Chapter 13
Thirteen
Kingston
Something happened between Ella and Sebastian. I knew when she didn’t act excited about the prospect of me inviting him over to my place along with her last night. I didn’t push the matter, because she’d just had that gut wrenching conversation with her dipshit of a brother.
But no more.
And this time, I’m going to the source of the problem. I tell my personal assistant that I’m taking a long lunch break, then I call Garth to give me a ride to Bash’s place.
Sebastian doesn’t answer when I text that I’m on my way, but something tells me he’ll be home. I think he’s been hiding out…and I aim to find out why.
He and I both have keys and access codes to each other’s homes, so I let myself into Sebastian’s apartment. All is quiet—he’s not sitting on the couch and playing guitar or watching TV. Cocking my head, I listen and pick up faint sounds of the shower running, so I sit down to wait.
A few minutes later, the shower stops. He pads into the living room wearing a towel around his waist and running a second towel over his head.
“Bash,” I say, before he’s had a chance to see me.
He shrieks like a surprised preschooler.
I throw my head back and laugh.
“Fuck, you scared me,” he says, shaking his head and whipping the towel toward me.
“It’s not like I was hiding,” I say. “And I think you’re extra jumpy.”
“Yeah, well, Trina’s in town.”
“More on that in a bit,” I say. “What happened between you and Ella?”
“You’ve talked to her?”
“She is our girlfriend.”
“Let me put on some pants and I’ll tell you everything.” He goes back to his room and emerges a minute later, thankfully wearing some pants and tugging a t-shirt over his head.
“So,” I say. “Ella seemed down. I haven’t talked to her about it, but I know it has to do with you, so let’s just clear the air.”
“Is she working right now?” he asks. “She should be here for this.”
“You’re right, but yeah, she’s probably on her way to the pub right now.”
Sighing, he says, “Short story—Trina wants to work with Ella. She wants Ella and me to do a song together. But I don’t know, something in me just revolts at the idea of Ella and Trina working together.”
“Is it because you haven’t talked to Ella about that night?”
“Fair question, but I don’t think so.”
“You should talk to Ella,” I say. “And why didn’t you just fucking talk to me about this before? I had to corner you here, and not only that, you’ve upset our girl.”
He closes his eyes and leans back into the sofa. “Fuck, I don’t know.”
“I have a guess,” I say. “It’s because you knew I’d tell you to let go of Trina and find a new agent.”
He opens one eye and looks over at me, scowling. “You’re probably right. You’ve never liked her.”
“And you’re loyal to a fault. The woman is bad news. I don’t like how she handled things before. And if she’s filling Ella’s head with that kind of nonsense, too, well, I’m not going to allow this.”
“You might be Ella’s daddy, but you’re not my dad,” Bash says.
“The fact that you sound like a sulky teenager when you say that tells me you need me to be your dad right now.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he says. “Seriously. I’ve got this figured out, so mind your own business.”
I hold up my hands. “Fine. Just two last things. Fix things with Ella. And yeah, ditch Trina. She’s no good for you. I don’t want her representing Ella’s interests, either, but I can talk to Ella about that. And maybe you should, too.”
“Ella can make her own choices.”
“Yeah, but she’ll look up to you as having more experience and knowledge in the industry. You remaining with Trina is tacit endorsement of Trina as an agent.”
He puts his hands over his face. “Fuck, you’re right.”
I know I’m right, so I don’t rub it in.
Sebastian
I don’t waste any time. As soon as King leaves, I text Trina, asking her to meet me at an upscale pub downtown. My stomach churns with dread as Kellan drives me there.
This conversation is going to suck. And Trina has the potential to ruin me.
I don’t doubt she’ll do it, either. She can go public with this.
But after so many years dodging the past, maybe it’s time I met it? Especially if avoiding it is going to ruin things with someone like Ella. Better to tell her than live a lie.
But my god it’s going to kill me if she leaves as a result.
The pub is fairly empty because it’s in between lunch and dinner. The host informs me that they aren’t taking meal orders at this hour, only appetizers and drinks. I assure her that it won’t be a problem and sit back to wait for Trina.
I don’t think I’ve been this nervous since my first large concert.
Thankfully, I’ve only just ordered an iced tea before Trina walks into the dining room, scans the place, and spots me immediately. A little smile plays on her face as she walks over, her high-heeled boots clacking against the polished wood floor.
I stand to greet her.
“Bastian,” she says, giving me air kisses on either cheek.
“Hey,” I say. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“Of course. I’d drop everything for you, you know that.”
Inwardly, I wince. She’s not going to make this easy, not with comments like that.
The server hurries over and Trina takes her time perusing the drinks and appetizers menu. She licks her lips and says to the server, “I’ll have the house salad tossed in vinaigrette, and a margarita on the rocks. No salt.”
Nodding, the server hurries away.
“You didn’t want anything?” Trina asks.
“Just an iced tea,” I say.
She nods slowly, her smile fading. With forced brightness in her voice, she says, “So, tell me, Bastian, are you here to tell me about your next big hit?”
I can’t draw this out. I just want it over with.
“I’m here to tell you that I’m going to be finding another agent. I don’t think we’re working as well together as we used to.”
Her entire body goes still, and I can see further tension in the way her hands are held, fingers slightly bent. If she had long fingernails, I’d fear for my eyes about now—she looks like a cat, waiting to strike.
“Please tell me I heard you wrong, Bastian,” she says quietly.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I wish I could. But I think we both know it’s time for us to move on.”
“Time for you to move on, you mean? Because I’ve been working my ass off, stoking the fires of your success, trying to keep it going while you languish in self-imposed exile.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that,” I say.
“A good agent does that kind of shit without being asked.”
I can only shrug. What the fuck else is there to say?
“Bastian—”
She’s interrupted by the server returning with Trina’s margarita and my iced tea. Trina ignores the drinks and the server while I mutter a thank you , and then we’re alone again.
“Bastian,” Trina starts again, “you don’t want to do this.”
“I don’t want to, but I have to.” I take a sip of my tea, not even tasting it.
She gazes at me for a long time, her shrewd green eyes calculating. “You really mean this. You’re dissolving our partnership.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry, Trina.”
She stands up and puts her hands on the table. “You’re going to be fucking sorry.”
“I’m already sorry,” I say. “Every day. All the time. For everything else. I’m constantly sorry. Breaking up with you as my agent is nothing compared to all the rest of it.”
“The things we’ve been through,” she says.
“Yes, I’m well aware you’re holding that knowledge over my head,” I say. “I’d like to hope you won’t use it against me.”
Even though she already has—she has constantly reminded me of it, wielding it like a knife to urge me to do what she wants.
She gives a derisive snort and picks up her handbag to leave. “Yeah, whatever. We’re done, I guess.”
“I want you to stay away from Ella, too,” I say.
“That’s between me and Ella,” she practically growls.
I shake my head, but I don’t need to argue the point. I’ll go pick up Ella from her shift at Bartleby’s tonight, and tell her everything. If I’m living the truth—however harrowing and horrible it is—then the truth no longer has power over me.
Ella
Kingston did a lot to take my mind off of my problems last night. He fucked away all of my thoughts of Tommy, and my hurt over Sebastian not wanting to record with me.
Now, of course, all the negative is swirling up in my mind again. The reprieve was good, though. Necessary.
I’m even thinking that I should call him after work so he can fuck it all away again.
That idea has me grinning, and Natasha gives me a knowing look when we pass each other in the dining room.
Yeah, I’m totally in the honeymoon phase with Kingston. The soreness of my thigh muscles attests to it as well.
I smile when I see a familiar face at the bar. Trina Jack. She waves at me while I finish handing out drinks at another table. As soon as I’m finished with that, I hurry over to talk to her.
“Ella!” she exclaims before giving me air kisses on either cheek. “How are you, doll?”
“I’m good. Did Sebastian tell you how to find me?” I ask. “Or are you seriously stalking me?”
She laughs. “Bastian has no place in this conversation. It’s just between the two of us.”
Nodding, I purposefully shove aside the memory of how Sebastian very clearly doesn’t want to sing with me. Maybe, instead of that, he wants me to do my own thing first, prove myself before playing with the big dogs.
“Is there any way you could take a break to chat with me somewhere private?” she asks.
I glance around the not-too-crowded dining room, spot Natasha, and catch her eye. “Five minutes?” I mouth.
She nods.
“I only have five minutes,” I tell Trina.
“No problem.”
I lead her to Kevin’s office. There’s only one chair, so neither of us take it and we just stand sort of awkwardly facing each other.
“I’d like to work with you,” Trina says, immediately taking charge. “You have a great voice and I think talent like yours is only going to develop and grow over time, with the right nurturing. Bastian can be a mentor to you.”
I can’t help but wince.
“What was that look for?” Trina asks.
I may as well just say it. I don’t want to talk about it, even in my head, but I can’t let Trina take me on if she thinks Sebastian has any interest in mentoring me, when he obviously doesn’t.
“I don’t think Sebastian wants to be my mentor,” I say.
“What? Why ever not?”
There’s an odd gleam in her eye, like she isn’t surprised by this revelation. That’s weird, because she just said he could be my mentor. But the gleam disappears as soon as I saw it, and her expression is more sympathetic than anything else.
“I don’t know,” I say. “It might be that I’m just not good enough.”
She taps her chin and frowns. “It probably has something to do with that girl.”
“That girl?”
“You know, seven years ago, after the concert.”
I raise my eyebrows at her. I don’t know what the fuck she’s talking about, but now I have to know.
“The girl he attacked,” she says, with a “well, duh” tone in her voice, like she’s exasperated with me for not putting it together.
“He…he what?” I ask, certain I haven’t heard her correctly.
“He sexually assaulted a girl after one of his shows, seven years ago. It was his last show. His fear over being caught made him stop with making music. But I…I thought you knew.” She puts her hand over her mouth. “He hasn’t told you? Oh, shit. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Kevin has one of those old clocks I associate with school classrooms, with the big white face, black hour and minute hands, and the bright, orange-red second hand. I watch as the seconds tick past. The thing about Sebastian, that Trina just shared, isn’t penetrating my skull.
Instead, I watch the seconds.
“Ella? Are you okay?”
Trina’s hand comes down on my shoulder, and she shakes me slightly.
“I’m fine,” I say, feeling my lips form the words, my throat give them voice. “Fine.”
Sebastian sexually assaulted a girl. A girl, or a woman? Seven years ago? I don’t recall seeing any news stories like that when I looked up him and his music last week. It wouldn’t have been buried—that kind of story, these days, always remains at the top of a search.
It can’t be true.
“Who was it?” I ask. “Where is she now? I can’t believe this.”
“Oh, believe me, it happened. Her name is Alyssa. I helped her afterward, and trust me, Bastian Crown paid handsomely to cover her therapy and everything else she might be going through.”
I grip the back of Kevin’s office chair, wishing I was anywhere else right now.
“I’m so sorry,” Trina says. “I shouldn’t have said anything. And now you have to get back to work.”
Shit. Work. Natasha’s out there on the floor by herself.
“Yeah, I have to go,” I say.
“I hate to do this now,” Trina says, reaching into her giant purse, “but I have some paperwork here. I’d like you to sign it, if you’re still interested in working with me.”
She thrusts a packet toward me. I take it automatically, my fingers closing over thick paper.
“I wouldn’t ask in a rush, but I’m heading back to New York tonight,” she says. “And from there, to Nashville. I’m going to be on the road a lot, but I’d love for us to formalize an arrangement.”
I scan the words in front of me, most of them blurry through my teary eyes.
Trina hands me a pen.
This was always out of reach, even in my wildest dreams. Get an agent? Get a deal with a reputable recording studio? I only really cared about the music, and now I have a path laid out before me where everything can be handed to me while I focus on the music and someone else does the business.
Trina nods in encouragement.
I hold the pen above the signature line.