6. Avery #2
“Ave—” Wes starts to give what no doubt would be some sorry excuse, but he’s cut off by a man in a burgundy suit who yanks him into one of those half hug half handshake dude-bro hugs.
“I didn’t know you’d be here. You have to crash another one of my sets. The girls go crazy when I DJ that throwback shit. Miami was wild.”
“Yeah, Miami was great.” Wes’s voice is distant as he replies, still staring at me.
The man starts speaking again, but I don’t stick around to listen.
I slip away out to a vacant balcony. Below, the city is alive.
Buildings look like misprinted chess boards with half their windows alight.
Cars dart through the streets in a steady rush.
A shriek of unrestrained laughter floats up to where I stand just as the doors open behind me, but I don’t look.
“I was just explaining the trouble I went through to see you, and then you leave me?” Wes says.
“Why are you here?” I bite out.
“I heard you had doubts about the tour.”
I whirl so my back presses against the thick concrete parapet. “Doubts? I don’t have doubts, Wes. I can’t just drop everything because you want to make a game out of this.”
“Okay, I know it’s a lot to ask. Forty cities, no sleep, endless memories. Just like the first one we did. Though the venues might be a bit bigger.” He rests his elbow next to me and leans his fist against his cheek, which only exaggerates his crooked smile.
“Are you shitting me?” I hiss. He can’t actually think I’ll say yes.
“Okay, maybe we can squeeze in a few of the old venues for nostalgia’s sake. Security is going to be a bitch. But for you, I’d do anything.”
“Except sign the papers.”
His lips kick into a smirk as he shrugs. “I realized that if I signed them, you could get rid of me. And that sounds like a mistake on your part. We’ve been doing this for fourteen years, what’s one more?”
“You’re right. You had years to make amends, and you chose not to. Thanks for the reminder.” I open my clutch and pull out the Uno card before slipping it into the front pocket of his jeans. Wes jerks at the sudden contact, his surprise freezing him into place as I leave.
I storm back into the party, ignoring people who attempt to get my attention as I head toward the exit.
Instead of seeking out Jamie, and disrupting his night of celebrating, I text him that I got a headache and am headed home.
He doesn’t respond, but that’s to be expected, he has better things to do.
When I get to the coat check, the attendant is gone. I’m in no mood to stand around, so I start to open the door and hear shuffling inside.
The first moan reaches me as I push farther into the closet, and recognition freezes me to the spot. Jamie is standing with his back to the open door. His trousers are down, caught around his calves, and there’s a red dress clenched in his fist.
My red dress.
His hips surge into Harper. He’s pressed her against the back wall, hands cupping her ass. Acute bliss has captured her features. Eyes rolled back. Shimmering lips shaped in an “O.”
I can’t look away.
“I thought I told you ten minutes,” he says in a thick lust-drenched voice. “I paid you to fuck off.”
“Going to the trouble of bribing someone and then not locking the door? That’s really lazy,” I say as an old feeling flares to life in my chest.
Harper’s eyes fly to me. She releases a sharp yelp and shoves Jamie away.
Attempting to regain some sense of modesty, she rushes to pull down the dress.
Jamie must forget that his pants are around his legs because he turns, taking a step and nearly falls.
He grunts and manages to catch himself on a rack, sending designer coats tumbling to the ground.
“It’s not—” they both start to say.
“Save it.” I sigh. “Harper, I’d expect this from a man. But I thought you’d realize you deserve better than this. I guess he’s been railing you so hard that you forgot you used to have a fucking backbone.”
I’m out of the closet before they can finish composing themselves. Anger rushes to my head as I return to the party, a buzz as effective as any drug.
A hand latches around my arm, and I stumble, drunk on my own disorientation.
“Avery,” Jamie says, as if he has a right to call out to me. “Avery, just stop and listen.”
“To what?” I demand, spinning to face him.
His fingers dig divots into the soft flesh of my forearm.
I pretend not to notice, invading his space until there’s barely an inch between us.
“No, please share. I’m curious. Tell me the story.
Make me feel sorry for the man who just had the best night of his life.
Tell me how I should be grateful to be here, because no matter how fucking long I’ve been proving myself, I have to keep doing it, while you get to fuck my assistant.
” My voice is level, despite my fury. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of me turning into a shrieking mess.
“I think it’s about time you let go of me. ”
“You’ll regret walking away from everything we have. Because of me and my movie, people are talking about you and your music again.”
I scoff. “I was someone before you, but you were nameless before me.” A truth I’ve kept clenched in my jaw; a tension I’ve ignored.
My name was the boost he needed to make sure his first Hollywood project would become a blockbuster hit and jumpstart his career.
What did I get? To smile next to a man who is so stupid he forgot to lock the door before he cheated on me, all so I can get a good headline or two.
Fuck that. “Love me or hate me, they’ll never get enough of Avery Sloane.
” I tug against his grip. “Good luck making a sequel that people give a shit about.”
Desperation to cling to music has made me someone , that’s for sure. Someone pathetic, apparently.
Before he has a chance to respond, a sparkling stream of champagne collides with his face, dripping from his chin and drenching his once pristine velvet-trimmed tux. He steps back, releasing me and wiping the liquid from his eyes. “What the fuck?”
“I think she said to let go, but you do have a face that just begs to have a drink thrown at it.” The calculated calm in Wes’s voice settles me. Every cell in my body knows he’d stand by me against anyone in this room. Against anyone, anywhere.
Jamie bristles, shoulders pulling taut, ready to march at us.
Wes tuts, twirling the stem of the glass between his fingers like a school boy with a pen. “I was being nice with the drink. I have no problem breaking your pretty face. I’ve done far worse for her for less.”
“What the fuck is he even doing here?” Jamie bites out, eyes wide and verging on feral.
A hush has drifted through the venue since the rest of the guests have stopped trying to be subtle about eavesdropping. He was going to learn this lesson eventually; too bad it’s the hard way. The only thing they love more than an underdog is a fall from grace.
I peer at Wes, who, even after everything, is here with me. The answer is obvious now that the clouds have cleared. “I invited him.” I tilt my head so I’m staring directly into the lens of a phone. “We’re going on tour together.”
“You’re a fucking hypocrite,” Jamie spits at me, his skin has turned splotchy red, in a way that I might be concerned about if I could give a damn.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.
” But of course, I do, the rumors about Wes and me have been around as long as our careers.
Fleeting touches. Foreheads bent together.
Then there was that night, the kiss, and every terrible thing that came after, that brought me here to stand in front of this sorry excuse for a man.
“I’ve always wondered who you were really thinking about when we slept together. Of course, it was him and now you’re going to be alone together for months. How convenient.”
“I don’t mind hearing that,” Wes mutters.
Jamie rounds on him. “As if you have a leg to stand on. You’re the last person who should be talking.” He has a point, but I don’t give a fuck.
“Jamie, calm down, you’re being so emotional right now.
I’m not sure you’re cut out for this business with your delicate sensibilities.
Oh—” I slip my ring off my finger, my hand feeling lighter the moment it’s gone.
In fact, everything about me feels lighter in a way I haven’t experienced in far too long.
For the first time in years, I’m choosing myself without caring what anyone else thinks.
“You’ll probably want this back, just in case you’re a one-hit wonder. ”
I flick the ring, and it arcs through the air, glinting as it spins. Jamie lunges for it as it slips through his fingers, landing on his knees at my feet.
“Let’s go.” Wes’s palm molds against mine.
And we run out into the night.