Chapter Seven Eleanor
“What do you mean, you misplaced your ID?” I ask in a measured voice. “Why isn’t it in your wallet?”
“I don’t know, Eleanor!” Adam shuffles through his wallet one more time. “There are a lot of things that don’t make sense to me right now.”
“Okay, well, let’s not panic.”
Adam is very clearly panicking. It’s written all over the guy—he’s practically breaking out into a cold sweat. And while this is admittedly the last thing we need right now, it’s not quite the crisis Adam is making it out to be.
“Tyler, do you really even need to see it?” I ask. “I mean, you know us.”
“I know you.” He rubs the back of his neck, awkward, and it’s all the answer I need. I may not always play by the rules, as Adam has been quick to point out, but I’m not going to put Tyler in a position he’s uncomfortable with.
I turn back to Adam. “You didn’t lose your wallet. Only the ID is missing, right?”
He nods.
“So most likely, you left it at a bar. We can retrace our steps and try to find it. Worst-case scenario, you’ll get Tyler a copy in a few days.”
I want this taken care of today as much as Adam does. But the reality is, it won’t actually be processed today, whether it gets filed before the courts close in a couple hours or not. It’ll take at least a week. I’m not sure if Adam understands that. Or if now is the time to mention it.
“Look, why don’t you guys go ahead and sign the forms,” Tyler says. “I’ll hold on to the paperwork until you recover your ID. You can text me a picture of it for my records.”
“Thanks, Ty.” I take the pen he’s offering and sign everywhere he points, trying not to think too hard about the fact that I’m signing annulment papers in the middle of a strip club because that’s just asking for a depression spiral, and I do not have the time.
Adam signs after me, and Tyler taps the papers into a neat stack. “I’m going to take these to my office. I’ll come back out in a few to say goodbye, okay?”
“Sounds good.”
He heads backstage, back to the quiet of his office, and then there were two.
Adam’s plate is nearly empty now, any remaining food gone cold. Without the distraction of Adam eating, and without Tyler here as a buffer, suddenly everything feels more surreal. Sitting here in a strip club with Adam, of all people.
“Thank you.”
I lift my gaze to meet his. “For what?”
“Offering to help me track down my ID.”
“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” We’ve cracked a few jokes, had a decent conversation, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to drop my guard.
It’s in my best interest to stay on top of Adam and make sure he doesn’t pull any more shit.
Not that I can think of any scenario in which sabotaging this annulment would prove beneficial to him.
The point is, Dempsey’s show is just six hours away; I have to stay vigilant.
I shift my focus away from Adam’s frown and watch as one of the dancers who performed earlier comes out to work the floor. She’s clearly trying to tempt someone into a lap dance, or maybe a visit to one of the VIP areas behind the heavy velvet curtains toward the back.
She gives Adam a once-over as she saunters past our table, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Too busy observing me with this contemplative expression on his face. Like he’s trying to read my mind. Which is funny, because he’s spent most of today acting as though he already has me figured out.
I’ve gotten used to that, since leaving Exeter. People hear the rumors, some bastardized version of what went down with Griffin, and that’s all they need or want to know.
“I still appreciate it,” Adam says. “Even if you don’t want to be helping me.”
I glance toward the men seated right up against the stage and watch them toss out a few singles.
Then I heave a great big sigh and swivel back to face Adam.
I don’t know why he’s picking at this, but if he’s looking for confirmation, I’ll give it to him.
“It’s not my first choice of activity. Can you blame me? ”
“It’s more than that. I get the feeling you still think I’m actively trying to screw you over.
” He leans forward again. Elbows on the table, eyes boring into mine.
“You may not believe this, but nothing I’ve done is personal.
I really didn’t know you were the one having dinner with the guys last night until I saw you there.
And maybe crashing was bad form, but I saw an opportunity, and I took it.
That’s all there is to it. You would have done the same thing in my shoes. ”
I tap my fingertips against the table. Adam and I never had a rivalry, before he signed Maya.
We’ve always been competitive, though. Even if a part of me had resented Adam for being born with a foot in the door of the music industry, it was plain as day that he worked hard to make a name for himself.
We both did. And we both wanted to be the one to discover the next big thing.
I thought I’d done it when I first got my hands on Dempsey’s demo. And I distinctly remember Adam’s reaction to it.
“If I ask you something, will you give me an honest answer?”
“Maybe.” Adam crooks a smile and nods. “Shoot.”
“Why do you want to sign Dempsey?”
“What do you mean?” He’s gone sort of shifty, no longer holding eye contact with me.
“You don’t even like their music,” I accuse. “So is it only because you know they can make you money?”
His gaze flashes back to mine. “No. That’s—of course I like them.”
I raise my eyebrow. “I tried to sign Dempsey for Exeter years ago,” I say, pacing my words deliberately. “You said they were unoriginal. And I believe the word you used to describe Curtis’s drumming was ‘sloppy’?”
I know he remembers his comments as well as I do.
He takes a long drink of water, stalling. “I always liked them,” he says eventually.
“You said Freddie Dempsey sounded like an off-brand Kurt Cobain.”
Adam sighs through his nose, sounding sheepish. “When you brought in their demo I was just being…”
“Jealous?” I supply with a goading smile.
His jaw ticks. “Pretentious.”
“That too.”
No good can come from continuing to pick at this scab, so I pointedly shift my attention to the stage.
The dancer fireman spins down the pole and squats when her heels hit the stage.
Her hair is cropped into a blunt bob with bangs.
It may or may not be a wig, but either way she’s rocking it.
And I know for a fact that haircut is not easy to pull off.
Iris tried it last summer and spent the entire month of July looking like a thirteen-year-old boy who had just rolled out of bed.
She’s been desperately growing her bangs out for the wedding ever since.
Adam is still staring at me.
It’s a heady thing, holding Adam’s attention when there’s a topless woman dancing fifteen feet to his left.
I grab my tote bag and push to my feet. “I’m going to use the restroom. Why don’t you start looking through any pictures you have from last night, see if you can figure out the name of the bar we went to after the chapel.”
Unsurprisingly, since I haven’t seen a single woman on the floor besides those who work here, the ladies’ room is unoccupied.
I pee and wash my hands, and then press my damp palms to my neck.
I linger a few extra moments in front of the sinks, if only because it’s a momentary escape from the heavy bass and flashing lights and Adam’s not-altogether-unflattering attention.
It’s not exactly an oasis in here, though, so I give myself a stern reminder that Adam is the competition and it’s wholly irrelevant that his stare makes something spark across my skin, and then I head back to the table.
When I get there, Tyler is in Adam’s seat. “Where’s Adam?”
Tyler gestures behind him. “He needed to make a few calls to follow up on the ID. No phones allowed on the floor, so he went outside.”
I nod and slide into the chair across from him.
It’s far from silent in here, but it feels distinctly uncomfortable all the same, now that Tyler and I are alone and without any specific business to discuss.
He’s ditched his tie and rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, making him look decidedly more laid-back than I feel.
“Wow, I sort of wish we could get stoned right now.”
“Technically, we could,” Tyler offers, but he seems to know I’m not actually up for it.
“I’m sorry,” I say after a moment. “That I didn’t let you know I was going to be in town.”
Tyler gives an easy shrug, slouched low in his chair. “No worries. I know you were here on business.”
That may be true, but it’s also pretty obvious at this point that if this bullshit with Adam hadn’t happened, I would’ve had plenty of downtime. I should’ve called. But the truth is, Tyler never even crossed my mind until I needed something from him, which makes me feel supremely shitty.
“Still. I should’ve reached out sooner.” I should have reached out a long, long time ago.
But again, Tyler waves this off, because he is too nice.
“How’ve you been?” Something about the way he tips his head tells me he already knows the answer.
It’s a relief, not having to pretend everything is perfect for once.
Not that my friends and family back home wouldn’t support me if they knew I’ve been struggling.
They would. My sister would gently suggest I take some time off to “complete my healing journey.” My mom would offer to let me come home for a little while, just until I get my feet back under me.
But I’ve given them no indication that I’m going through a hard time. In fact, I’ve put all of my effort into convincing everyone I’m living my best life.
Given the circumstances, I don’t think I could pull that off right now, even if I had the energy to try.
“I’ve been better.” I swallow and reach for my water glass, even though there’s only melting ice left. I fidget with the straw. “Things were okay for a while, after Griffin. I went to work for a different label, and I like it there a lot. But I might get fired soon? So that’s a bummer.”