Chapter 19
19
Sebastian’s voice memo abruptly cuts off, my phone screen switching over to an incoming call.
It’s Lauren.
I shut my eyes, count to three, and pick up.
“Aliiiiiix,” she groans, sounding like the human equivalent of the distressed emoji.
“Good morning to you too.”
“It’s not a good morning. I’m just, like, a total distracted mess today—my boss has already yelled at me twice. And I spilled coffee all over my favorite white dress.”
“Yelled? At the Met?”
“Well, it felt like she was yelling. She’s really hard to please.”
She pauses, like she has more to say but isn’t quite sure how to say it—and then it all comes out in a rush. “But like I said, I’m just really distracted today. I need to tell you something. My coworker who was so loud while I was waiting on the locksmith—Veronica—the one who caused the noise complaints? She’s, um, kind of been living here, too. Will you really get evicted if we get another complaint? I told her to keep it down, but she just rolled her eyes. I’m worried she’s going to get you in trouble and I don’t know how to fix it.”
I blink. That is… a lot.
“You didn’t think you should ask me first about someone else living in my apartment? You aren’t even supposed to be living there.”
“I know. But I didn’t know it was going to turn into this, I swear! We were watching a movie and then she, like, dumped all her roommate drama on me and asked if she could spend the night. I said sure, but then she just… didn’t ever go home again. And now I don’t know how to get her out.”
“And this is someone you know through your internship?”
“Yeah. We work the same hours, so she keeps tagging along whenever I head home—I even tried to cut out early yesterday, but my boss was right there, so I couldn’t get away. It’s getting awkward.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Have you tried talking to her about it?”
“I’m still working up the nerve…”
“So that’s a no?”
Lauren sighs. “I’ve seen her get super petty with people at work when things don’t go her way. And it’s like she doesn’t even hear me sometimes—I’ll say I want Chinese for dinner, but she wants pizza, so we end up getting pizza. I’ll say I need the shower, but then she sneaks in to use it while I’m grabbing a fresh towel.”
I snort. “No wonder she’s having roommate problems.”
“Yeah.”
“I know you hate confrontation,” I say carefully. “But you really, really need to talk to her—and not just because she could get me evicted. She’s walking all over you. Using you. You have every right to stand up for yourself.”
Lauren goes quiet on the other end.
It’s silent for so long I worry the call dropped somehow.
“Fine,” she finally says, sighing. “I don’t know if she’ll listen, but I’ll try.”
“You can do this, Lauren. Don’t let her steamroll you.”
I hear another muffled voice in the background of the call.
“That was my boss,” Lauren explains. “Break’s over.”
We hang up, but the conversation plays on a loop in my head. The more I think about it, the more anxious I feel: my good standing as a tenant is in the hands of my well-meaning sister who doesn’t know how to put her foot down. Even if she musters the nerve to actually have the conversation, there’s a real possibility that her presumptuous coworker won’t take it seriously—and then what? More noise complaints could lead to my eviction, which would mean apartment hunting, then inevitable discouragement when there’s nothing else in my neighborhood I can afford.
Again, the fleeting thought crosses my mind: I could sell Tyler out and have five digits—maybe even six—in my bank account in a heartbeat.
It’s the easy answer.
It also makes me a little nauseated to think about.
If money were the most important thing to me, I’d still be with Blake—I would have contorted myself into someone who could deal with his toxic behavior just for the sake of being comfortable in material ways.
But money has never been the most important thing to me.
I chose a career I love because it makes me happy. I chose a life without Blake even though it meant I’d have to work so much harder.
I’ve never taken the easy way just because it’s easy. And I’m certainly not feeling all that motivated to betray Tyler—who’s been nothing but kind to me, nothing but generous—just because my sister’s gotten herself into an uncomfortable situation.
Nope. Not feeling all that motivated at all.
My head hurts.
I try to focus on work instead, picking up with the voice memo I was listening to before she called.
“Things were tense between Jett and me right from the start,” Sebastian says. “He hardly said two words to me that entire first rehearsal, and he was so opinionated—it was like his ideas were the best ideas, end of story. It was always like that. Maybe he was trying to be such an ass that Jason would have no choice but to let him out of his contract? I don’t know. It backfired if that’s what he meant to do. All it did was put the rest of us on edge, and then Jason decided that worked for us—for me and Jett, specifically—and he started feeding it. Intentionally giving Jett his way just to piss me off, or giving me a solo Jett wanted to piss him off, things like that, all the time. I told Jett he was just paranoid and bitter when he tried to point out how Jason was fueling our rivalry, but eventually—after Jett was, uh, gone—I saw it. He was right.”
There’s a long pause. I check to see if the audio is frozen, but it’s still going.
“Everyone knew we had tension,” he finally goes on. “A lot of people assumed I had something to do with him going missing. I hated the guy most of the time, yeah—really publicly, unfortunately. But I just wanted him out of the band, not wiped off the face of the planet. He made life miserable for the rest of us, especially me, and I spent so much time resenting him for it. But I swear I have no idea what happened to him. I wish I knew. I hope he’s out there somewhere, if only so people will stop giving me shit about how I must have driven him to… whatever happened… for the rest of my life.”
I rip out my AirPods.
What do I do with that ?
I could make Sebastian’s life easier in a heartbeat if I told the world the truth—but it would be at the expense of Tyler’s peace, Tyler’s privacy. Never in a million years did I imagine I would have more insight into Sebastian’s life story than Sebastian himself. How am I supposed to convincingly ghostwrite his tell-all while holding on to a secret like this ?
I blink, staring out at the mountain where Tyler’s probably giving a ski lesson right this minute. Where he has been for years, hiding in plain sight.
And then I remember: I’m not the only one who knows he’s here.
River knows. Julie knows. River could’ve let Sebastian in on the secret right from the start, but he didn’t, and the logic feels obvious: there’s no way the secret would have stayed secret.
River was loyal to Tyler. Has been loyal, keeping his secret for all these years. But Sebastian made the arrangements for me to stay here—not one of the countless vacation homes he owns. Here .
Why on earth would River—and Julie, for that matter—allow me to move in right next door to Tyler, knowing full well who I’m writing about?
Maybe it’s the writer in me spinning up stories where there aren’t any, but it almost feels like I’ve been set up. Do they want his secret to get out?
I take a deep breath.
Is there any scenario in which Tyler’s secret stays secret?