9. Evelyn
9
Evelyn
A hangover hammers through my skull, scattering my consciousness. As I collect the pieces of myself, fragments of last night dip in and out. All of it plays back like a grainy silent movie with subtitles to commentate on the comedy of errors that transpired.
The new contract with Reverb pushing for a public reveal.
See, look at this idiot girl dealing with the consequences of her own actions!
Waiting for Garrett to say something while I felt like I was going to implode.
Now, over here, kids! This is why you don’t insist on being added to someone’s car’s Bluetooth. At least it wasn’t porn!
There’s a part of me that wishes it was porn because it would have been just as embarrassing for Garrett as it would have been for me with fewer lasting effects.
He said I could send him an NDA, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. First, that would mean admitting to Vincent that I slipped up, and I really don’t want to do that right now with so much up in the air. I do trust Garrett. He might think I’m Drew’s annoying little sister, but he wouldn’t tell anyone my secret.
Eventually, I start my day (read: drag a blanket downstairs and cocoon myself in a hangover nest while wearing sunglasses inside all while cursing my past self.)
I crook my arm out into an invisible embrace and send a picture to Avery. Over the last few months in New York we’ve spent endless mornings in her bed with its duvet that could make a cloud envious. Sometimes it feels like I’m trying to use her to replace Quinn, but that’s not fair to either of them. That would be asking too much of Avery and her busy schedule. Worse, it would also mean Quinn is replaceable.
Evelyn
If you need me, I’ll be here rotting.
Moments later a video call comes through. Avery is getting her makeup done, face brightly lit. A brush dips into view, blending out the blush on the apples of her cheeks.
“Two days there and you’ve already been driven to drinking,” she says. The makeup artist lifts the brush as she talks. “Get out while you can.”
“Actually, this is how I’m getting in with the locals. They’ve skipped trying to brainwash me and have started to accept me as their own,” I say.
“Are any of the brain washing locals hot?” Right to the important stuff, then.
My mind inserts a picture of Garrett. Garrett, who didn’t bat an eye last night and treated me better than I could have hoped for after dropping the weight of my world into his lap. “Yeah.”
I’m uncertain what Avery knows about Garrett’s background. She was always around the band, but so was I. Based on the fact that when I told her about coming to Hartsfall she didn’t mention his connection to it, it doesn’t feel right to share it if he’s gone to such lengths to keep it a secret.
“Details,” she urges.
“Reddish orange hair, scars, a bit of a player.” My voice lowers.
“Tell me more.”
“A bit touchy, but as we both know I like that in a relationship,” I say, drawing out the moment. “Oh, and he meows on occasion, but I think it’s part of his charm.”
I delight as my words register and Avery’s face falls. “I really hope you’re talking about a cat.”
“And if I wasn’t?”
“Then I’d assume that you might have stumbled into a cult and not a cute small town.” She cocks her head. “Which would actually be more interesting.”
“Okay, well, now I know to bump up alleged culty small towns over cute ones if we ever take a vacation.” The blanket rustles around me as I burrow in deeper.
“You make me feel so seen. Well, except for the fact that you’re wearing mirrored sunglasses, and I have no idea if you’re looking at me or not,” she says. “One second.” She holds up her finger as she mutters something to her makeup artist. “Sorry about that, I have like five more minutes before the photoshoot for new promo shots with the he-devil.” The names she gives Wes have always been a fairly good indicator how she’s feeling about him. The more intricate and unique the more likely she’s channeled her rage into the identifier. All things considered, he-devil is mild. “The shirt he’s wearing shouldn’t legally be allowed to be called a garment.”
“Cropped?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes and says, “It’s like he gave a five-year-old scissors and told them to go wild.”
“Ahh, as vain as ever, and can’t wait to show off his abs to millions of innocent magazine consumers?”
“Yes, you have a way with words.”
“I don’t and that’s a major problem,” I groan out.
“So, a tiny naked cupid didn’t shoot you in the ass with a comically large arrow then send you writing through the night?”
“Excuse you,” I gasp in mock offense. “Cupid wears a very tasteful diaper, or a sash, or something.”
“Not in the statues I’ve seen.”
“Well, my modern cupid is aware of indecent exposure laws, and no, I don’t have an arrow wound in my ass. My piano needs to be tuned, which I should have expected due to its little road trip, so I’ll have to haul someone out here,” I say, which reminds me of the more immediate hurdles I need to tackle.
A loud thumping comes and Avery’s eyes flick to something off screen. “I’ve got to go. Good luck.”
“I need it,” I say, but I doubt she hears me because she hangs up mid-sentence.
I open the house rental app and message Alina, as she’s the only other person I know with a piano nearby.
Evelyn
Do you have a referral for a piano tuner?
Alina
I’ll send him over.
My stomach drops. There’s one option who he is. But based on the foggy memories of last night, he should be long gone.