Chapter 13 #2
Fine. If Juliet wouldn’t come to her to hash this out, she would go to Juliet.
… she did get momentarily tripped up, when she realized there were multiple doors – like another part of a maze – down that hall. But all of them were closets, except the final one.
When she pushed it open, her determination washed away just for a moment.
She blinked, looking around the room that was a deep, lively red.
It was – technically? – a bathroom, she realized.
But the door opened into a square room, two large basin sinks on either side with large, brightly lit mirrors around them.
There were cushy chairs – like, straight out of the seventies – artfully placed around.
At the back of the room, there was another doorway leading to, what Darcy had to assume, were multiple toilet stalls.
“Is this, like, a powder room or something?” She couldn’t help but ask, feeling gobsmacked.
What the hell was this?
“It’s a vanity room,” Juliet corrected her, sounding either amused or exasperated. Darcy couldn’t tell which.
She spun around, not even having realized Juliet was there, leaning slightly over one of the counters as she touched up her lip gloss.
“A powder room is a half-bath.” Juliet paused, then shrugged. “Technically, I suppose, this room doesn’t have a shower. But a powder room is smaller. You don’t have those in Pineford?”
If someone else explained that to her, Darcy might have felt stupid. Maybe a little embarrassed. But, hey, she and Juliet had started their entire “relationship” on the basis that Juliet thought she was a country rube, so, whatever.
“Well, I didn’t grow up like the Queen of Sheba.”
Juliet only hummed in acknowledgement as she capped her lip gloss and dropped it back in her purse. “I’m going back out there. Shelby, from what I hear, likes to make sure her dinners are served promptly at seven.”
Juliet only took one step forward, before Darcy matched the movement. She walked right in Juliet’s direction, making sure she didn’t get close to the door.
“What the hell was that all about?” She asked, scanning her eyes over Juliet’s face now that she was close enough to really take her in.
And – yeah. That fucking switch inside of Darcy had been flicked.
Standing this close to Juliet, all she could think of was the bold, brash way she’d told Darcy to look at her. The way she’d told Darcy to kiss her. Sex appeal wasn’t about looks; it was about attitude. Darcy had never had to face that as much as she did when it came to the woman in front of her.
Juliet’s eyes flashed at her, but her voice was even and measured, “You are the one who just cornered me in here.”
Oh, so it was going to be like that.
Darcy narrowed her eyes, impatience zipping through her, even as it entwined with a lick of heat. “I’m not talking about right now. And you know that. Look, Juliet, just be honest with me. Am I going to have to watch my back about this? Is this just something you do? Or…?”
Juliet arched her a look, her expression annoyingly unflappable. “Something I do?”
Tossing her hands into the air, the words exploded from Darcy, “Were you taunting me or hitting on me? Is that something you do? If you find out someone might be attracted to you, you toy with them? Were you trying to get in my head? Make it so all I can think of is what your next move is going to be?”
It was so fucking annoying that it had worked, though.
“Getting in your head? I’ve been doing that since before I met you,” Juliet’s face, her voice, her posture – it gave nothing away.
Darcy hated it. And she really hated that it made her feel even more impassioned, more worked up.
“So, you telling me to kiss you, you stripping in front of me – that’s what it was, then.” She wasn’t even sure if it was a question or a statement. She had no damn clue.
“Darcy,” Juliet started, gently shaking her head. “I have no idea what you’re even talking about.”
With that, Juliet tilted up her jaw and sailed past Darcy, gliding away.
Just as Juliet reached the door, one of the other guests – Erin freaking Peters, who was the lead singer for the first song on the album – opened it.
She stopped short when she noticed them. “Oh, sorry. Almost clipped you, Juliet.”
A sweet smile slid right into place over Juliet’s face, looking authentic as all get out. “No worries, Erin. Next time I’ll wear a little bell.”
Juliet let out a gentle, lilting laugh, as she stepped around Erin, gently cupping her elbow as she went. Because, apparently, she could be normal to anyone except for Darcy.
She really tried not to fixate on Juliet throughout dinner.
They sat at Shelby’s thirty-person table – Darcy didn’t even know they made tables to fit thirty people? – throughout the four-course meal.
Darcy managed to be a normal person. She was excited to be here. It was fucking cool.
She wasn’t going to let the fact that Juliet liked to play mind games ruin this. No way Juliet didn’t remember what had happened at the studio. Darcy had been the one to have multiple glasses of wine, not Juliet.
She made uninteresting conversation with Label Guy, who’d been seated to her left. He didn’t reintroduce himself, unfortunately, so he might always be Label Guy to her. She had a much better conversation with Arika Batiste to her right, after she’d managed to push through the awe-factor.
Most of the people she’d met this year hadn’t been absolute industry legends. She’d gotten used to meeting the people similar to herself, younger people, people currently making their names.
Darcy would say she did a pretty damn good job of focusing on Arika and not on how Juliet – seated across the table and four seats down to her right – was just oh, so friendly and chatty with Erin.
“Mind if I squeeze in here?” Shelby asked, ducking down next to her, between her and Label Guy, looking between them.
Label Guy gave her a smile, patting his mouth with a napkin before he stood up. “I’m going to use the restroom, so feel free to take my seat.”
“I’d love to. Promise to give it back in a bit,” Shelby called after him, as she slid into his seat.
Shelby had been making the rounds through the meal. She’d made a point to sit beside every single person, so maybe that was what made the dinner party be labeled as something that would be “personal.”
“How’s your night going, Darcy?” Shelby asked, settling in. “Arika treating you right?”
“You know I always am, shut it,” Arika reproached from Darcy’s other side.
Darcy grinned. “Yeah, of course. She’s been awesome. So has dinner. Seriously, thank you for inviting me to be on the album. I know I’m pretty new on the scene…”
She couldn’t help but dart her eyes over to Juliet, because she swore she felt Juliet looking at her. But when she checked, Juliet’s attention was firmly turned away.
Right.
She managed not to narrow her eyes when she turned back to Shelby, who was giving her a questioning stare.
“Sorry. Just… taking it all in.” Kind of true.
Shelby nodded. “Yeah, well, the thing is, everyone’s new at some point. But talent is talent.”
She felt her stomach somersault. Shelby Linwood was sitting here, telling her she was talented. Whatever Juliet was playing at was small potatoes compared to this.
“It’s kind of surreal,” she confessed, turning her entire attention to Shelby. “You know, thinking about where you came from, to all of this.”
She gestured around them, positive that Shelby would understand that she was referencing this insane house.
Shelby’s smile wasn’t sheepish, though, it was proud as she looked around. “Yeah. It is surreal. And you know what the trick is?”
If there was a trick, Darcy would kill to know it. Whatever trick there was to keeping her sanity as she navigated through their album’s release, through Juliet Jacobs, through… everything.
“Sometimes you just have to tell yourself you belong here, even when you might not feel like it,” Shelby imparted to her, pursing her lips. “Not always easy. But nothing’ll do you in like your own head, honey.”
“Yeah. That… makes a lot of sense,” she agreed.
It did make sense. And Darcy didn’t not feel like she belonged here. But… she didn’t want to belong here alone.
When Shelby got up to continue her mingling, she turned back to look at her dessert. She wished she’d taken Emerson or Blythe with her tonight, despite the Juliet of it all.
As someone came by to start clearing dessert plates a little while later, Darcy felt good about leaving. She’d confronted Juliet, even if it hadn’t really given her many answers.
Okay, no, that was a lie. The answer was Juliet wasn’t hitting on her. And it had been the most logical scenario in the first place.
And she’d gotten some sage wisdom from Shelby herself. Overall, a success.
Other people had started to stand, getting a nightcap, mingling. She was one of the only people left sitting at the table.
She noted that the woman clearing the plates had her stack pretty high, so she grabbed her own and walked with her to the kitchen.
“Thanks,” the woman gave her a small, appreciative smile.
“No problem.”
“Darcy?” The woman asked before Darcy turned to leave.
She paused. “Uh… yeah?”
Not that she really minded, but she did find it super weird that someone who worked for Shelby would stop her to ask for a picture or something.
The woman didn’t ask for a picture or say anything about music, though. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a slip of paper that had Darcy’s name scrawled across it in pretty penmanship. “This is for you. I’d planned on giving it to you when I cleared your plate.”
With that, the woman shot her another politely warm smile and went back to the dining room.
Darcy blinked after her, confusion sliding through her.
Had Shelby’s housekeeper – or whoever she was – given Darcy her number?! Had Juliet started telling people, tonight of all nights, that she was a lesbian?!
Adrenaline rushed through her, her heart rate picking up in her chest. Her face felt hot.
She’d known something was coming. She’d known, and yet –
All of the tumult inside of her came to a screeching halt as she flipped the paper open. In that same script that her name was written in, was an address. And four other random numbers across the bottom of the paper, whatever that was.
Darcy whipped out her phone so hastily, she nearly flung it from her hand across the room, as she searched the location of that address.
It was another house in the Hills, about four miles away. No way the woman who’d just given Darcy this paper could own that house; Darcy couldn’t even afford that house.
She knew it was Juliet’s home, even without a single shred of evidence on the paper to support her theory.
Rolling her eyes down at the address, she shoved the paper in the pocket of her jumpsuit.
Mind game, she reminded herself. For all she knew, she was going to show up, and Juliet would drop pig’s blood on her or something.
She wasn’t going to go; she wasn’t an idiot.
No matter what anyone would be able to say about her once her career was over and done, the number one thing that Darcy had forced into her mind was this: she would not allow Juliet to be her downfall.
She belonged here.