19. Stripped Back
“Are you even listening to me?”
I jump, pulling my gaze from my phone and looking back at Kevin’s worried face. “I’m sorry.” I mean it. He hasn’t slept for hours because of me, and the least I could do is to respect that by putting my phone away.
“So, what do you think?” he starts. “I know that you’re not sure what you want to do, but I’m going to be frank here. The heat from all of this drama is not going to last long. Your fans need to know you’re releasing a real album here.”
I squint, confused. “What do I think about what?”
He exhales sharply. “Faye.” There’s a warning edge in his tone. “You have to listen to me. Who keeps texting you, anyway?”
Heat burns in my cheeks. “No one.” I push my phone across Kevin’s glossy table, and it glides to the other end.
His green eyes are disapproving. “It’s Blake, isn’t it?”
There’s no use denying it. “Yeah.”
His brows knot with an expression between confusion and fury. I expect him to blurt out something about how Blake is being inappropriate, texting me during a business meeting. That, or ask me to surrender my phone for the remainder of our time together.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he merely asks, “Why?”
For a brief second, I assume he’s asking about the content of the text, and my cheeks burn even brighter as I recall Blake’s last message.
“Get over here, and quick. I keep touching my dick wishing you were here to suck on it.”
But then, as I study the confusion on his face, I realize he’s asking why Blake is texting me at all. What reason Blake would have to keep in touch, considering that our relationship is fake.
A dark feeling gnaws at my chest as I push away possible answers to that question, which I’ve been ignoring all week. Ever since the show, my head has been in a confusing place.
The performance was great. It was Blake’s and my first official public appearance. I had not planned for it, but that did not derail it. For weeks, our pictures and videos trended on social media under the hashtag FayLake. There are dozens of videos out there analyzing everything about us, from lipreaders guessing what Blake said to me on stage to music analysts pointing out possible references to Blake in my songs.
Somehow, though, that wasn’t the most overwhelming aspect of it all. Something even stranger is afoot. For the past week, Blake and I have beenbehaving like a real couple. Every day, after my studio sessions and meetings, I go back to his apartment in West Philly, where he proceeds to fuck me for hours on end. Sometimes we order in and eat between orgasms, but then we are back at it a few minutes later. When I am held up by a meeting or his practice goes on longer than expected, we sext, detailing what we’ll do to each other once we are together again.
We re-established our old cabin routine. But this time, it is much more comfortable.
Looking into Kevin’s face reminds me of the same question that’s been playing in my mind since Blake delivered those flowers to me on stage.
What the hell are we doing?
Are we in a real relationship, and I haven’t gotten the memo? Apart from Ben, I’ve never really dated anyone, so I’m not exactly an expert at how to navigate this.
All I know is that asking Blake terrifies me.
“Look,” Kevin says after I remain silent for a whole minute, “I care about you, and I care about Blake too. I’ve known you both for a long time. But . . . I just think some boundaries are important.”
“We have boundaries.” I sound defensive, and I know it, but I can’t help it.
“Yeah, sure.” Kevin sounds like he’s not buying it. “But maybe you could stand to enforce them more?” He hesitates for a beat. “I know I’m just your agent, but I’ve known Blake since he became a Philly Flyer. And he’s just not a relationship kind of guy . . . no matter what impression you might be getting.”
His words hit me like a hatchet. I rearrange my features into a placid look. “I know that,” I say. “I’m not interested in a relationship, either.”
Another feeling gnaws at me, one that feels too much like denial.
Do I want Blake and me to be a couple?
I think back to the interview, how nervous I was after realizing Blake made me feel good, all the time. Not just when we are in bed. From the moment he caught me as we both fell to the ground, I knew something about him was different. There’s a safety and a joy with Blake that I haven’t found anywhere else.
Being apart from him the week before the show was torture, but it was also freeing. It meant I could unpack my feelings and push them to the far corner of my mind. In that time, I almost managed to convince myself that Blake and I were not real. I even managed to suppress how good it felt being together in the cabin. It was the only reason I was able to sing a bunch of songs that didn’t reference Blake or romance at all.
But then he showed up and made love to me. And came up on stage. Since then, we are on a roll, either texting or fucking.
Blake has no idea, but every single thing he has done this past week has been straight out of a fantasy of mine. And I cannot pretend it’s not registering. Nor can I pretend that a part of me has started to assume—or hope—that Blake has shifted his stance on romance.
“We should get back to what we were discussing,” Kevin says when I remain silent. “I was asking you about an album release. Your fans are clamoring for one, and we need to start working on it, and fast. A couple of studios have reached out. I know you haven’t decided who you’re going to work with, but I really think that this?—”
My phone starts to ring, jarring in the near silence. I jump again. Even with Kevin’s little pep talk, a part of my brain goes haywire imagining it’s Blake who’s calling. But when I stand up and reach for the phone, I see the number is an unsaved one.
Kevin looks annoyed, but he stands up too. “I’ll let you take that.”
I press the phone to my ear just as he walks out. A part of me is still trilling with the thought that this is Blake, and that he’s calling me with a different number to surprise me. I know Kevin is right, and I need to be more careful. But I can’t help feeling this way.
“Hello, Faye.”
Every ounce of excitement dissipates from my body, and the darkest of fears grows in its place.
“Hi, Dad.” I’m careful to maintain an even tone, to not betray the way I’m feeling. I remember our last conversation, where he assured me that I would have to come running back to him.
But he was wrong. The opposite has happened, in fact. My followers have increased in number, and judging from Kevin’s desperation, they’re all waiting for a new album.
Everything is fine.
So why do I still feel scared?
“Looks like things are looking up for you.” He doesn’t sound the tiniest bit pleased.
“Yeah.” I look around to make sure Kevin is not listening. “I no longer have to be your puppet, for one.”
“Don’t be so sure of that.”
Even if I know he’s just bluffing, a slight tremble runs down my arm. “Oh, I am.”
“Really?” He sounds sarcastic. “Because you’ve got yourself in a new relationship so your fans can throw themselves into the fantasy you keep creating?”
There’s a tug of pain in my heart even after all this time. For a brief second, I wish I had the kind of father who would be happy for his daughter.
“I have a way better life than the one I had with you.” I know he doesn’t care about me, but I still hope it hurts. “Goodbye, Dad.”
“Wait,” he says, just as I’m about to hang up the phone.
Against my better judgment, I pause.
“Do you think your fans would love you if they knew you’re still lying to them?”
Another tremble. “You’re right. I didn’t exactly go into the details of how terrible you are at being a parent. Maybe I should make a post about this conversation.”
Maybe I should have changed my phone number after I got back to the real world.
He laughs. It’s a dark sound that sends worry echoing into the deepest fragments of my soul. “I would hold off on that.”
“Why? You’d like to do the honors? I don’t think boasting about that will cause impressionable teen girls to take you on as their manager.”
He laughs again. “I would hold off on that because I know you’re lying. You know, about the relationship with that hockey player.”
The world stills. My limp body falls into the nearest chair.
“Wh-What?”
I regret saying that almost immediately. I should have laughed and denied it instantly. But I just proved him right.
My dad laughs for the third time. “Blake White, is it? I know you’re faking a relationship with him. Wonder what your fans will say when I make the news public. You’re still on thin ice with them, you know.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The words I say next have the potential to determine the future of my career.
“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
Really, Faye?
“I think you do.” His voice is unbelievably smug. “Come on, think about it. I know most of your audience are teen idiots, but there’s no way you think they’re actually buying this. You fell into the arms of the person who would become your lover moments after escaping a wedding to the man you proclaimed repeatedly as the love of your life? Already, there are several videos on YouTube poking holes in your story. But the moment I announce the truth to the world, it’s all over for you. A miracle happened when the internet forgave you once. They’re not going to do it again.”
My head is spinning so badly I can’t think of what to say next. How did my dad find out about me and Blake? If he comes out with the news, how can I prove otherwise? I think of the text trail Blake and I have left over the past few weeks. Maybe posting them will do the trick?
But then I think of what that would do to Blake’s career, my career, if our lewd chats were exposed. I’ve dragged Blake into my mess long enough. I can’t keep doing it.
If my father decides to expose us, there’s barely anything I can do to help myself.
Except . . .
“I highly doubt anyone is going to believe the ramblings of an old man who was willing to let his daughter walk down the aisle to a cheater for the sake of a career.” I’m clinging on to that bit of hope desperately. My father’s reputation has been damaged so badly he’s had to shut down his social media accounts.
“You really think I need to announce the truth myself?” He sounds like he’s thought this through. “All I’m going to have to do is pay a few seedy people on Reddit. They don’t even need to mention your name—it keeps the intrigue. All they’ll do is start a conversation about how your relationship is obviously fake. Once the news starts to gain traction, it’ll spread on its own. And you’ll be done.”
My heart is beating painfully within my chest.
No, no, no.
I’ve worked for so long and done so much to break free of him. There’s no way on Earth that he can ruin my career this way.
“If you wanted to do it, you wouldn’t be calling me.”
“Oh, I will.” His assurance sends chills down my spine. “If you decided to play this game a little cleaner, maybe we could have worked out a solution. But right now, you’re just a loose cannon. I’m going to terminate your career and then move on to managing other impressionable young singers once my reputation is cleared. Just a heads up.”
The line goes dead.
I stare at the phone, my eyes blurring with tears.
The door creaks open and Kevin strolls in, a frown on his face.
“So, how was the love call?” His brows knot in worry when he spies my shaking hands. “Faye, what is it?”
I take a deep breath as I look up at him.
“We have a problem.”