Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It feels like I’ve just fallen asleep when a buzzing sound jerks me awake.
With a groan, I squint toward the noise and grunt at the flashing display. The lamp on the end table casts an eerie glow over the large space while my eyes continue to adjust. I hide my face in my arm, trying to orient myself.
My decision to ignore the call changes when it occurs to me it might be Callie. Maybe she needs help. Or misses me. Either scenario is an auto answer.
I swat at the coffee table in an attempt to retrieve my phone. When I finally grasp it, the call is missed, but immediately jumps to life again.
TJ? At six in the morning?
Movement in my periphery grabs my attention, and I see Luke stirring on the other side of the couch. Guess he crashed here too. I’m tempted to silence the call, but if our manager is on a mission, there will be no escaping him.
“Yeah?” I croak into the receiver.
“Casey! Thank god. Were you sleeping?”
“It’s six AM, dude. What’s up? ”
“So you haven’t seen it, then.”
“Seen what?”
His urgent tone has me picturing him pacing his office in rapid streaks. The guy does “stress” at a whole other level.
I push myself up to a sitting position and adjust the phone.
“It’s all over the place,” he continues. “Video and everything. Something about Luke and a chair and some new girlfriend? What’s going on over there?!”
Shit .
I rub a hand over my face and cast another quick look at Luke. He seems to be waking up as well.
“It’s nothing,” I assure TJ. “I don’t know what they’re saying, but I’m sure it’s bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit! They’re saying he’s erratic and violent! Stealing property? Threatening people? Sky high on who knows what substances? And who’s this girl? You didn’t think we’d maybe want to control the narrative on Luke’s first partner since the Elena thing?”
The Elena thing? Man, I hate this guy sometimes.
He goes quiet, and I actually feel his cringe through the phone.
“My bad, Casey. I could have phrased that better.”
“Yeah. You could’ve,” I say dryly.
The Elena thing… as if the worst day of my life is a tab on a spreadsheet.
“Anyway, my point is this is bad. It’s blowing up and the Label isn’t happy. I just spent hours trying to convince Alberto not to drop you over the Kara Corbin disaster, and then you pull this shit five minutes later? How could you let this happen?!”
Anger surges through me, burning away any lingering drowsiness. “First of all, I didn’t let anything happen. I wasn’t even here when all this went down. But even if I was, I’m not responsible for Luke’s behavior. ”
Luke shifts on the couch, and I sense his intense stare from across the room.
“And second of all, the event you’re talking about is clearly being blown out of proportion.”
Hopefully. I don’t actually know. Luke still hasn’t told me anything about that damn chair and why it was worth blowing up our lives again.
“So he didn’t steal a chair?” TJ returns, hopeful.
“I mean… yeah. But?—”
“Shit. What about the girl? Is there a girl?”
“Yes, but it’s not?—”
“Dammit! Okay, listen, I’m getting Alberto on the phone. Expect a call in a couple hours. I’ll let you know who will be on it when I find out. And Casey, keep Luke on a leash. No more drama.”
I don’t even get to tell him off when he hangs up without a goodbye.
“Fuck,” I hiss, shoving my phone back on the table.
I dig the heels of my palms into my scratchy eyes.
“It’s out there, isn’t it,” Luke states in a flat tone.
I sigh and drop my hands. “Yeah, man. TJ is going to set up a call for damage control.”
“What are they saying?”
Luke’s expression is still unreadable as he watches me from several yards away.
“TJ didn’t give many details, but dude, Callie’s involved.”
He winces and sinks back against the couch. “Fuck.”
“Yeah. They’re saying you two are together.”
His gaze locks on mine. He knows the magnitude of what that means. And it means a whole lot more to him than a spreadsheet called “The Elena Thing.”
He runs a hand over his head as he thinks. “I should be on the call.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ll take it. ”
He shakes his head. “You can’t keep fighting my battles for me. You weren’t even part of this.”
“No, but I am now.”
“Casey…”
“I’m serious, man. It’s gonna be brutal, and I have a layer of insulation from it you won’t. They won’t expect you to be involved. Let me handle it.”
He deflates with a heavy exhale. “What about Callie? We need to warn her. Should we call her?”
The thought of waking her this early to blow up her life ignites a dull ache behind my eyes.
“No. I’ll break the news when she comes over. Which should be in just a few hours anyway. Plus, I’ll know more after the conference call.”
He lowers his gaze, pain flashing across his face. After a long silence, his eyes find mine again.
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this,” he says quietly.
“It’s not a big deal. It’ll blow over. You know how it goes.”
He shakes his head. “No, I mean all of it.”
I flinch and go quiet as his words sink in. I don’t even know how to respond to that. Anything I say will be a lie and he knows it.
“I’m gonna shower and crash,” he says, laboring to his feet. An invisible curtain is sinking down on him, crushing him, veiling him right in front of my eyes. “Let me know if you change your mind about the call. I’ll take the hit.”
I believe him. Worse than that, I believe he wants to take the hit because the pain will feed that sick part of his brain that insists on torturing itself.
I also know that call would undo all the progress we’ve made over the last couple of weeks, and there’s not a chance in hell I’m letting that happen.
My phone buzzes again, and I glance at the screen to see a text from TJ.
Everyone will be there. Bring your A Game.
The call goes about as badly as it could. Maybe worse. At one point, the Label even says they’re done with us and activating their “Morality Clause” to officially sever ties.
TJ and our PR team manage to quell the fire enough to give us a chance to fix things. We have twenty-four hours to come up with an alternate narrative. It’s also hammered home that the demo on Friday will be delivered and it will be good.
The harsher the vibe gets, the more grateful I am that Luke isn’t participating.
It would’ve been so much worse for all parties involved, and we likely wouldn’t have gotten the brief reprieve.
I take the repeated beatings and concede to all their demands, even though I know I probably can’t deliver any of them.
At least I’ve gained a day to damage control my own life before it implodes on a public platform.
After we hang up, I stare at the wall for a long time. My head is spinning with the threats, warnings, and tirades meant for someone else. My chest aches. My stomach is in knots. The only thing keeping me remotely grounded is the thought of seeing Callie soon.
It's almost eight, so I’m hoping to hear the door at any second.
Luke hasn’t emerged from his room.
I haven’t sought him out.
It’s better this way. I don’t trust my ability to tame the riot inside me if I face him right now. The last thing I want is to explode on him and defeat the entire purpose of me taking the punishment on his behalf.
I didn’t go through that hell for no reason.
By the time the door lock triggers around nine, I’ve shifted my zombie state from the couch to the kitchen. It was my intention to make coffee, but I never got past leaning on the island, staring into space.
Callie pokes her head around the door, and the heavy weight crushing my chest melts away.
Her expression is almost shy when she approaches with a paper bag in one hand and a small suitcase in the other. I can’t imagine why she’d be nervous, until I remember our rampant text flirting the night before. God, that seems like forever ago.
“You came back,” I say with a smile.
“And brought food as commanded.”
“Good, I’m starving.”
She drops the bag on the island, and I join her at the end.
“I got a few kinds of cream cheese. I wasn’t sure what you liked.” Her voice is still hesitant, like she’s not sure how this encounter is supposed to go. I try to remain bright and positive for her sake, but her day is about to get ugly.
“Plain.”
“Got that.”
She fishes a container from the bag and passes it to me, along with a plastic knife.
I grab a bagel and dig into the cream cheese.
“How’s Luke?” she asks.
The air drains from the room. I can’t hold the act through the surprise hit, but maybe it’s better this way. There’s no point dragging this out.
“Uh-oh,” she says in an ominous tone.
“Yeah. It wasn’t a good night. I didn’t want you to worry so I didn’t say anything, but remember that thing you told me about with the chair?”
Her shoulders sag as she nods.
“Well, it hit last night. Freaking blew up. I’ve been on the phone since six this morning with TJ, the lawyers, the Label PR people. What a mess. ”
Her expression grows pensive. “I was afraid of this. What are they saying?”
Nothing and everything. Lies that become truth. The great juxtaposition of our media obsessed world.
“All bullshit. You know how it goes. No one actually knows anything so they all put their own ‘hypothetical’ spin on it, which then becomes fact. You should hear some of the stuff they’re saying. Totally crazy.”
She frowns and watches her finger make absent stabs at her bagel. “What kinds of things?”
Every instinct in me wants to protect her from exactly that, but she has a right to know. She’s going to find out anyway.
“Stupid stuff,” I mumble. “That he was high. That he got in a dispute over a bill. Oh, and you’ll love this. You’re in the story now, too.”
Her head darts up. “I am?”
Anxious hazel eyes search my face with a hint of fear. Being forced to watch her go through this fallout might be harder for me than for her.
“Yeah, pretty much the main story, actually. Just a heads up. Anyone you’ve ever known—like, ever—is going to be trying to contact you within the week. Better turn your phone off and plan to stay hidden.”
I spend the next few minutes relaying the bad news about what it means to be under the celebrity microscope. Then, the really bad news that she’ll be the focal point of the drama.
She seems rocked by the whole thing, but in typical Callie fashion, after absorbing the shock, she settles into determination.
“So what do I do? How can I help?” she asks, taking a stool. Literally, getting down to business.
A smile plays at my lips. “We’re working on that. I explained the whole situation, everything, to our people, and they’re going to put together a response. ”
Her knee bounces as her brows knit with concern. Knowing her, she’s probably more worried about us than herself.
I take her hand to reassure her. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. I promise.”
When she shifts to fall against me, I pull her close and instinctively brush my lips on her hair. I will do everything in my power to protect her from this.
“It would be so much better if they just thought I was your girlfriend instead,” she mumbles, and I go rigid. She pulls back with wide, urgent eyes. “I’m sorry! I didn’t… I meant… for Luke’s sake.”
We both know that’s a lie.
My body goes hot, then cold. Instead of the joy I expect, it’s fear coursing through my veins. I’ve been waiting weeks to hear those words, and now I’m paralyzed by them.
Maybe it’s this small dose of reality, or maybe I’ve just been in denial, but suddenly, the thought of officially dating Callie, permanently dragging her into our world, seems impossible. Worse than that. Cruel and pointless.
She hides her face in her hands as she gathers herself together. My brain is screaming for me to say something. To put her mind at ease and tell her I feel the same, but I can’t speak. There are no words in my vocabulary for this situation because I’ve never let myself be in it before.
There’s a reason I’ve never had a serious girlfriend. A lifetime of reasons my starved heart conveniently forgot until this moment.
“I should go check on Luke,” she stutters out, sliding off the stool.
I have to stop her, make her understand, but I don’t know how. All I can think to do is grab her arm and pull her around, even if it means telling a small lie or two.
But I miscalculate the strength of my tug and end up with an irresistible temptation just a breath away. Her gaze locks on mine, and for a brief moment, neither of us knows what to do.
Except I’m the one who invited this. It’s on me to fix it.
“You don’t actually want that, do you?” I say. The words just pour out. “I mean, do you have any idea how hard it would be to date someone like me?”
Her broken heart is all over her face, and I can’t look at it anymore. I stare at the wall instead. My brain isn’t processing things fast enough. The truth keeps changing faster than I can keep up with it. What I want, what is, what should be—all questions I just realized I can’t sort out.
“I’m sorry, Callie. I know you didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted to make sure… I mean, even if I really liked you, and I do… I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt you, and I’m afraid I would.”
Her weak nod does nothing to soften the blow.
The irony that I’m crushing her in my effort not to crush her is not lost on me, but I’ve been so stupid to think this could ever work.
Not to mention a total asshole for leading her on.
Of course she’d think we were headed toward something.
I thought so too until twelve seconds ago.
Until reality slapped me in the face this morning.
Look what’s happened because she was caught having breakfast with one of us.
Imagine what it will be when the real shit hits the fan.
It’s better for both of us if we face the truth now before it goes too far.
Before I can’t do the right thing and end up breaking her like every single relationship I’ve witnessed since I was a kid.
Love destroys people. I’ve seen it over and over and over again. Hell, the tragedy that brought us together is the ultimate testament to what it means to put your faith in another human being.
“Yeah, of course,” she says in an even tone, but I hear the waver in her voice. See the glossy film settling over her eyes. God, it hurts like hell.
“Um… Yeah, I should go. I…”
She yanks her arm away and stalks toward the hall, probably to flee to Luke’s room.
You know you fucked up when someone turns to Luke for comfort over you.
“Shit,” I mutter, running a hand over my face.
Now what?