Chapter 6
“SO HE HASN’T CALLED yet? He could be busy,” Reagan says, sitting on my kitchen bench and staring at me as I pace the room.
I’ve been doing this for about an hour now, and I still can’t figure out what’s going on.
I’m pretty sure I scared Travis off with my mental “I don’t believe in love” speech.
Then I blurted out Lillian’s death to him and bolted when he asked for an explanation.
I should have given him an explanation, I know that, but honestly, the thought of talking to him about that scares me.
I don’t talk about her.
At all.
“I think I scared him off,” I admit.
Reagan sighs, pursing her lips. “How? Tell me everything. We can break it down together.”
“We went to dinner, which was nice. We did a whole karaoke thing, but I freaked out halfway through and we got into it outside. Then, he took me to the beach and things just...I don’t know, got heated. We kissed and then... well, yeah...”
“Oh my God, you had sex?” she blurts.
I shake my head. “No, of course not. But he touched me.”
“Travis Phoenix fingered you?” she practically screams.
I shoot her a look. “Do you have to be so blunt?”
She grins. “You lucky... oh my God, fuck. Was it good? Tell me everything.”
“Well, it wasn’t bad,” I say, and her eyes widen. “It was...ah, I don’t know. Amazing, incredible, everything I could have ever imagined.”
“God, you’re so lucky. So lucky. Tell me what happened next, I’m invested.”
I slide onto the bench, crossing my legs. “Well, afterward we talked, and he sang to me...”
“He sang to you? Jesus, Vi...”
I roll my eyes. “Reagan, I swear...”
She fans herself. “Then what?”
“I may have said I don’t believe in love.”
“Violet!” she yells, shaking her head. “Why do you kill good moments? A gorgeous rockstar touches you, sings to you, and you dump on it with that! Woman, I ought to strangle you.”
“Well, I don’t know, it just came out. I know I don’t mean it, but he really hurt me and I just said what I thought in that moment. It was probably stupid. But then, he asked about Lillian...”
Her face drops. She grabs my arm. “What did you say?”
“I said she was dead, and I didn’t want to talk about it. Then he took me home.”
She squeezes, giving me a look. “I don’t think it would be that, but maybe he is feeling like you’re shutting down and is giving you some space. Just reach out, try and talk to him, flick him a text and see what happens.”
“I don’t know,” I exhale. “Maybe all of this is just a bad idea...”
“Do you want him in your life or not, that is as simple as it is.”
I meet her gaze. “Of course I do.”
“Then text him.”
“Alright, okay...” I grab my phone, glance at Reagan, and then send a message.
V - Hey rockstar.
“‘Rockstar’?” Reagan leans over my shoulder.
I laugh. “Trust me, he loves it.”
We wait ten minutes... fifteen... thirty. Panic claws at me.
“He’s not going to reply. I feel like an...”
My phone buzzes. Reagan practically trips over herself as she runs toward me.
T: Hey beautiful.
“Oh my God. I am so fucking jealous,” Reagan shrieks.
I steady my breath.
V - How have you been?
T: Really good, you?
V - I’m good. I’m sorry about how the other night ended. I shouldn’t have dropped that on you.
T - I get it, kid. It’s all good. I’ve been busy. I should have texted.
V - That’s okay.
T - Have you been sleeping well?
My heart swells. All my life I have been a terrible sleeper. Sometimes, he used to come through my window at night and sing to me until I fell asleep. The fact that he remembers that does silly things to me.
V - Mostly.
T - Mostly?
I dare to do something different, something wild, a little crazy.
V - It’s been hard not to keep thinking about the other night, you know. The way you were with me, and what happened on the beach...
“Oh, you little devil,” Reagan grins. “That’s right, make him desperate for you.”
T - Oh?
V - It was just hot, you know? I can’t stop thinking about it.
T - Well fuck, I’m hard now, thanks for that.
We both squeal.
V - I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not...
T - Come see me for lunch. I have a surprise.
V - Oh? In your pants?
Reagan slaps me and I laugh.
“Girl, you are going to make him sweat,” she puts her hands over her face.
T - Be careful, Violet. Two can play at that game.
“Oh my god,” Reagan screams. “Girl, this is even turning me on.”
I laugh.
V - I like games.
T - Hmmm. I’ll send a car. See you at lunch.
V - What if I say no?
T - Behave, Mischief. See you soon.
Reagan laughs as I put the phone down. “So that went well?”
I bare my teeth in a nervous grin. “I think so. What do you think the surprise is?”
“His hard—”
“Stop it!” I laugh.
“We need something sexy but sophisticated.”
I grin. “Hey, Reagan...”
She looks at me.
“Thanks for being the best friend ever.”
She smiles. “Always.”
I pause. The thought I’ve danced around all day surfaces. “Do you think I should tell him about Lillian? Like all of it.”
Her eyes soften. She takes my hands. “When you’re ready, you will.”
I swallow. “I can barely say her name. I’m scared he’ll hate me.”
She squeezes my shoulders. “What happened with Lillian wasn’t your fault. You two were young. Friends taunt each other. If something went wrong, it doesn’t make you responsible.”
“I know you keep saying that, but I can’t help how I feel.”
“And I get that, but you can’t let it become everything you are.”
“But I’m all dark and freaky because of it.”
She waves me off. “Men love dark and freaky.”
I laugh, but it quickly fades. “I’m not the same person. What if he sees those bits and decides he doesn’t like them?”
She shrugs. “Travis Phoenix is chasing you. He has also known you practically your whole life. I can’t ever see something scaring him off.”
I nudge her with my shoulder. “Why are you so smart?”
“Good genetics,” she says, tossing her hair.
I laugh. “Let’s find me something sexy to wear.”
An hour later, I settle on short black shorts, a white blouse, lace-up black sandals, hair pinned up loosely.
We’re just finishing some light makeup when a fucking limo arrives. I stare at Reagan and she lets out a loud scream. “Stop, this is like a fucking fairytale.”
“A limo, is he serious?” I say, flushing.
“Girl, enjoy it. Go. Go.”
God damn you Travis, never one to do things quietly.
“IT’S LOVELY TO MEET you, I’m George.”
I slide into the luxurious limo and smile at the man holding the door open for me.
“Hi, George,” I murmur, awed by the mini-fridges, miles of space, and sheer luxury of the situation.
George closes the door and the car starts moving, as if we’re just gliding on ice.
It’s incredible. When we pull up before the towering Phoenix Records building—multiple stories high, its name glowing in giant letters—I can’t help staring.
I had no idea Travis had done something like this with his life, and I can’t help but feel bad that we didn’t get to share it with each other sooner.
“Wow. I’ve never seen this place,” I breathe as George helps me out. “I can’t believe he did all of this.”
He nods. “It’s a beauty. Head inside, ask reception for Travis. He’s expecting you.”
Inside the lobby, glossy white tiles and pale walls stretch out beneath a wide wooden desk.
A pretty young blonde receptionist looks up at me like I’m interrupting her nap.
I’ve seen more energy come from a ninety-year-old woman than this girl.
Gosh, Travis really needs to hire better, more enthusiastic staff.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Travis. I’m Violet.”
She sizes me up, scrunching up her nose. “Fine. Take a seat. I’ll call him.”
Fifteen endless minutes later she points to the elevator and dismisses me with a grunt.
I press the top-floor button and steel myself.
When the doors open, I'm hit with the unmistakable buzz of a record label in full swing.
Assistants hurry past with coffee trays and stacks of promotional materials.
Marketing teams huddle around mock-ups of album covers, pointing at font choices and color schemes.
Through a glass wall, I glimpse the heart of it all: a state-of-the-art recording studio where sound engineers hunch over mixing boards studded with blinking lights, adjusting levels while three young women in headphones stand clustered around microphones, rehearsing harmonies for what could be tomorrow's hit single.
“Hello, can I help you?” A kind voice at my elbow. I turn to see a friendly woman—she’s older, maybe in her forties, and has soft blond hair and kind blue eyes.
“I’m here for Travis...”
“Ah, you must be Violet.” She smiles. “Right this way.”
I don’t even have time to process before Travis himself appears, stepping out of a dark-wooden door.
He’s wearing black jeans, and a white shirt that is unbuttoned at the top and rolled at his elbows.
He looks professional, and yet also like a rockstar.
How he manages both, I don’t know, but fuck he’s perfect.
“Hey,” I say, my voice far huskier than I would like.
Why does he have this effect on me.
“Lucy, thanks, I’ll take it from here.” His assistant lingers, eyes shining. I grin, my cheeks already warm.
“Mischief,” he murmurs, eyes raking over me. “How are you doing?”
“Much better now,” I admit.
He takes my hand. “Come on, I’ve got so much to show you.”
Warmth floods me, and I am so happy with the fact that he has chosen to bring me here and show me what matters most to him.
We slip into the control room. The three girls peer at us through the glass, engineers tweak sliders and knobs. I watch in awe. How incredibly overwhelming and amazing it must be to stand in there, knowing your whole world just might change by the time you’re done.
“It’s cool, right?” Travis asks.
“Yeah,” I breathe.