Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“That was the best! Eeek! Can we just do a tour together? Seriously, I just love performing with you, girl!” Fiona throws an arm around me as we walk off stage after absolutely killing it. The performance went great, and I would love to do more professionally with my best friend.
“I think that would be so great, but I might take a little pause on tours. You know, now that I can. But I love sharing a stage with you, Fi!” I kiss her on the cheek and bask in the glow of a great performance.
“Right, of course! Anytime—you name the place, and I’m there.
” She grins as we pause to pose for some photos for the press backstage.
Fiona steers us away from a small crowd gathered around Kane Daughtry, and I’m grateful she spotted him first. He calls out to us to come take a photo, but I have no interest in whatever he’s trying to sell tonight, and there is no question where Fiona and my loyalties lie.
I know some people in the industry think it’s fine to try and work with Kane, but I would never trust the guy—plus he is a complete creep.
When Jack and Wells hired him as a Senior Vice President at Lux, Kane was supposed to be the whiz kid of all things cloud based in the tech world, but I think he is more of a whiz at pulling the wool over people’s eyes.
After Lux’s competitor released a cloud-based AI service named Meteor weeks before Lux filed their patent for their own nearly identical program, it wasn’t a surprise at all when Kane was fired soon after.
So no, I will not be taking any press photos with that bottom-dweller—and I already have to deal with my own personal creep tonight anyway.
I’ve been dreading this event but also counting down the days until it was over.
Arriving with Roman Cash, and allowing him to touch me, was awful.
He had to make passive aggressive comments that just solidified that the guy is a total puke.
At one point, his hand was sliding down too low on my lower back, and I reminded him that I may not have my pointy cowboy boots on, but I’d be glad to test how hard I can kick in my four-inch stiletto’s.
His hand didn’t waver after that.
I wish Jack or Wells could be here to run interference with him, but Thor has been in my line of sight most of the night.
Contractually, Roman and I just have to depart from the event together, walk into a single after-party, be photographed together, and then I am free as a bird.
I already have my caption ready to go on a post for tomorrow morning announcing our pseudo-mutual break-up.
Roman suggested we renegotiate, but there is absolutely nothing he could bring to the table that would make me want to extend the contract that we had to fight to shorten in the first place.
Fiona and I both change quickly into our gowns and make our way back to our table.
The emerald green dress I picked for tonight makes me feel like a princess—and I love that I got to choose it without being told what I was wearing without any input.
I don’t know how Max or whoever managed it, but Fiona and I are at the same small cocktail table with Roman.
To his left is some up-and-coming country artist, but I already forgot his name after he licked his lips while wiggling his eyebrows as he stared at my cleavage and my sweetheart neckline when we were introduced.
I bet he and Roman become best friends. Good for them, it seems like a fantastic fit.
As we walk up to our tables, I see Roman touching his nose in a way that makes me pause.
He’s supposed to be sober, from both drugs and alcohol.
I don’t think he had anything to drink tonight, but the way he touches his nose before he notices us approaching makes me wonder.
Tonight, Roman has been a little … twitchy for a lack of better word.
Roman stands and leans over to hug me and kiss my cheek, because of course a camera is right there as we arrive.
I take my seat next to Roman with my fake smile and pat his chest, while trying to look at his eyes.
I don’t have a lot of experience with drugs outside of what someone looks like abusing alcohol.
Do drugs make someone’s pupils larger or smaller? I can’t remember.
“Hey, are you okay?” I ask him, genuinely concerned.
“I am now that you’re back, babe! You looked hot up on stage; you looked pretty good too, Fiona.” She takes her seat on my other side and flashes a tight smile without responding to him. “Hey, you don’t have to be a bitch to me right now.” He leans closer as he seethes at her.
Fiona leans forward over my lap with a practiced smile so no one can read her lips, speaking quietly enough that only Roman and I can hear her.
“I can be whatever the hell I want to be, you douche nugget. I can’t wait until my girl is done with you and your bullshit.
You’re a disgusting person and I hope to never talk to you again after tonight.
” She winks at me as she sits back in her seat.
I try to suppress a giggle, but on the inside, I am cracking up.
Roman Cash is the definition of a douche nugget.
“We’re leaving in ten minutes, and I don’t want to hear you complain about it,” he barks at me before standing and going to the bar, hopefully just to mingle and not to get something to drink.
“You both looked great up there, seriously amazing,” the other guy at our table says. Jim? Phil? I don’t remember, and I don’t care.
“Thanks so much,” Fiona answers for both of us before turning her shoulder to him and facing me directly. Roman comes back a few minutes later and is clearly upset.
“What’s going on?” I ask as I lean closer, not to actually be closer to him, but I’m trying to see if I can smell any alcohol on him.
“Nothing. You just really impressed people with your performance tonight. It’s all that anyone wants to talk to me about and how great you are.”
“Okay?” I’m confused by his anger.
“That was the whole point—you were supposed to help my image by lifting me up. You were supposed to fucking help me.”
“I don’t understand, Roman. I’ve done that for the last year and a half.”
He puts his hand around the back of my neck and tightens his hand just a little too much as he leans in and growls into my ear, “Tomorrow, when you post this bullshit early breakup post, everyone is going to think I’m the reason that our relationship ended and you will still be America’s sweetheart and people will be mad at me.
Fans don’t buy music from artists they’re mad at, Tinsley.
This wasn’t supposed to have a negative impact on my fucking career. ”
I try to shake my head and get away from him, but he pulls me closer to him. To the cameras, we look like lovers in a close embrace, but there is no love here.
“You need to call off tomorrow, Tinsley. We can’t break up right after you stole the fucking show. Your fans will cause an uproar and mine will be mad at me for breaking up with America’s sweetheart with the great tits. We need more time.”
“We aren’t extending it, Roman. I’m done after tonight.”
“No,” he barks and hits the table. Fiona sits up straight and grabs my arm.
“Hey, back up, Roman. That isn’t cool. You don’t want to do this here. People are already looking, calm down,” Fiona rushes out as I can feel eyes on us.
“Then let’s do this somewhere else. We’re going to that party anyway; we can talk about it on the way. But know this: I don’t want to let you go, Tinsley.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I should get in a car alone with you, Roman.”
“Oh, for fucks sake, get over yourself. I’m not going to make a move. If I thought you’d be down for that, we would’ve had a much more enjoyable relationship.”
I roll my eyes. “You haven’t been lonely.”
His smile is wolfish. “No, I haven’t. And I won’t be later either.”
Puke.
“You guys are still getting the wrong kind of attention right now. Maybe it’s time to call it a night?” Fiona suggests and she’s not wrong.
“You’re right. Let’s go, Tinsley.” His arm around my back starts to pull me up out of my seat, whether I agree or not.
“Fi?” I ask, not sure what my options are here as I look for Thor in the crowd of security on the edges of the main celebrity area.
“I am right but so is Tinsley. She’s not going with you alone. I’m coming with.”
Roman snaps his head to her. “What?”
“The contract just says you have to leave together, it doesn’t say you have to leave just the two of you.
” She leans closer to Roman so no one else can tell what we’re talking about.
“Everyone knows my girl and I are best friends, so of course I would hop in with my bestie and her sweet boyfriend.” Fiona grins but her eyes—they clearly dare Roman to try her.
“Whatever. You have to sit in the back. It’s a tight fit for your ass but you can figure it out. I expect a believable exit in front of the paparazzi, Tinsley.”
I nod and grab Fiona’s hand. So long as she’s with me, I know everything is going to be okay.
If only I knew how much I would live to regret that decision.
As we make our way out of the crowded back hallways, we try not to get stopped too many times, but Fiona and I really did nail our duet tonight, so of course, everyone wants to talk to us or take a photo with us.
Roman goes from loosely holding my hand to wrapping his arm around me and holding my hip—tightly.
I lean in to whisper, trying not to make it a bigger deal than it is, despite the triggering panic that is rising inside at him touching me in this controlling way.
“Please loosen your grip or move your hand. You’re hurting me, Roman.
” His fingertips are firm enough that I won’t be surprised to see bruises there tomorrow.
He leans his forehead against mine, just as a group of photographers come over to where we’re standing. He puts his lips against mine—which is not part of our deal—and whispers, “I don’t fucking care, Tinsley.”