Chapter 25 #2
Both of her brothers laughed again, which she barely heard over the rushing of blood in her ears, her breath coming faster.
Her mom’s voice was quiet – because wasn’t it always when it came to Harrison? – “Honey…”
Harrison held up his hand in her direction to keep her quiet, maintaining his attention solely on Juliet. “For that matter, you should have discussed it with me.”
“I don’t have to discuss every decision I make with you,” she challenged without missing a beat.
The fire in her voice was evident, clearer now than it ever was when she talked to Harrison.
But she couldn’t tamp it down if she tried.
Not when all she was imagining was flipping the table over onto him, staining the pristine white tablecloths he cared so much about being immaculate.
Maybe, ideally, a fork would stick deeply into him with the force.
Cash and Harry’s snickering abruptly cut off, and she could see peripherally the way both of their wide eyes snapped in her direction. No one talked back to Harrison, and it was a lesson they’d all learned at some point.
“Honey,” her mom said again, this time aimed at her, her lips tugged up into a smile that was so very clearly strained. “Let’s just have brunch.”
She could see the vein in Harrison’s forehead pulsing, and she felt as satisfied as she possibly could in this moment.
“I see,” he muttered, darkly. He leaned back in his chair, staring her down, before he slowly stood up.
She sat straight up in her chair, facing forward across the table. Staring her mom down as impassively as she could while her heart slammed against her ribs, as Harrison slowly came to stand next to her.
He put his hand down on the table next to her water, towering above Juliet, close enough that she could feel him, feel his imposing stature.
Tightly, she set her jaw, tilting her head up.
“And… where did you get this illustrious career, Juliet? The one that you don’t have to discuss with me before making decisions?
” He asked, staring her down. He leaned in closer, his tone taunting her when he added, “How did that happen? Who paid for the voice lessons? The guitar lessons? Private one-on-one schooling? Flights to and from L.A.? Who opened those fucking doors, huh?”
By the time he finished, he’d lowered himself to be mere inches from her face. Hissing the words directly at her profile, not backing away.
Harrison had never gotten more physical than this, but it was always enough to make her know that – technically – he could. Harrison was a man who could, really, do whatever he wanted. And he loved to remind her of that.
It was why she’d learned not to try to push this boundary. Because she truly believed he enjoyed a showing like this every so often, putting her in her place.
She didn’t say anything. All she could do was control her own breathing. Deep inhale. Hold. Slow exhale.
A glint of satisfaction worked over Harrison’s expression as he breathed out a humorless laugh. “That’s what I thought.”
With that, he knocked his knuckles against the table close enough to her water to cause ripples through it, and then stood back up.
“We need to watch this Dary Kincaid situation,” he stated, in a voice that let her know in no uncertain terms that this was the way forward.
“‘Porchlight’ is over, and you’ve already committed to the soundtrack.
But if anything else starts cropping up…
” He narrowed his eyes at something invisible, that ruminating, angry stare making her feel a deep, gnawing sense of foreboding.
“I’m going to have to have a chat with Brad and Steven at Copper Canyon about where they see We, The Romantics’ future.
The runway they’re giving Darcy is fucking outrageous.
The label only has so much money to shell out on marketing and promotion, and if they’re intending to funnel even more into Darcy…
” Harrison shook his head. “Yeah, we’ll see about that. ”
Ice slid through her veins, making her freeze completely.
Harrison had such deep pockets and connections, he had sway at Copper Canyon.
And this was why she’d been an idiot to push it, no matter how inflammatory Harrison’s comments about Darcy.
Because Harrison wasn’t one for empty threats, and the last thing she wanted was for something to bounce back on Darcy.
Even when she’d wanted to bring about Darcy’s downfall last summer, she hadn’t wanted Harrison to do it.
Now… it made her stomach ache, and that spot between her eyes started tingling with the telltale signs of a migraine now that the adrenaline was starting to melt away.
“I mean, after the song for the soundtrack… I don’t see why we’d be working on anything again any time soon,” she tightly agreed, looking down at the half-eaten bowl of fruit salad, cottage cheese, and the pieces of toast on the small plate next to it that she definitely wasn’t going to finish.
“Good,” Harrison stated, firmly. There was both a threat and a promise carved into that single word that Juliet didn’t doubt for a second.
Juliet wished Laura was back from her holiday.
She wished Robbie wasn’t at a private resort in Fiji.
And mostly, she wished she had Darcy here.
But that was the worst possible thing to wish for, after this morning with Harrison.
So, actually, she didn’t wish that; she hoped Darcy would always stay far, far away from here.
Thief – 6:43P.M.
Are you using… The Notebook?!
She looked down at Darcy’s text, in response to Juliet having sent a picture of her writing a ridiculous song in the notebook Darcy had given her.
It’s just not Christmas without that strung popcorn/
Who needs presents under the tree on Christmas morn/
If you ain’t got that string with kernels and cranberry/
Your holiday just won’t be so merry
Thief – 6:43P.M.
Also rhyming cranberry with merry?
Juliet, I think you’re better than that
She chuckled, leaning back in her chair in the makeshift backstage area set up for the musical guests at the festival. There were a few other singers – mostly local talent – who’d been performing on and off throughout the day. But Juliet was the final act.
What could possibly be a better way for Harrison to sell as many tickets as possible? He got Juliet here singing a setlist of holiday songs without needing to spend a dime.
Juliet – 6:44P.M.
You know what? Using cranberry is actually far less conducive to having a halfway decent rhyme. If you think you can do better, you are MORE than welcome to try
Seriously. Do it
She reluctantly put her phone face down as she heard a knock on the door behind her. Wisely, too, given that her mom pushed it open without waiting for any response.
“You ready, Jules?” Her mom asked, closing the door behind her.
She met her mom’s eyes in the mirror, rolling her lips tightly as she hummed in affirmation.
“You need anything?” Her mom asked, then, taking another step forward toward Juliet.
“Nope,” she popped the p. “I do shows much bigger than this without needing anyone for last-minute prepping,” she reminded her, loftily. “I just ended a whole tour, as you brought up earlier.”
Her mother nodded, glancing away from Juliet as her eyebrows furrowed deeply on her forehead.
She swept her hands down the classic-looking spotless white tuxedo dress she wore, accented with red buttons.
It was a sign that she was uncomfortable, even before she asked, “Jules, what in the world was that all about this morning?”
Juliet’s jaw tightened so much she was concerned her teeth might crack, agitation lacing through her. She should have seen this coming; she’d only thought it wouldn’t happen because of how much her mother hated confrontation.
“Mom, I’m getting ready for my set.” She arched her a look in the mirror, still not looking directly back at her. “I don’t really want to lose focus.”
Usually that would be enough to make her mom turn right around, apologizing for her intrusion.
So, when she didn’t immediately exit, Juliet was shocked. Even more shocked when she took another step forward and said, “I’m worried something is going on with you.”
Now, Juliet did whip around to stare directly at her. She wasn’t even… she didn’t know how to possibly describe what she felt. Incredulous? Angry? Baffled? Hurt?
What the fuck?
“Interesting. You don’t usually express concern about anything going on with me,” she stated, evenly, turning back to look down at the notebook.
She didn’t want to look at her mom. She didn’t want to see the hurt that she knew would flash over her face, because she didn’t enjoy hurting her mother. But she was also unwilling to keep her mouth shut.
Alarmingly, it felt like Darcy’s influence.
Her mom inhaled sharply, then was completely silent for several seconds.
Juliet kept her eyes trained on her notebook from Darcy, not looking away from it.
Leather-bound with a little tie in the front – it looked like the ones she’d frequently seen Darcy with.
But it was the only gift she’d gotten in…
she didn’t remember how long from someone that was thoughtful.
She sometimes received holiday or birthday gifts from her mom, but they were always impersonal.
Jewelry, a designer purse. She and Robbie had long decided not to exchange anything; they could both simply purchase anything they wanted for themselves.
Laura didn’t give her gifts, because Juliet was her boss and that didn’t feel… right to her.
Think you can fill this up before I fill mine? Prove it. Write your heart out
Darcy had written on the front page. Juliet had pretended to tear it out, but, in all actuality, liked to look at the inscription every time she opened it.
“Because I know you’re always handling your own business,” her mom said, eventually, once she’d found her equilibrium and recovered.
Clearly, she wouldn’t tell Juliet that the comment hurt or attempt to dig deeper.
Classic Tiffany. “You’re always good. You’ve got Robbie, your album did so well.
I don’t need to be worried. But… you’re in there, back-talking Harrison like that? It’s not like you.”
No, it usually wasn’t. Usually, she was able to keep her mouth clamped shut and let the rage burn through her system.
Maybe she’d get a migraine and go sleep it off.
Maybe she’d go and get drunk with Laura.
Maybe she’d spend the night rage writing songs – sometimes, they were her most passionate and resonant ones!
But her stare was still locked on that notebook, and she heard her phone vibrate, and –
“Harrison called Darcy – someone he has never met, who has become someone–” She bit the rest of that sentence off, unsure of whatever the hell it was going to be, anyway.
She took a deep breath, “Someone that’s become a friend to me, trash and a tight piece of ass while we were having brunch, and… you’re going to come to lecture me?”
She closed her eyes, reaching up and rubbing her temples.
“He – you know how Harrison is. He’s particular. And he cares so much about your success, he just–”
Typically, Juliet could get through this. She could usually let her mother tell herself – and thus, Juliet – whatever she needed to hear to make peace with the man she was married to.
But not right now. “You know, Mom? Whether anyone likes it or not, and clearly I struggled with it: Darcy is incredibly talented. What I said to Harrison is true. Being associated with Darcy is a good thing at this point. Sorry that he doesn’t like it.
” She snapped her eyes open, turning to look at her mom again, unable to stop herself from tacking on, “And she has worked so hard to get to where she’s at right now. ”
Her mom met her stare this time, her lips pursed as she nodded, taking in Juliet’s words.
Before, finally, she asked, “Okay, Jules. I understand that’s how you feel.
But… before you go mouthing off like that again, you really need to think about what Harrison said to you.
Who paid for your voice lessons to get you to the next level?
Who paid for your fancy tutor – who had a focus in poetry to help with your songwriting – while flying you to L.A.
to open all these doors you now get to benefit from? ”
“And he never lets me forget it,” she snapped, the anger and fucking embarrassment that it was true surging together inside of her, making her feel sick to her stomach.
Her mom heaved a heavy sigh. “Do you remember what it was like before Harrison?” She came to stand next to Juliet’s chair, ducking slightly so they were both staring at their reflections in the mirror.
She reached up and gently brushed back a piece of Juliet’s hair in a movement that Juliet was positive her mother believed was comforting.
“Do you remember what we had before him?”
She first studied her mom in the mirror, before she turned to look directly at her.
Again, she couldn’t help but think back to Darcy and her family.
Making fun of one another when they missed a step in their line dancing, and then all laughing about it, together.
Stringing up popcorn, because it had been all they’d had, and now they did it because they chose to.
Because it was full of memories with one another.
Her mom had always been beautiful. Juliet remembered that when she was little. Even before she had Harrison’s money and stylists and access to the best of the best of everything. She was still there. Almost twenty years older now, hidden under the designer brands. But she was there.
“Each other?” She found herself saying, the words rasping from her throat.
“Nothing,” her mom corrected, firmly. “What I remember is trying to find out where our next meals were coming from. How to make you think that sleeping in the car was a choice, a little slumber party, so that you didn’t realize we couldn’t afford the motel next to the pageant center.”
Whatever hopeful pipedream she’d had of her mom seeing her side – seeing her – was sharply deflated.
Juliet drew in a long breath, turning back to look at herself and only herself in the mirror.
Harrison had given them everything. He was the reason she had all of this.
And his connections with the executives at the label were the reason why she was contractually obligated to perform at four of Harrison’s events every year – not including the promotions! – publicly aligning herself with him.
Yeah, they were family.
But he’d made sure to put it all in writing for her to sign when she’d barely been eighteen, just in case she ever started to think otherwise.