EPILOGUE #2
When she turns to the woman, her smile is one hundred percent genuine and also completely aware of the conversational subtext.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt! But did I hear you might be interested in booking Dom for an event?” Phoenix plucks a business card out of the stack conspicuously placed in a little glass bowl on the bar. “His rates start at two hundred an hour, not including mileage reimbursement.”
The woman takes the card. Looks at it. Looks at Phoenix. Looks at me.
“Right.” She clears her throat and busies herself tucking the business card into her tiny clutch purse. “I’ll…certainly reach out.”
She retreats into the crowd without looking back.
When I turn back, Phoenix is giving me a look of pure innocence as she sips her cocktail. As if I can’t tell she is entirely too pleased with herself.
“Two hundred an hour?”
“Starting rate,” she confirms. “Obviously you’ll need a supplement for hours past midnight. And major holidays. Those should be time-and-a-half at minimum.”
“You know I worked for like a tenth of that rate until recently, right?”
She tilts her head to the side, making a show of considering that. “Well, that was then and this is now. With the way that woman was eye-fucking you, she’s lucky I didn’t quote her $400.”
I feel a surge of emotion at her very obvious and completely unnecessary possessiveness. This girl is impossible and wonderful and I can’t quite believe I’m someone she wants.
“I love you.”
The words fall out of me like something knocked loose. No preamble. No lead-up. Just the raw, unvarnished truth, landing between us like a bomb going off.
Phoenix’s hand stills on her cocktail glass.
The silence that follows stretches for exactly two heartbeats, but in that space my brain has already sprinted through every possible catastrophic outcome.
Too soon. Too much. She’s Phoenix Riviera and I’m a bartender from nowhere with a juvenile criminal record and barely a suitcase worth of clothes to my name.
“Forget I said that.” My voice comes out strangled. “That was…I shouldn’t have…nevermind. The cocktails are stronger than I thought, and you were being sweet about the business cards, and I just—“
Phoenix’s hands catch my face, fingers pressing into my jaw on either side until she forces my lips to purse and I stop talking.
“What I feel for you is impossible to put into adequate words.” Her eyes are luminous with emotion as she stares up at me. “You saved me. You’ve been exactly what I needed from the day we met.”
Her thumb traces the edge of my cheekbone. One of her eyes glistens, but she doesn’t blink.
“Of course I love you.”
I close the distance between us and her mouth meets mine halfway. She tastes like elderflower and prickly pear and the sharp, undeniable sweetness of something I spent thirty years convinced I’d never deserve.
MASON
The event coordinator finds me near the catering station, clipboard pressed to her chest like a shield.
“Mr. Aldrich? There’s a situation at the entrance.”
I set down my champagne glass. This fundraiser in support of arts education for underprivileged youth is Phoenix’s first event since she returned from that European press tour, so it makes sense that something is going wrong. I’ve been putting out fires of different types for weeks now.
“What kind of situation?” I ask, afraid I already know the answer.
“Someone’s trying to get in without being on the list.” She lowers her voice, glancing around like she’s afraid of being overheard.
“She’s claiming to be Phoenix’s plus-one, but I don’t have any additional guests listed.
Security has her held at the gate, but she’s becoming…
” She pauses, searching for the diplomatic word. “Difficult to manage.”
The sinking feeling starts somewhere in the pit of my stomach and spreads outward.
I already know exactly what’s happening and my level of eagerness to deal with it is somewhere below zero.
But better me than Phoenix.
“I’ll handle it.”
The coordinator’s relief is palpable. “Thank you. Please follow me.”
We make our way through the crowd. Phoenix is deep in discussion with a producer near the fireplace, her hands moving animatedly as she talks. I make a point of skirting around a pillar in the hopes she doesn’t notice me leaving.
At the entrance, two security guards in dark suits flank a figure I’d recognize anywhere—the platinum hair, the fur coat that’s completely unnecessary for LA weather, the rigid posture of someone who refuses to acknowledge they’re not in control of the situation.
Victoria Riviera.
She spots me the moment I step through the door, and her expression shifts from imperious annoyance to desperate calculation.
“Mason. Finally.” She brushes imaginary lint from her sleeve. “You need to explain to these gentlemen that there’s clearly been some kind of mistake.”
I nod to the security guards. “I’ve got it from here.”
They step back but don’t leave, which I appreciate.
“Victoria.” I keep my voice level. Pleasant, even. “Phoenix fired you six weeks ago.”
“That was just a misunderstanding.” The words come out smooth and practiced, like she’s been rehearsing them. “Phoenix was under enormous stress. The press tour, the early negative reviews, that awful business in Maine. She wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“The termination letter was pretty clear. And I sent you a copy by certified mail.”
“Well, you would know everything about what Phoenix does, wouldn’t you?
” Victoria’s eyes narrow, all pretense of warmth evaporating.
“You’ve always had too much control over her.
This is exactly the kind of thing that happens when professional boundaries get stomped into the dirt.
Don’t think I don’t know what you let happen to her out in the boondocks. ”
I let her finish.
This is a technique I learned years ago—let people say the thing they’ve prepared. Get it out of their system. Once they’ve deployed their best ammunition, it stops having power over the conversation.
Victoria seems to mistake my silence for uncertainty. She presses forward.
“Phoenix needs guidance. I’m her mother and I’ve always known what’s best for her career. This little rebellion she’s going through will pass, and when it does, I’ll still be here.”
She is breathing hard, chest rising and falling like a bellows as she works herself up.
“Victoria.” I keep my voice quiet. No malice, because malice would give her something to push against, and Victoria Riviera is very good at pushing against things. “Phoenix is an adult who made a clear decision. In writing and under the advisement of legal council.”
Victoria’s jaw tightens.
“That decision stands,” I continue. “Your name isn’t on the guest list because you’re no longer affiliated with Phoenix in any professional capacity. If you have concerns you’d like to raise, you’re welcome to contact her new management through the appropriate channels.”
Victoria’s hands clench at her sides, knuckles going white. For a moment, I think she might actually try to hit me.
“Phoenix is using you.” The words come out like venom.
“Just like she uses everyone. You think you’re special?
You think this…whatever you’ve convinced yourself you have…
is going to last? That girl has only ever cared about herself.
She keeps you around because she needs you.
Once you’re no longer useful to her, that will be the end of that. ”
The old version of me would have flinched. Would have let those words burrow under my skin and fester, feeding every insecurity I’ve spent years trying to outgrow.
But I’m not that person anymore.
“Goodnight, Victoria.” I turn to the nearest security guard. “There’s an active restraining order. If she won’t leave voluntarily, please contact the police.”
I don’t wait for Victoria’s response and certainly don’t look back to see her expression or hear whatever parting shot she might decide to make. I just walk back inside, closing the door firmly behind me.
Phoenix is exactly where I left her, but she’s watching the entrance now. Her conversation with the producer has wound down and it’s a rare moment when she has been left to her own devices.
She spots me coming through the crowd and her eyebrows lift in question. “Where did you go?”
I pick up a champagne flute as a server passes with a full tray. “Nowhere.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Before I can think of a suitable deflection, a crashing sound comes from outside, combined with raised voices.
Phoenix gives me a droll look. “Sure sounds like nothing.”
I shrug. “It’s handled.”
“Mason Aldrich.” She sets down her glass, turning to face me fully. “Did you just have my mother removed from this event?”
“Technically, security had her removed. I just provided moral support.”
“You didn’t have to do that alone, you know.” She reaches out, her fingers brushing the lapel of my jacket. “I can fight my own battles.”
“I know you can. But you were having a good time. You needed to focus on the event.”
“What I need,” she says, stepping closer until there’s barely an inch between us, “is for you to understand something.”
I wait, more than a little curious where she is going with this.
“I don’t know if I’ll always need you, Mason.” Her amber eyes hold mine, steady and certain. “But I will definitely always want you. Those aren’t the same thing.”
A warm pressure starts in my chest and spreads outward until I can feel it in my fingertips, my toes, every nerve ending I possess.
I cup her face in my hands, watching the way her pupils dilate, the way her breath catches.
“I love you.”
It might be the first time I’ve said baldly, but the words come easy because I’ve been expressing a similar enough sentiment for years.
Her mouth curves into a smug smile. “I know.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you love that about me.”
I do. I really do.
ATTICUS
Phoenix bounces through the front door like she’s mainlining pure caffeine.