Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“Robbie!” Juliet snapped, whipping her head around so quickly she was afraid it might fly right off her neck.
Robbie was standing behind her in her dressing room, holding one of the hairsprays left behind by her hair and makeup team, humming that fucking song.
He slowly turned to look at her. “What? Can’t stand to share your styling tips with your boyfriend?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. Usually, she loved catching Robbie as he obsessed over hair products.
The disparity between knowing who Robbie really was, compared with his image, amused her.
The six-foot-two, chiseled, ruggedly handsome country crooner, who would never publicly admit to having a nightly moisturizing routine that was just as in-depth as Juliet’s.
But at this literal moment in time?
“I don’t give a damn about styling tips. Why are you humming that?” She hissed at him.
She desperately wished she could blame Robbie humming that song as the reason it had taken root in her mind.
But it had been lodged in her brain since the first time she’d heard it two days ago.
She’d really done her best to ignore. To “rise above” as she’d been advised to do. Multiple times, in fact, in the last month.
But that song was viral. She felt like she couldn’t go an hour without hearing it.
Darcy’s tune was essentially tattooed in her mind; at her show last night, she’d almost fucking played it onstage. Christ.
Robbie lifted his eyebrows at her, in that aw, shucks way he had. “I didn’t even realize. Catchy as all hell.”
“I can’t believe she wrote a fucking song about me,” she seethed.
She’d had a ranting session for the entire plane ride here to Laura, who’d managed to talk her off a cliff. Temporarily, anyway, as she currently felt as though she was about to dive right back over it.
“Well, she wrote a verse about you,” Robbie corrected, laughter in his voice.
She aimed a withering glare at him. It was good to have Robbie here tonight, to give her an outlet for this rage before she had to go on stage and perform with a smile.
Granted, she already knew tonight was going to be an insanely successful show, simply because Robbie was going to appear as a guest.
Throughout the last eight years – since they’d started their “romance” – they’d always highlighted their relationship in at least one duet per each album they released, accruing seven so far. They’d arranged a mashup for tonight of their three most popular.
Well, Juliet had made the arrangement and sent it to Robbie, who had easily agreed. One of her favorite things about her faux boyfriend was how much he deferred to her. Both in terms of their publicity choices and when they sang together. Match made in heaven.
Usually, some of her favorite nights on tour were when Robbie came to surprise the audience. He did a great job of getting her out of her own mind.
Usually being a key word.
“Living in my brain? She lives in my brain?” She demanded from Robbie, sliding off of her chair, driven by the intense need to pace. “It’s a bit hypocritical coming from her, given that she is the one who wrote the damn song.”
“Verse,” Robbie oh-so-helpfully pitched in again.
Ignoring him, Juliet continued to pace, tossing her arms out wide as if it could help expel this energy surging through her. “She’s the one who took it there. Not me. If I’m obsessed with her, what does that make her where I’m concerned?”
When Robbie said nothing from his perch leaning against the wall, watching her with a mildly amused stare, she paused and cut him an expectant look.
“Oh, you wanted an answer for that? I assumed with the pacing and venting that it was rhetorical.”
“You are the least funny person I know.”
“That is definitely not true. We both know at least a dozen of the least funny people in the world, including your stepfather.”
That was just enough to get her to crack a grudging smile, even if it was also half-grimace. Because, yeah, Robbie was right. And Harrison wasn’t even a corny-middle-aged-man kind of unfunny; he was the kind of unfunny who took pleasure in putting people down and witnessing failures.
She would know.
Robbie sighed. “Look, if you want my honest feedback–”
“That’s what I asked for.” In her own silent way. But he should know that by now.
“You’re doing the world’s best job of giving Darcy power over you. Maybe she wouldn’t sing about you being obsessed if you, y’know, weren’t.”
Her cheeks heated and she wanted desperately to blame anger rather than embarrassment at having been called out so blatantly. Still, she sniffed. “How am I supposed to ignore her when she is every-fucking-where?”
She couldn’t drive down a street without seeing advertisements for We, The Romantics’ tour in a few months, given that tickets had just gone on sale.
She couldn’t go on any social media – even her fake one, the one she used with her middle name – because Darcy was still all over.
Her voice – uh, her band’s songs – played as multiple of the most popular trending audios.
Almost all of Juliet’s personal life was wrapped up in her professional life. Robbie and Laura were her confidantes, and most of her free time when she had it, was spent focusing on her next albums.
There was nowhere to turn without Darcy already there.
And now! Now, she’d released that song about Juliet.
“You know, maybe she’s right. Maybe you should apologize to me for not talking about me more. Maybe that way she’ll write songs about you being obsessed with me. Problem solved.”
She scowled. “Yes, and that would be so great.”
Even if she took away the Darcy aspect of his ribbing, it made her stomach churn. Her arrangement with Robbie was perfect in many ways, but one of the biggest – for Juliet – was not actually having to deal with a partner who had some fragile ego.
She brought up Robbie enough. Strategically dropped his name here and there, gave teasing comments on socials or in interviews on occasion. Enough to keep people interested, to keep their Robbie-O-and-Juliet fans happy.
But Juliet knew the score.
If she talked about Robbie too much, her career would be overshadowed by him, by them. People were always foaming at the mouth to hear more about their future. She’d been asked multiple times in recent years when they’d be having children because she was getting up there. She was twenty-six!
The best thing to do was offer just enough. Offer “glimpses.” Leave people wanting more of them, while promoting herself without pause.
Robbie, despite being a couple of years older than her, was never hounded about when they’d get married or have children.
The thought was enough to sour her all over again, especially in the face of Robbie’s gently teasing, laidback smile.
Instead, she picked up her phone and unlocked it, shoving it at him. “Look. Look how many views she has.”
He reached up and lowered the phone from right under his nose. “I’m going to let it slide that this was already queued up and ready to go as soon as you unlocked your phone.”
“If you’re commenting on it, are you actually letting it slide?”
Robbie wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Good point. But, yeah, I know. It’s everywhere. Catchy tune…” He trailed off, at least having the decency to look a little sheepish at having been humming it earlier.
Her eye twitched.
First, because she wanted to wring Robbie’s neck for saying that again.
Second, because he was right. That was probably the most agitating thing about it; the song sounded really damn good.
“Hey, she didn’t actually say your name,” he pointed out, clearly attempting to be reasonable.
That statement was technically true, sure. When Darcy had released this as an acoustic “idea” she was “workshopping” on social media, she didn’t mention Juliet by name.
But everyone knew. Everyone had known without a doubt.
“Don’t be deliberately obtuse. It’s extremely annoying,” she bit out.
“Okay, let’s put the phone down,” Robbie suggested, as if he were negotiating a hostage situation. “Let’s get amped for the show. We have soundcheck soon.”
“I know when my soundcheck is,” she shot back, sharply spinning away from him. Her fingers were itching – truly itching – to start writing, with Darcy’s little tune echoing in her mind.
It had been like this for days, but she’d kept it together by the skin of her teeth.
Well, due to her schedule, anyway. She’d been getting ready for her show on Thursday afternoon when the song had dropped. A show that night, a show the following night. A long travel day yesterday, and now one of her biggest shows of the tour, hence Robbie’s presence – tonight.
“Oh, boy.” Robbie let out a low whistle. “I can see you quivering with anticipation. This can’t be good.”
She decided not to respond with words, just nailing Robbie with a withering stare. Quivering? Really?
“Can you find me a pen?” She asked – granted, the tone she used was more like an order.
But she could finally hear it in her mind. Not just Darcy’s song, but her own, marching to that same beat. Darcy wasn't the only one of them capable of writing an ear worm.