16. Chapter Sixteen #2
“Has your sister eased up about Ricky?”
I’d broken down and told Amy, not about the debt but about Ricky’s various betrayals and my sister’s suggestion that the relationship could still be saved.
Without the constant contact with Pasha, I’d been lonely, and I’d needed to talk about something, get at least a piece of the weight off my chest. Instead of laughing at my foolishness, Amy had looked me in the eyes and said, “You deserve better. Hold onto that, okay? You deserve better.”
“She’s brought him up a few times in the last week.
She’s gotta be talking to him regularly, or Kevin is, which means they know where he is.
I don’t want to think about it. The tour, the wedding, and then I can focus on my dumpster fire of a personal life.
” I drained the last of my drink, and Amy took my cup.
“You going to the bar?” Maria asked from beside the table.
“Amy is,” I said as my phone vibrated again.
“You look like you’re having a shitty time.” Maria gestured to my overturned phone and how I’d chipped the polish off my nails. “Come to the bar with me. The bartender is a bit of a flirt. Good for an entertaining conversation. It’s not too busy yet. Stretch your ankle.”
“Yeah, okay,” I agreed.
Amy slid me twenty dollars for the drinks, since I’d bought the last round. When I first put weight on my ankle, I winced. Maria stayed beside me until I could hobble to the bar in the far corner without too much pain.
I slid onto a stool at the bar and chatted with Maria while the bartender filled other people’s drinks.
When he got to them, his banter was cute enough to elicit a smile, and when Maria had our drinks, I opted to sit at the bar for a while.
Switching off my brain and engaging in some mindless banter wouldn’t be so bad.
“I can read life lines,” Chris, the bartender, said with a grin.
“Life lines?” I gave him an amused look over the rim of my glass. “Wanna read mine?” I laid my hand flat on the bar, palm up.
He cradled my hand in his and traced his finger along the creases. “Well, it looks—”
The VIP area erupted into gasps and a smattering of applause. I turned slightly to catch a glimpse of whoever had entered.
On the threshold of the VIP area were Mia and Tyler with their hands clasped, and in front of them was Pasha, glaring the room down, Gerald beside him. My heart jumped into my throat, and a flush rose to my cheeks. The sight of him was a knife twisting in my gut. Our eyes locked.
As far as I knew, Mia hadn’t booked an appearance, and bringing Tyler along was even rarer.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from getting out of my seat and making a scene by either falling at Pasha’s feet or absolutely unleashing my pent-up rage at his behavior.
Instead, I turned back to Chris, the bartender, and smiled. “You were saying?”
“You work for her, right?” Chris tipped his head in Mia’s direction.
“Yep.” I suppressed a sigh. The sight of Mia usually went one of two ways—people either pretended they didn’t care or cared entirely too much. Chris was going to be a guy who cared. I could feel it .
“How long do you give her and her fiancé? Want to bet it’s a year or two tops? These celeb pairings never work out. Isn’t there twenty years between them or something?”
I raised my eyebrows and took a drink from my glass, slipping off the stool.
“Not quite. Might want to check your celeb-gossip site.” I tucked my phone into my back pocket.
“She’s a great employer, and he’s a really good guy.
I wouldn’t want to bet on them not making it.
If they can’t make it work, the rest of us are doomed. They really love each other.”
A few months ago, I might have indulged the guy in his need for gossip. Said little. Listened a lot. Not anymore. After everything Mia had done for me, I understood she deserved my loyalty, not my gossip.
The first step after having sat with my feet dangling was painful, and I had to stand for a minute with both feet bearing weight before I could even attempt to walk back to the dancers’ table.
“Ahh,” Mia cried, bouncing up to me. “You’re here, and you’re off your crutches.”
I smiled and avoided making eye contact with Pasha and Tyler, who were following her.
Gerald had stayed back by the entrance to the VIP section, probably vetting anyone who dared to gate-crash until Mia and Tyler left.
“I have a brace now.” I stuck out my foot, which showed my flat shoes and the matching black brace.
“Where are you sitting?” Mia scanned the VIP area and then seemed to catch sight of everyone else.
“It’s so nice to be here because I want to be here and not because I’m being paid or for my fans.
I just really wanted a night to hang out with everyone.
” She reached back for Tyler’s hand, and he came to her side.
“Do you think everyone will mind if we sit with them?”
“Not at all,” I said, leading the way to the huge booth .
Mia wasn’t as uptight as she’d been on the last tour, when her mother was running the show.
Unless she’d been drinking or on something, she’d been hard to be around.
She’d never felt like a fully realized person to me.
She’d been a puppet with her mother pulling the strings, and once those strings were cut, Mia hadn’t collapsed; she’d learned to soar.
On this tour, everything had been different. In many ways, Mia’d become more like a friend than a boss, even if I was still very aware of our dynamic, of the fact that she could fire me at any moment for any reason.
As we approached the table, people began to shuffle around, making space for me, and when it became apparent that Mia and Tyler might stay as well, the scramble to make room became more frantic.
“I won’t stay all night,” Mia said, sliding into the booth and dragging Tyler behind her. “I promise.”
I squeezed into the end of the booth on the other side beside a man I didn’t recognize.
He thrust his hand in my direction and introduced himself.
I was only half paying attention as he began to talk because Pasha was hovering not far from the booth and almost directly in my line of sight.
I wasn’t going to let his presence ruin a good time.
I flicked my hair over my shoulder and leaned into the guy next to me, determined to give him my focus.