Chapter 15
15
Valerie
Today sucks.
After Caleb left, we all dispersed to our rooms, the mood significantly dampened. Keeley asked if I wanted to hang out, but I lied and said I needed to shave my legs. Instead, I’m hiding out in my hotel room, curtains closed against the too-bright sun, pacing a line into the plush carpet.
My mom stole from us . It might have been legal, but that doesn’t make it right. Part of me wants to wait out the contract and make another album just to spite her. Getting that news from Wade should have made me sick—but it felt like my first glimpse at true freedom.
I refuse to owe Tonya Quinn another damn thing.
If I could make a new album with full creative control, I wouldn’t feel so much pressure to survive in TV. Epic Theme Song taught me to enjoy acting, at least a little, but all of this desperation to save the show? It’s because I feel like I have no other options. I didn’t go to college. I have money in savings, but I don’t want to be a washed-up has-been before I even turn thirty, living off conventions or begging for a spot on one of those dancing competitions for former stars losing their shine.
I want to keep making art that matters to people.
Returning to Epic Theme Song wouldn’t feel so dire if we could be the Glitter Bats again for good—but better, because Label wouldn’t be trying to mold us into these people we weren’t. We could start fresh. I’d have a direction for my future I could get excited about. The problem is, I presented this all wrong, again, and I scared Caleb off.
Just like I did when I rejected his proposal all those years ago.
At least today was a scheduled day off from practicing, because none of us are up for it, even with the concert a month out. The mood soured even more at brunch after Caleb left. Jane called her agent. Keeley ran down to the gym. Riker just started pouring a mimosa that was all champagne. It was clear we’d get nothing done today. We’ve all been going nonstop, and Caleb’s not in the right headspace. When I pace over by his door, I can’t hear him shuffling around, so he must still be out on a run. I hope he doesn’t hate me now.
Last night, it felt like everything between us could be right again.
I don’t know how I survived so long without his friendship. It’s not like I expect him to rekindle our romantic relationship—I know I hurt him too much for that to ever be a real possibility again—but it felt like we were friends, at least.
The other feelings are there too. Even totally exhausted, being wrapped up in his arms again was almost too much. My skin melted at his touch, just the way it did all those years ago. Maybe I never stopped loving him, but that’s okay. I can love him like this too.
I’d happily pine after him for the rest of my life if it meant hanging on to our friendship.
I sink to the floor and groan, pulling up the article that’s been hanging over my head…again. As if any of this wasn’t difficult enough, of course, Theo opened his big mouth—I’m starting to think he has Gossip Daily on retainer. Ryan Tate has always been a problem, and when I watch the two of them together all I can see is obnoxious trust fund–boy energy. Like they’re entitled to the world.
They know they can say whatever they want, and screw the consequences to other people’s lives. I wish I understood what I did to make Theo want to destroy me. Hell, he’s the one who said long distance wouldn’t work.
We were together for only six months, and it was mostly to be each other’s dates to award shows and premieres. I mean, I guess we had fun. The sex was mediocre (he thinks foreplay is optional and rarely reciprocated oral), and he was always a little too excited about the fact that I’m bisexual (almost as if my attraction to people is a reason to objectify me). But we laughed enough that it was worth playing out. Or so I thought.
He’s doing what he accused me of in the latest article: using the media to further his career. If anything, it should be obvious to the public that he’s just another loud person trying to cling to relevance as the Fantastical Mysts hype wanes. He doesn’t care who he hurts in the process.
No matter. I’ll just have to strategize with Wade to figure out how to reset the narrative. I know the publicity team has already been working overtime on my reputation.
But Theo Blake isn’t my biggest villain today. No, that honor rests solely on my mother’s shoulders. I try to spend the rest of the morning taking care of myself. I tidy my suitcase; try to meditate; take a long, luxurious bubble bath; meticulously rewash my face and hair—none of it works. I still feel dirty, tainted.
Used.
Because what kind of mother steals from her own kid? Those royalties belong to the band. Tonya isn’t really much of a mother at all—she’s just one more vampire trying to take something from me, and I’m tired of it. Once I’ve dried and styled my hair and put on a new face full of makeup, I swallow down my nerves, pop in my AirPods, and call her.
“Valerie, good, I was hoping you’d come to your senses.”
That’s just like Tonya. No greeting, no recognition. Just straight to the topic that interests her today.
Pulse racing at the impending confrontation, I swallow, sinking onto the bed. “Hi, Mom.”
“Have you already called Gina about writing and recording your next album, or should I? I know studio space is at a premium right now, but I’m sure she can bump someone, get this out before the concert.”
My stomach twists. “We’re not recording an album we haven’t written yet in less than four weeks. That’s impossible.” We’re not recording an album at all .
Mom huffs, as if my objection is ridiculous. “If you just buckled down and focused, it wouldn’t be that difficult. I’m telling you—you need to work as hard as Taylor Swift if you want to survive in this industry.”
This is what my mom expects—unattainable levels of productivity. She wants me to meet impossible standards when it benefits her.
“Taylor Swift is one of the most prolific songwriters in our generation, and…” I clench my fists. “You know what? No. I’m not going to try to reason with you. We need to talk about that contract with Label Records.”
She lets out an audible breath. “Absolutely. You owe them an album, and you need to meet your obligations.”
Wow. My head swims at her audacity. “No, I don’t.” My jaw clenches, and I pop up from my seat on the floor to resume pacing. “That contract expires the day after the concert—but you only want us to make an album because it’s your last chance to squeeze money out of us.” Blood rushes in my ears. “What the hell did you do with all those royalties?”
My voice shakes as I say it. I know she never wanted me to find out. She wanted to just coast on my success for the rest of her life.
“Excuse me? You think it’s unreasonable that I want to get paid for my work? I quit my job for your band! How was I supposed to put food on the table if I wasn’t getting a steady paycheck?”
And here she is, making herself a martyr. I ball my fists. “No one asked you to quit your job! You inserted yourself into the Glitter Bats and started trying to control everything.”
She lets out a humph. “You were children . Someone had to make sure you weren’t completely taken advantage of.”
“By someone else,” I say, my hands trembling as the adrenaline hits.
“What?”
Blood rushes in my ears. “You made sure we weren’t taken advantage of by someone else , because you were doing it already. I don’t care if the contract was legal—it’s wrong!”
“Oh, Valerie, you sound hysterical. Do you need to go refill your prescription? At least take a drink, honey.”
I slam my fist down on the comforter. I cannot believe her. “I read the contract. You can’t pretend you’re innocent here. Stop gaslighting me.”
“Gaslighting? Your generation is so paranoid.” She laughs. “You just need to fulfill your obligations, sweetheart. Someone needed to take care of you back then. You were so impressionable. And who better than your own flesh and blood to protect you? I put so much time into your career. You owe me another album.”
My throat tightens, but I refuse to cry. She’ll be able to hear it in my voice and then she’ll just call me weak. “I don’t owe you shit .”
She huffs so loudly I can hear it through the speaker. Her voice turns sharp. “You know, you’re lucky I’ve only taken a few of the many talent management jobs I’ve been offered over the years. I could easily be working with your competition.”
Not sure who she means by my competition, but I don’t even care. I wish I knew how to hurt her the way she’s hurt me.
But she still somehow holds all the power.
“What do I care? You’re not my manager anymore.”
She sighs. “Call me when you’ve calmed down—you’re being so goddamn emotional right now, it’s embarrassing.”
I hang up before she can do the honors. Sometimes, I wonder what it’s like to have a mother who isn’t like this: selfish, controlling, emotionally manipulative. But wondering won’t fix all the broken things between us—she shattered any last trust between us years ago.
That contract, though—it just proves everything I already knew. I’m not a daughter to her—I’m an opportunity.
I fire off a quick text to Wade:
Me: Can you please tell security my mother is persona non grata? Probably best to tell the hotel too.
Our security is pretty minimal, but we do usually have someone posted to this floor. The last thing I need is Mom sneaking into my room.
Wade takes a few minutes to reply, and I hope it means he’s spending time with his family. Or god, taking care of other clients. I’m sure I take more time than he bargained for when we first signed with him.
Wade: Consider it done. You okay, kid?
Me: No, but I will be.
I’ve been letting other people control me—and the narrative—for so long, and I’m done being told what I can and can’t do. Before I can think better of it, I send another text.
Me: You wanted some exclusives, right? How about one-on-one with me?
This response comes right away.
Mary Kate Hampton: YES! Name the time and place. Hell, I’m free today.
My palms go damp—because really, today?—but I’d rather get this over with.
Me: That’s perfect. What about my hotel bar, 4pm? I’ll send you the info.
Mary Kate Hampton: Riker already let slip where you’re staying. I’ve got you in my calendar.
As soon as I have a plan, I do finally hear shuffling next door. Really, for such a fancy hotel, you’d think the insulation would be better, but maybe it’s just because our rooms share a door. My stomach twists, and I worry maybe I was trying to control Caleb the same way my mother was controlling me. But I don’t go bother him right away. Instead, I listen for the shower, and try not to listen too hard, or think about hot water dripping down his muscled torso…
Nope. Not going there.
But finally, I hear the shower turn off. I give Caleb a few minutes to get dressed, and then I head to the door connecting our two rooms. He knocks before I get the chance.
I swing the door open immediately. Caleb’s waves are damp, and the scent of herbal bodywash radiates off his skin, like a sweater I want to wrap myself up in. But instead of moving closer to him the way every part of me craves, I hang back.
“Hi,” I say.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I blink, stunned. “What? I’m the one who owes you an apology.”
He runs a hand over his hair. “No, you don’t. You were just trying to share information this morning, and I panicked. It’s not fair of me to shut down any conversations about the future of this band without hearing you all out. I need to…stop running away whenever we talk about hard things.” He clears his throat. “And, uh, singing ‘Daydreams’ at the concert is a really good idea. It would be really special for the fans. We’ll just follow Wade’s instructions and be careful.”
I bite my lip, bracing against the guilt. I can’t believe I put him in this situation. “You said you were done, and that means I need to respect your boundaries.”
He frowns, crossing his arms. “Well, I thought I was done, but something about being back in the city, making music with the band again, writing with you… I don’t think I realized how much I wanted it.”
“Oh,” I say, because I don’t know what else there is to say. I’m too scared to hope for more, but my chest warms at the thought. “So what are you saying?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. But I’m going to try to be more open instead of so bitter and wounded all of the time. No matter what we decide, we should all decide it together.”
“Right, that sounds good,” I say, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. This is better news than I ever thought I’d get, but my mind is a mess. I don’t want to pressure Caleb the way my mom is trying to pressure me.
His arms fall back to his sides, and he steps just a bit closer to me. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“No,” I admit. And then the hell of today all comes out in a rush. “I tried to confront my mom just now, and she totally dismissed me. But even before that, Theo was running his mouth in front of the media again, and I’m so tired of him controlling the narrative. I texted Mary Kate to do an exclusive tonight. I’m meeting her down at the hotel bar in an hour.”
“Holy shit. That’s a big step,” he says.
“Yeah, I just think it’s time I stopped trying to give them something to say about me. I need to use my own voice.”
He grins. “That’s the Valerie I used to know.”
Warmth radiates through my chest at the fondness in his gaze. “She never left, just lost her way a bit.”
“Do you want some backup?”