Chapter 12
Twelve
Ella
So this is Sebastian’s place.
I expected the stark manliness of it, with its tasteful, muted tone furniture and black and white portraits of musicians on the walls. I expected to find guitars here, and scribbled notes on random pieces of paper.
I didn’t expect to find another woman.
She stands gracefully, her straight blond hair swinging forward with each step as she approaches, her hand held out. She’s wearing a pair of jeans and a silk blouse with a leather jacket. Her hoop earrings are encrusted with what I am certain are real diamonds.
“Hello,” she says smoothly. “I’m Trina Jack, Bastian’s agent. Please call me Trina.”
“Hi,” I say, holding out a shaking hand. “I’m Ella Marchand. I’m…” I’m what? Would Sebastian want me to introduce myself as his girlfriend?
Before I can make up my mind on what to say, Trina speaks again, addressing Sebastian. “She’s not so random after all, is she?”
He breathes very carefully, as if he’s hiding a sigh. “No.”
“Random?” I ask.
“I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” Trina says, giving me a brittle smile. “I saw footage of you singing together at the karaoke bar. Of course, I asked Bastian all about it, but he never once told me that he knows you.”
My mind is whirling, and I’m trying to make sense of this situation.
I thought I was coming over here to listen to Sebastian’s new song.
I thought we’d kiss, and possibly enjoy a quickie, depending on how long the music conversation went.
I did not expect to be confronted with his very attractive agent who is giving me the strangest look right now.
My brain is still trying to catch up with reality not meeting my expectations.
Sebastian squeezes my hand.
“We’re seeing each other,” Sebastian tells Trina. “I wasn’t ready to talk about it.”
Trina shakes her finger at him. “You could’ve saved me a lot of time. Ella, I’ve spent the past few days trying to track you down.”
The blond hair, the person listening at the door of the practice room on Sunday… “Was that you?” I ask. “Did you come to the university?”
“Yes,” she says. “I apologize if I scared you.”
If she scared me. I was damn near terrified. But she’s an agent . Having an agent could help my dreams come true. “You were looking for me?”
“Yep.” She smiles. “It’s sort of my job to find and nurture talent, and when I heard you singing with Bastian, here, I wanted to track you down. Of course, that would’ve been a lot easier, Bastian, if you’d just told me. But, forgive and forget, right?”
He looks up at her then, and if I thought I was terrified at Kanno Hall four days ago, it can’t have been near as bad as whatever’s going through Sebastian’s mind right now. He looks like he’s on the gallows, a dead man walking.
And why didn’t he tell Trina about me? Just now, he said he wasn’t ready to talk about our relationship. Sounds like a pretty weak excuse to me.
Does he not want me working with his agent?
That’s the only other reason I can think of that he would look like this.
I mean, I know I’m not up to his caliber, but the way we’ve been swapping notes the past few days—lyrics, music, ideas—has been amazing.
I’ve learned so much just in this short time, every text a new revelation, every bit of feedback serving as inspiration.
Now, he taps out a rhythm on the counter where he leans, carefully avoiding my eyes.
Trina looks between him and me. “Well, I have an idea that I’ve been sitting on for days, and since you’re both here, I may as well just throw it at you.”
“Read the room, Trina,” Sebastian mutters.
She either doesn’t hear him or ignores him entirely, and maybe I feel totally at odds here, but I have to admire that she just smiles and continues like he didn’t speak. This is a woman who goes after what she wants.
“So, you two went viral singing together. What do you think about collaborating? Releasing an original song together? Or hell, do a cover, I don’t care. You could re-release one of Bastian’s songs, cover someone else’s, or work together on an all-new track. Thoughts?”
My heart leaps in excitement. An agent. An honest-to-god agent is offering me an opportunity the likes of which I had never even dared dream of.
But Sebastian keeps tapping out a rhythm. One, two, three-and-four-and. Over and over.
“I guess we’ll have to think about it,” I say.
Sebastian finally looks over at me, his hazel eyes soft. “Yeah. We’ll think about it.”
He’s already decided…and he’s decided no.
Of course he wouldn’t want to sing with me. I’m an amateur. He’s a rockstar. My one claim to fame is, what, harmonizing with him in some tiny karaoke bar? Yeah, that’s hardly the kind of person he needs riding on his coattails.
“Anyway, I have a shift over at Dorado Terrace,” I say. I’m so desperate to leave, I will go in to work early today. “I should get going.”
“I’ll call Kellan to give you a ride,” Sebastian says.
Is he happy that I’m excusing myself? He seems relieved. Shit.
“It’s like a three-minute walk,” I say, forcing a smile. “Thanks anyway, though.”
Trina takes a step toward me.
Sebastian moves as if to intercept her, and she frowns at him.
“Here’s my card.” She holds out a piece of heavy cardstock. “My cell is on there. Call or text anytime, you can always reach me. My clients frequently need me, not just for business advice, but personal emergencies. Sebastian can tell you—I’ll help solve any problem.”
Sebastian flinches. Righting himself quickly, and keeping his face suspiciously blank, he hurries toward me, takes my hand, and leads me to the elevator.
His kiss is faint on my cheek. “See you soon, Ella,” he whispers as the doors close.
The only thing I can think of is the truth, banging over and over in my head like a hammer.
Sebastian doesn’t want to sing with me. He doesn’t want to work with me.
A dark weight settles over my chest and it’s all I can do to remain standing while the elevator takes me down.
Kingston
The name flashing on my phone is familiar, but it takes me a moment to place it. Lin Rosewood . Her face comes to mind before anything else—pointed chin, full lips, a beauty mark at the corner of her mouth, and her brown hair, last I saw it, longer on one side with an undercut on the other.
Oh, shit, it’s Bash’s cousin. I answer quickly. “Hi, Lin.”
“Kingston, how’s it going?”
The question is casual, so I’m immediately reassured. “It’s okay. You?”
“Fine, work, you know the drill.”
“Where are you at again?”
“Ironwood Security.”
She left the police force to go into the private sector, but I never put two and two together that she was working for Ironwood.
“Nice.” I stare out my window, looking over the city. Evening has come, dulling everything in gray-blue. “I’m somewhat acquainted with the owners.”
“They’re good people,” she says. “Anyway, sorry to bug you, but I’m trying to get in touch with Bash. He’s not answering, and neither is the woman, Ella, who he wanted me to call. He told me I can call you any time, so…yeah. I found Ella’s brother.”
“Tell me he’s okay,” I say. It’ll break Ella if he isn’t.
“He’s fine.”
“Where is he? I’m going to drag his ass back to his sister.”
Ella
I’m waiting by my door when Kingston and Tommy come up. I hear their footsteps outside and open my door before they can knock.
“Tommy!” I yell, hugging him tightly.
“Hey,” he says, hugging me back.
Then I let him go and slug him in the arm.
“Ow!” he says loudly, rubbing what I hope will become a big-ass bruise.
“Come inside,” I say, suddenly worried about waking up my neighbors.
It’s late. My feet are aching after a double shift—cleaning at Dorado Terrace followed by a brutally long shift at Bartleby’s.
Kingston sent me a text when I was halfway home on the bus, telling me he was bringing Tommy to my apartment.
And here they are.
Kingston hesitates in the doorway. “I want to give you some privacy,” he says.
But I don’t want him to leave.
“Do you want me to wait out here?” he asks.
“My bedroom?” I say.
“Sure.”
I’m no longer embarrassed at how poor I must seem compared to him. He hasn’t ever made me feel bad about it.
With a nod and a warning look at Tommy, Kingston strides down the hallway like he is completely at ease.
Tommy frowns after him.
I turn to face my brother and punch him again.
“What’d you do that for?” he asks.
“Where the fuck have you been?” I ask.
“Around. Dealing with stuff.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh. Cool. Dealing with stuff. Do you know how many times I called and texted you?”
“Dude, you’re not my mom, E. Chill out.”
“I was worried. You and me, Tommy, we’re all we have.”
He has to feel that, doesn’t he? He can’t just disappear on me like this. My gaze flicks to the empty place in the tiny room, where my keyboard used to sit.
Tommy’s focus follows mine. He doesn’t look surprised as he asks, “Um, what happened to your keyboard?”
“Like you don’t know,” I say. My relief at finding him alive transforms into bitterness.
“I swear,” Tommy says, “I didn’t take your keyboard.”
There aren’t any of his usual tells, the quick glance to the side, the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. I know when my brother is lying, and right now, he isn’t.
But there’s more to it. I know my brother better than anyone, and I can tell from his face. There’s something he isn’t saying.
I hold his gaze, letting him see I mean fucking business. His blue eyes are hard, determined, but I see the moment he breaks.
“Fine,” he says with a big sigh, “I told the guys about it. I was worried they were going to hurt you, Ella. So I waited until I knew you’d be at work, and then I told them you had the keyboard, okay?”
Even though I expected this, even though I was prepared, it doesn’t take away the tight sensation in my gut, like I’ve just been kicked. My lungs constrict. I can’t look away from Tommy, although I want nothing more than for him to be out of my sight.
He has betrayed me, over and over again, and yet in the name of loving my brother, I keep letting him back into my heart.
“I was so worried about you,” I say, unable to stop the tears rolling down my cheeks. I swipe at them angrily, because the last thing I want right now is to look too emotional. Because this decision, right here, right now, is based in logic.
Someone kicks me, over and over again, whether figuratively or literally, then I need to get that person the fuck out of my life.
Instead of looking at his face, I focus on his shoes, the ratty laces tied into knots because he never wants to take the time to do a bow, so he just slips his sneakers on and off.
“You’re still my brother,” I tell his shoes, “but we’re not hanging out anymore. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to hear from you.”
He steps back as if I’ve struck him. “Never?”
This would break our father’s heart. I can’t say never. “Not never,” I say, “but a good long while.”
“You mean never ,” he says. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t understand. It’s why I hid, Ella. I’m trying to protect you.”
“You could protect me by going to the motherfucking police! Turn in the goons you owe money to. Ask for help from people who are equipped to help you, rather than stealing from me when I have nothing .”
“You have rich-as-fuck sugar daddy,” he says, gesturing with his chin toward my bedroom.
He’s starting to sound like Joel, judging me for who I’m having sex with. Anger washes over and through me, coating everything in a red haze.
“Get the fuck away from me,” I say. “Maybe it is never . I don’t know right now. All I know is I can’t stand the sight of you. You’ve hurt me over and over again, Tommy, and it stops now.”
“Fine,” he says, “if you’re going to be such a cow, I’ll leave. Don’t expect me to come running every time you text or call.”
“Oh, you’ve proven you won’t already,” I say.
Shaking his head, Tommy yanks open my door and leaves the apartment.
Damn him.
I start to sink into my crappy sofa when I remember that Kingston is still here, waiting in my room. I’m halfway there when he opens my bedroom door.
“I heard him leave.”
“You probably heard everything,” I say, moving toward him even though I’m afraid he’s going to distance himself from me.
He nods. A small smile plays on his lips, made handsomer by the whiskers highlighting his face. “He was wrong, though. I only wish I was your sugar daddy.”
I can’t help it—I laugh.
“I’d give you the world if you’d let me.” He grabs my hand and tugs me to him.
Pressing myself against him, feeling how hard he is already, I whisper, “You already have.”
“You know I don’t care about where you come from or where you live,” he whispers, spinning us around and backing me toward the bed. “I only care about who you are. And Ella, I’m falling in love with you. Let me?”
I reach into his pants, feel how hard he is, the skin smooth, stretched over his impressive length. “Yes,” I whisper. “I’ll let you. Because I’m falling in love with you, too.”
We haven’t talked much about the other terrible part of my day—when Sebastian was clear that he didn’t want me working with his agent. My heart’s been shredded and battered multiple times today.
But here in Kingston’s arms, in my tiny, creaky bed, I can feel myself coming back together again.
“Open your legs for me, sweetheart,” he groans. “Let Daddy in.”