrison, why it’s so personal he can’t let it go.
But letting him break my heart twice would be foolish and might ruin me.
I shift across his lap and grip the door handle. “Yes. Stop.”
I’m out of the car before I can take it back.