Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
Sebastian
Kitty Cat Karaoke is depressingly empty tonight, but I don’t let that stop me from sulking in my favorite booth at the back. My phone buzzes in my pocket, not for the first time. I ignore it. I dread what I’m going to find there.
Looking out around the club, I think I can’t possibly reach a lower level of misery. It’s probably past time I go home and hang out with Schrodinger, because an attitudinal cat is way better company than this.
I’m so fucking miserable, though, that it seems unfair to foist my company on Schrodinger. Poor beast.
Tonight’s performers aren’t all that bad, but the energy is so low in the club, it doesn’t matter what song these people choose or how well they sing it—nobody here is going to care. It’s as if a heavy mantle of malaise has dropped over everything and everyone.
Or maybe that’s just me.
I don’t like how Ella and I left things yesterday morning.
I need to trust her, and when I’m unsure, we need to actually talk.
I can understand her wanting space after that conversation, but I’m done with space.
I just want to hold my little girl, sing lullabies to her, get to know her better.
I want to see her smile. I want to watch her brown eyes lighten with humor and darken with heat.
“Yes, I’m here to meet Bastian,” a familiar female voice says from the doorway, which is out of my line of sight.
I don’t need to see her to know who it is, though. I’d recognize that breathy, manipulative tone anywhere. It’s Trina.
My lungs seize and I straighten up. Shit. I wonder if I should sneak out the back.
Then I realize I sound like a fucking coward. Yeah, she used to have power over me. But she doesn’t anymore.
She comes around the dividing wall that separates this part of the lounge from the entryway.
Her blond hair is pulled back with a purple headband that matches her lipstick.
Her pantsuit is rumpled. She looks tired, with dark bruises beneath her green eyes.
I wonder if she just flew into town, or what.
As she approaches my booth, I’m already shaking my head.
“No,” I say. “Just turn right around. My mind’s made up.”
“Bastian.” She gives me a saccharine smile, like she thinks I’m some misbehaving kid or something, and she’s indulging me. “Let me sit down, let’s talk this out like adults.”
“No. I have nothing to say to you. You’re fired, it’s over.”
“I don’t think you want to do that. I’m here to make arrangements with Ella. It would be a shame if you get left behind.”
I stare at her, incredulous. Like Ella would fall for her lies, after everything that’s happened?
Unless Trina was never lying about my assault. Maybe Ella has figured it out already—maybe Ella knows, now, that I’m a monstrous, abusive sack of shit. In which case, Trina’s been telling the truth all along.
It doesn’t matter what Ella has discovered, I decide—at least not as far as Trina’s and my working relationship goes. The trust is gone. I’m tired of Trina blackmailing me.
That’s what this has been, for the past seven years. Blackmail. I don’t know why I never really saw it this way before, but now I do, it’s hard to imagine anything innocent about the way Trina’s been nudging me to do her bidding.
And all this time, I thought I was the sick fuck.
“Get out of my life,” I say. “I never want to see you again. I don’t want to see you around Ella. You’re poison.”
“I’ll tell everyone what you did,” she says.
Those were the words I’ve spent the past seven years dreading, but they no longer have power over me.
Leaning back in my booth seat, I fold my hands in front of me. “Go ahead. I have a statement prepared.”
Trina’s mouth opens and closes. She didn’t expect me to agree so quickly. She thinks I’ve been hiding from this all along. Well, I have. But I’m done hiding. I’m giving Ella a chance to do what she thinks is best, but once Ella finds out what happened, I’m ready to come forward.
“Get out,” I say. “If you approach me again, I’ll file a restraining order. I’m documenting everything.”
“You’re going to be so fucking sorry,” she hisses before turning on her heel and leaving the club.
My body is rigid with unspent rage. It’s extremely difficult to calm the fuck down, but I take deep breaths until I feel like a normal person again.
Then, I fish my phone from my pocket. I’ve been ignoring it all evening, but I’m starting to feel like an asshole.
Well, not starting to feel like an asshole.
I’ve felt like one since I let Ella walk out of my apartment yesterday.
I should have grabbed her, talked to her, and then thrown her over my lap for the kind of spanking that wouldn’t be punishment, only pleasure.
I tap the screen and the usual barrage of notifications pops up. Nestled among them, though, is a text from Ella. Trina lied. You never hurt anyone .
My breath catches in my throat and it feels, for a moment, like my heart stops beating. Fuck. Fuck . Can this be real?
I text her back. I need to talk to you. Where are you?
There’s no response. She must be at work. I call her anyway, hoping she’ll pick up, but nothing.
If she’s at Bartleby’s, she’s just down the street. It’s only seven, though, and the earliest she’ll get off is eight. Sometimes her shift doesn’t end until nine. I don’t want to distract her, so I keep my seat and order another iced tea. Drumming my hands on the tabletop, I wait.
I always dreamed I’d be someone’s knight in shining armor.
But I think my little princess might have saved me.
Ella
At Bartleby’s, Natasha grabs my hand and drags me behind the soda machine. Her eyes are twinkling with mischief. “Did you hear about Nicholas?”
“No,” I say slowly. “What happened?”
“He called in sick last night, and Kevin had to scramble to find someone to take his shift, and then Nicholas showed up here at the pub with a huge crowd of friends, drunk off his ass. Not sick.”
“Damn,” I say. “Did Kevin fire him?”
“No.” Natasha pouts in the direction of where Kevin’s mixing drinks. “He’s giving him another chance. But the person Kevin found to work is Kevin’s nephew, and he’s chill AF. Now we all want the nephew to work here instead of Nicholas. He’s worth, like, two Nicholases.”
“Maybe that’ll happen,” I say, “if Nicholas screws up again. The nerve of him, telling me I sucked because I had to call in once.”
“Well, maybe his mistake will knock him off his pedestal,” she says.
I have to be honest—this low-key drama with Nicholas is refreshing after all of the intense revelations surrounding Sebastian and his past. Natasha and I chat for a little while, until I notice a couple at one of my tables looking around because they need something.
Only an hour left of work, and then I can ask Kingston to help me track down Sebastian. I texted Sebastian earlier, but last I checked, he hasn’t texted back. Maybe he’s still processing the news. It’s got to be a lot to take in.
The last hour passes, and all I have left to do is wait for one last table to pay their bill. While I wait, I sneak into the back room to check my phone. Sebastian still hasn’t gotten back to me, so I text him and Kingston together. We need to talk. I’m nearly finished at the pub .
Kingston’s response is immediate. Wait for Garth, I’m sending him now .
Okay, Daddy , I write back with a winking emoji.
The table pays and I grab my things, say goodbye to Natasha and Kevin, and head outside.
Traffic moves swiftly along the street—a hectic Friday night crush of cars, all of them speeding along to get their occupants from one engagement to another.
Dinners. Movies. Clubs. Parties. I hang back along the edge of the building to wait for Garth.
“Ella!” a woman shouts.
I turn around to see Trina approaching from down the street. Rage overtakes me, so powerful, I’m shaking. She lied to Sebastian for seven fucking years, and she has the nerve to try to get me to work with her? Fuck her.
I flip her off and start walking away. Garth will be here any second, so I won’t go far.
“Ella!” she calls, gesturing me toward her.
Toward the alley where I was attacked. I shove down my fear.
This might be the last chance I have to talk to Trina and get her to admit the truth.
An idea comes to me. Maybe it’s stupid, maybe it won’t work, but I have to try.
Pretending that I’m just preoccupied with texting someone, I pull up my recording app and hit start .
“I don’t want to talk to you,” I say, moving toward her.
“What do you mean?” She gives an awkward laugh. “I thought you wanted to take me on as your agent?”
“Yeah, not anymore,” I say.
She grabs my arm. I look down at her hand wrapped around the light blue fabric of my coat.
“Uh, sorry,” she says, removing her hand. “But seriously, what the fuck? I thought you wanted to work together. What changed?”
“You’ve been lying to Sebastian all this time. You’ve been trying to ruin his life. If that’s what an agent does, well, I’d rather not have one. And I sure as hell don’t want to be around you .”
“What do you mean, I’ve been lying to Sebastian? I’ve given my best years to Bastian Crown, and he’s an ungrateful piece of shit if he says otherwise.”
“I know that he never harmed Alyssa.”
“What are you talking about? He did too. I witnessed it.”
Ew, gross. “First of all, if you witnessed it, why didn’t you stop it? And second, I spoke to Alyssa, and she says there was no assault—everything was consensual.”
The truth of what I’ve said seems to hit home, because she takes a step back and her green eyes widen in shock. “You—you talked to her?”
“Yes. She said there was no rape, no assault. And you gave her money so she wouldn’t ever talk about it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you drugged him, from the way things sound. He passed out after one or two drinks? Doubtful.”
She snorts. “This makes no sense.”
“It makes lots of sense. By doing this, you could control Sebastian. It didn’t work out so well, though, did it? Because he decided to stop performing and get help for his likely nonexistent alcoholism.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” she says. “He was already about to leave me. The timing was perfect. A little rohypnol in his drink, one of his many random hook-ups. Perfect situation. What else could I do? I’m the best agent for him.”
“You could have done literally anything else.” My stomach is in knots. Her behavior makes me feel sick. It’s bad enough women are attacked all the time, and people don’t believe them when they come forward. Trina has weaponized the whole thing, and it’s absolutely fucking disgusting.
“What’s done is done,” she says. “I’m going to move forward with my life, and so should you.”
“You need to make reparations for ruining seven years of Sebastian’s life.”
“I need to do no such thing,” she says.
“And, people need to know what a lying snake you are,” I say.
“I’m not telling them, and nobody will ever believe you.” She takes an aggressive step toward me.
“Oh, they’ll believe me.” I hold up my phone and back out of the alley, out of her reach.
Rick set up the video surveillance, but I doubt anyone monitors the footage in real time.
“I just recorded everything you said. Now leave us alone. Me, Sebastian, and Alyssa. Anyone else who doesn’t want to hear from you. ”
Her face crumples. “If I stay away, you won’t share that with anyone, right?”
“Unbelievable. That’s really gutsy of you to hope for some kind of leniency after the shit you pulled. But I’m going to leave it up to Sebastian and Alyssa. They were the ones who were harmed by this. Sebastian especially.”
Her cheeks have spots of color and her eyes blaze with fury. “You’re going to be sorry.”
I doubt it.
“You are such a bitch,” she says. “And I’ll make sure that you never find an agent or sign a record deal.”
I shrug. I don’t care if she likes me. I don’t care if she thinks she has some kind of weird professional hold over me. Finally, with the truth, Sebastian will be free.
And I’m not wasting another second in this woman’s presence, so I turn around and walk toward the street. Garth should be here any second, and if I’m lucky, Kingston will be in the back seat. I stop at the curb to wait. The street is still crowded with cars rushing past.
Before I forget, I send the recording of Trina’s and my conversation to both Sebastian and Kingston. If something happens to my phone, I don’t want to lose the only copy.
“Ella, look out!” a man shouts from behind me. It sounds like Sebastian.
I turn around just in time to see Trina lunge at me, her arms outstretched, her eyes full of rage.
She pushes me. My heel catches on the corner of a bench. I start to fall backward, my arms flailing, searching for something to grab.
But there’s nothing.
Nothing but approaching vehicles.