Chapter 4
“All My Friends” - A Day to Remember
Rhett
My tour schedule is waiting in my inbox when I park in the underground garage of the Atlantis for poker night. I open it before getting out of the car. New York City, Boston, Cincinnati, Chicago, Seattle. My heart pounds faster just scanning the list. Nashville.
Will he show up? Come listen to his kid play? Or will he be too busy doing his own shows to pay any attention to me? It’s hard to believe I’ll be in the same city as my dad in a few weeks. I haven’t seen him in five years.
I slide my phone into my pocket and head upstairs to Pierce’s flat.
The label has a lot riding on this tour, and I can’t afford to let them down by thinking about Randy Cole.
The album is doing well, and several of my songs are climbing the charts.
I didn’t get to choose my band members, but I met them a few weeks ago, and they seem great. My manager, Marcus, is cool too.
There’s nothing to worry about. So then why do I feel so apprehensive about the whole thing?
I punch the lift button for Pierce’s floor and force myself to think about something else. Images of Saylor in her little bowler hat pop into my mind. She had no idea how damn cute she looked in that thing.
I recognized her the second I saw her face, which was only after I kept her from face-planting down a flight of stairs. I lied about forgetting her name, because I wasn’t sure she remembered me, and there is nothing worse than being the one forgotten.
Our kisses were terrible, that much was true. What else can you expect from a couple of first-timers who don’t have a fucking clue what they’re doing? If she’d give me a chance, I could show her exactly how much I’ve learned in the past decade.
I wasn’t sure I’d hear from her after I scrawled my digits on her box of shit, so I was surprised when a random number popped up on my screen with a link to a TikTok video. At first I thought it was a scam text, and I was about to delete it when another message appeared—a single clown emoji.
I clicked through to watch the video, which was about the creepiest dolls I’ve ever seen. They weren’t the horror movie variety, and that somehow made them even worse. They looked real. It was disturbing. Laughing, I texted her back.
I’m gonna have nightmares for a month. Thanks for that.
She responded with the victory sign emoji. That only made me smile harder. What is it about this girl that makes me feel lighter?
I snap a goofy-ass selfie in the elevator and send it to her, without a fucking reason except that I want to hear from her again.
Tonight’s poker game proceeds the way they usually do.
Maeve is uptight when I tell everyone I’m going on tour for six weeks.
Heath and Walker can barely keep their hands to themselves.
Pierce looks like he has a stick shoved so far up his ass he can taste the bark.
And Lux brought her boyfriend—a first for our group.
Fortunately, Slate and I have become good friends since he got me into rehab.
When the game is over, I head to the kitchen to refill my glass.
I need something to help me relax, and since weed is no longer in the picture for me, Pierce’s top-shelf whiskey will have to do.
I’m trying not to stress about the tour, but so far I’ve been largely unsuccessful.
I knock a shot back and am pouring another when Lux walks in.
She leans against the sleek counter, watching me. “Hey. Everything okay?”
I toss back the second shot and wipe my mouth. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You didn’t seem as thrilled about the tour as I would have expected.”
“I’m excited.”
“Rhett.” She touches my arm. “Isn’t this everything you’ve ever wanted?”
“Of course it is.” I spin my glass on the wooden countertop. “It’s just—” I rake fingers through my hair, searching for the right words. Lux is the only person here I can be honest with.
“Just what?”
I glance at her and shrug. “I’m scared.”
“You’re scared,” she parrots back. She looks like she isn’t sure she heard me correctly.
“I’ve been clean for four months.” And my entire career is riding on me staying that way.
“And you think the tour will mess with that?”
“Do you know what it’s like out there?”
“Not exactly. But that doesn’t mean you have to be a part of it, does it?”
I shake my head. “The pressure—it’s intense.”
“What if you took someone with you? To help?”
“Help with what?” There’s something crusted on the countertop that Pierce’s maid must have missed. I scratch at it with my thumbnail.
“To, like, help you say no?” Lux says.
“What, like a handler?”
“Sort of.” Her delicate shoulders rise and fall. “Someone to remind you of why you’re clean in the first place.”
I shoot her a look. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“My god, Rhett. That’s not what I was suggesting. Just a mate to stand beside you.”
“I don’t know. People will get suspicious. The record label can’t find out about the rehab.”
“What if your handler was a girl?”
“You mean so I could bang her instead of shooting up?”
She looks nonplussed. “Of course not. But what if you let people think you were dating? As a way to explain her presence.”
What she’s suggesting works its way into my brain. “A fake relationship.”
“Exactly.”
I let myself picture it for just a second. “That could be . . . fun.” I’m sure the grin on my face looks malicious, but I can’t help it. It does sound like fun.
“If you can find someone for the job.”
I fight the urge to chuckle. “I already have the perfect person in mind.”
Now I just need her to agree.
* * *
I walk back to the poker room with buoyed spirits. If Lux’s plan really works, and I can get Saylor to agree to it . . . The thought of having her on tour with me has adrenaline pumping through my veins.
Pierce has finally loosened his tie and is staring glumly at the stack of chips in front of him. He looks up when I sit down, and I can tell he’s about to start interrogating me about the tour. I need to redirect, and fast.
“You’ll never believe who I saw together at the Carlton,” I say, more loudly than necessary, but everyone stops talking and looks at me. I keep my gaze focused on Maeve. She narrows her eyes. “Maeve and Preston Ansley.”
Pierce snorts loudly. I expect Maeve to sock his arm, but she only intensifies her glare at me, a death threat now lurking in those dark depths.
“I didn’t realize it was a crime,” she says. Her face has taken on a scarlet tint, but that might just be the reflection of her red dress or the glowing lights all over the room.
“It is if he’s married,” Lux singsongs under her breath.
“Or if he’s a tool like Ansley,” I add, unwrapping a toothpick and sticking it between my teeth.
Maeve’s cheeks darken even further. Definitely not the dress, then. “You don’t even know him.”
“Uh . . .” I chuckle, wondering what can of worms I’ve unintentionally opened. “I know enough.”
I expected her to fly off the handle at my insinuation that something happened between them, making us listen to five minutes of her raging about what a wanker he is and how they were only meeting up so she could pump him for information. I did not expect my insinuation to be . . . correct.
“You okay, Maeve?” Walker asks.
Maeve ignores her. “Preston is not who you think.”
“So he’s not married?” Lux asks.
Maeve turns her glare on Lux. “Not for much longer.”
Heath groans and leans back in his chair. “Don’t fall for that line, Maeve.”
She looks ready to snap. “It’s not a line.
His wife is atrocious. If you’d ever spent five minutes with the woman, you’d know the only topic of conversation in her wheelhouse is her distant connection to the queen.
” Her eyes scan each of us in turn, begging us to understand.
“Preston can’t take it anymore. He’s going to file for divorce. ”
I glance across the table at Pierce, who is studiously avoiding eye contact with everyone and twisting a poker chip in his hands. Lux shares a look with Slate, who has one very large tattooed hand clamped on her thigh. Walker catches my eye, and I can read the question there. What do we do?
I shrug. Trying to talk Maeve into or out of anything is as easy as getting a table at Rao’s when you’re not a regular.
“You really should break it off,” Walker finally tells her when it becomes obvious no one else is going to say anything.
Maeve’s eyebrows are nearly touching in the center of her forehead. “That’s not happening.”
“For fuck’s sake, Maeve,” I say. “The bloke’s married.”
“And I told you, he’s in the middle of a divorce,” she shoots back.
“Actually, you said he was going to file for divorce,” Lux says. “Which literally means nothing coming from a married man.”
“I guess you would know.” Maeve’s voice is brimming with hostility.
Lux colors and drops her gaze to the table. Beside her, Slate growls at Maeve.
“She’s right,” Walker says. “Married men are notorious for telling their mistresses they’re getting divorced. How do you not know this?”
“Preston is different.”
Mother of god. I never thought I’d see the day Maeve Wilson would fall for a load of crap.
“Did you look at the new budget yet?” Pierce’s voice surprises all of us. He’s been so quiet throughout this whole conversation, I almost forgot he was in the room.
“Oh, god,” Lux says under her breath. “Here we go.”
Maeve turns to him. “I glanced at it. It’s still three million over what we agreed.”
Pierce shifts in his chair. “There’s no way to do it for less.”
“Then maybe you should kiss the deal goodbye.”
Heath shoots me a droll look. One thing I will not miss on tour is Maeve and Pierce’s bickering over shit between their companies.
“Since we just established that your judgment is rubbish, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Pierce says.
Maeve stands up so fast her chair knocks over. Her face is so red, I’m not sure there’s blood left anywhere else in her body. “You bastard.” She grabs her purse from beneath the table and stalks out. Seconds later, the crash of the door slamming reverberates through the game room.
“Fuck,” Pierce mutters.
“Nice job, mate,” I tell him.
Walker stands up. “I’ll go see if she’s alright.”
Pierce motions for her to sit. “It was my fault. I’ll go.”
I sure hope he can get her to calm down, because if not, we might just have had our last poker night.