29
29
“Oh my god, Win’s calling.”
The terminal at Miami International Airport is as busy as ever, a crowd of paparazzi and patiently waiting fans hanging around Arrivals hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the many celebs flying in for the boat show or for Riley’s big event. Maya, Val, and I were escorted by security and had no time to say hi to the fans screaming our names before we were shown to our waiting vehicle. Now we’re en route to our hotel, the colorful painted murals in Wynwood whizzing past on both sides of the highway through the dark-tinted windows of our ride.
“See! I freaking told you he didn’t forget about you,” Maya says beside me, throwing her hands up in the air. “Answer it, quick!”
“Win,” I say, bringing the phone to my ear and using my other hand to shield my face from Maya and Val, who both react with laughter to my breathless-sounding voice. “Hey, how are you?”
“I’m good.” His voice sounds thick and velvety through the phone, superchill, never fazed by much. “I just arrived in Miami, actually. I’m on the jet right now, taxiing down the runway.”
Of course he got a private jet. I try not to be disappointed by the lack of an invite to join him. We flew here first-class, but that’s not the point. Since Coachella I’ve been going back and forth in my head wondering if I read too far into things with Win, thinking he’s probably got a line of other women he treats the same way. I’m his friend, nothing more. But, hey, at least he’s calling me.
“Oh, we just left the airport,” I say brightly, ignoring the girls’ teasing to stare out the window. The blue waters of Biscayne Bay shine in the distance. “Headed to our hotel right now.”
“You’re staying in South Beach?” Win asks.
“Of course.”
“I’ll be close by.”
“Did you end up buying the house on the water you showed me?”
“You know it.” I hear the smile in his voice. “So, how are you?”
My heart somersaults. I’m suddenly confronted with the realization that for all the time I’ve spent wondering when Win will get in touch with me, I haven’t gotten in touch with him either. Guilt creeps in as I say, “I’m great, thanks. Things have just been crazy these past few weeks, you know, with all the rehearsals and prep.”
“I’ll bet. I hope you’ve at least had time to be with the girls in all the madness.”
I glance to my left. “I’m with them now, looking forward to lying by the pool later. Maybe we’ll hit up the spa.”
“Do you want to grab lunch together before then?” Win clears his throat. “I know some great places to eat.”
My shoulders sink. “Ugh, I’m sorry, Win, I can’t.”
“You have other plans?”
“Yeah.”
He chuckles. “You don’t sound too thrilled about that. Is it work related?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
I can almost hear his shrug as he says easily, “All right.”
I know he won’t press me for more information—that’s just not like Win at all—and so I elaborate before he can move on. “I’m actually meeting Riley Vega for brunch.”
There’s a pause as this information sinks in. Then he says simply, “Ah.”
“Not my idea. She called me out of the blue last week apologizing, saying she wants us to be friends again, that sort of thing. Maybe I’m being na?ve about it, but it was easier to say yes than to keep this awkward energy going on, you know?”
“I get it. I hope it goes well.”
“Thanks. Maybe we could meet for lunch tomorrow instead?”
“I’d love to, but tomorrow’s my yacht party. Actually, I was hoping you would join me for that. Bring the girls too—anyone who’s a friend of yours is welcome. I’ll have some of my business partners with me for a cruise around the bay, there’ll be drinks and food, good music. I’d love to have you there.”
I feel the butterflies dance inside me. It wouldn’t be a trip to Miami without a boat party, after all. Answering for all three of us, I grin excitedly. “We’ll definitely be there. Thanks, Win.”
“I’ll text you the info later.”
“Perfect.”
“If I get a chance tomorrow morning, maybe I’ll come meet you at your hotel for breakfast instead.”
“Oh,” I say, pleasantly surprised. “That’d be really nice.” I already know it’s unlikely to happen, but just the thought plants a seed of excitement for tomorrow to hurry up and get here already—especially as I think of my dreaded brunch date later this morning.
“Okay, I’m about to get off the jet now, Princess, so I have to go. Enjoy this beautiful day. I’ll check you tomorrow. Oh, and by the way, I saw you posted a new song. Brilliant. Making moves, that’s the Princess I know. I can’t wait to listen to it.”
I can’t help but smile, glad someone close to me acknowledged it. Of course, I was beyond grateful it did so well, so many people online loved it, but Win knows me, the real me, so it hits different. “See you tomorrow, Win. Have a great day too.”
“Always a great day when I’m talking to you,” he says, and then before I can even think of a reply, the call clicks off and I’m left staring at my reflection as the busy streets of Miami fly by outside the car window.
Meeting up with Riley after so long is weird, to say the least. For starters, the last time we saw each other, we were not accompanied by plainclothes security. Some things haven’t changed, though. She still orders her favorite food: waffles and berries with extra syrup and a dusting of sugar. Midbite she says, “What’s the point in working this hard if I can’t enjoy a nice meal guilt-free once in a while?” and I totally agree. Like I always say, everything in moderation.
We spend most of brunch talking as if we have an audience, extra friendly and polite, making a real effort to listen to each other discuss the surface-level details: a change in manager for Riley, the collabs we’re working on right now, the success of my latest song—“Oh my god, it was so authentic, Princess, I literally almost cried listening to it. That’s when I knew I’d done the right thing reaching out to you”—and avoiding the topic of John with expert precision. By the time we’ve paid our bill and left the restaurant, it still feels like we haven’t really tapped into the real reason we’re here. I don’t want to be the one to bring it up.
“You know, I haven’t been back to Miami in so long. Life’s too busy nowadays. I miss the days when we’d book a flight and come hang out here for a couple of nights—don’t you?” Riley says, linking arms with me and glancing behind us to check security are still with us.
“It was always the best time,” I agree, leaving out that my trips away with Maya, Val, and Jessie have always been much more fun. I wonder what they’re all doing right now. I wish Jessie could be here with us, but school got in the way as usual.
“You wanna go shopping?”
I look out over the Bal Harbour shops, Saks at one end and then a whole bunch of luxury stores all around us, the center of the mall filled with little water features and tropical plants, and the open top giving a view of the perfectly blue, cloudless sky. “Sure, why not?” I say with a smile, though Riley’s already dragging me with her into the Gucci store, making a beeline for a leather jacket just inside the door.
We spend nearly half an hour inside trying on clothes and matching them with purses, and the longer we take, the more I start to wonder when Riley should be heading back. We’re in Miami for her event after all—surely she must have press or meetings to get to? Even I need to head out this afternoon for more rehearsals before I can relax at the hotel with the girls.
All I know is, if I was hosting the show, I’d want to be front and center of the action, not hanging around shopping malls trying to rekindle friendships that expired long ago.
As we’re leaving the Gucci store with our new stuff, a couple of shouts sound from across the other side of the mall, and the next thing I see is the flash of a camera. My shoulders immediately tense up. “Paps,” I say low, moving to rush away from them with Riley as a security guy steps in to keep us safe, but Riley’s less quick to react.
“Let’s just humor them for a sec,” she says, as if it’s no bother. “If we give them what they want, maybe they’ll leave us alone.”
Riley knows how this works; if anything, humoring them will only open up the floodgates for everyone else around us to start requesting photos, too, paparazzi or passersby. Before I can speak, she links arms with me and starts giggling maniacally at nothing, leaning in close as if I’ve just cracked an inside joke. She pulls me along with her directly past the small crowd of paparazzi, heading toward the stores on the other side of the mall.
“Hey, why don’t we go do something cute?” she suggests, and I try my hardest to look natural, unbothered, as the cameras flash in our faces over and over, guys running around us from all angles, hoping to get the best shot.
“Such as?” I ask, trying a smile.
“Like—” She pauses as if thinking of an idea, but with the way her eyes land on the Tiffany store ahead, it seems she already thought of this well ahead of time. “Why don’t we go get matching bracelets to commemorate today, the day we realized friendship was thicker than competition all along?”
I let out a disbelieving burst of laughter—I can’t help it. “Friendship bracelets?” I ask, bemused.
“Yeah, my treat.” Riley grins wide, acting as if there’s nothing weird at all about this. “Come on,” she says, tugging on my arm and leading me into the store, where a greeter’s already holding the door open for us, eyes glittering.
“Good morning, ladies. Are either of you looking for anything special today?”
It seems bizarre, but Riley insists on buying the bracelet for me even though I offer a million times to pay for myself and tell her it really isn’t necessary.
The glamorous woman behind the counter has bouffant blonde hair and smells strongly of Chanel No. 5. “Would you like these gift wrapped or boxed today, ladies?” she asks us with a smile.
“Oh, no thanks,” Riley replies. “We’ll wear them now.” She glances out the window at the crowd of paparazzi waiting on the opposite side of the mall, lenses no doubt zoomed in to get the perfect shot, and then I notice she angles herself as if she’s posing for them.
She’s really enjoying this, isn’t she?
“Literally so happy we’re doing this,” she says to me privately a second later, her tone genuine and the look on her face surprisingly sincere.
“Me too,” I say automatically. The store assistant clasps the bracelet around my wrist and I turn it over to admire it. “They’re stunning.”
“They really suit us,” Riley agrees.
A few minutes later we leave the store sporting the gold chain bracelets with matching little diamonds, mine on my left wrist and Riley’s on her right.
“Hey, I have to leave soon since it’s getting late, but let’s make a pact to never let a guy come between us again,” Riley says as we approach the valet. She comes to a stop right beside a cascading fake waterfall and reaches her arms out for a hug.
“I’d like that,” I say. “No more drama, no more lies.”
“You said it, girl.”
I wait for a second, hoping she’ll offer up something more, a question burning on my tongue. When she doesn’t speak, I have to let it out. “But, Riley, can I just be clear on something? Are you with John now? Is that what all this is about, smoothing things out between us so there’s no bad energy?”
She studies me for a second as if she’s trying to figure out the right thing to say. I deliberately try to keep my expression neutral, wanting to know the actual truth, not just what she wants me to hear. I know Coachella wasn’t the last time they were seen together—if the photos popping up via their social media and the paparazzi weren’t a big enough clue, Maya and Val confirmed sightings of the two of them at parties together. It doesn’t really matter to me that much . . . I think. But it would be nice to know where I stand, if this friendship is something Riley’s set on pursuing.
“It’s kind of unofficial,” is what she chooses to say eventually, biting the inside of her cheek, lips pursed. “I don’t know that I want a relationship to tie me down right now. It’s a big time in my life.”
But you’re happy to hook up with him even when someone else is in a relationship with him? I can’t stop the thought. “Right.”
“Look, it’s complicated,” she says quickly. “And that’s why I don’t want it to come between us. We got these bracelets as a reminder none of this boy shit matters as much as supporting each other, right? I don’t want to go back to that weird place of competing against each other again. This industry’s difficult enough to deal with as it is.”
I nod but don’t say anything. It’s like she’s blacked out the memory of how we got into this weird competitive place to begin with. Because of her shady behavior.
When her phone buzzes, she lifts the corner of her mouth apologetically. “I gotta go, Princess.”
“Of course. You do your thing.”
We hug, and Riley squeezes me tight for a few seconds longer than I’m comfortable with as the white flashes of cameras reflect off the wall of water beside us. And then, with a quick “Okay, I’ll see you later. Good luck with the show and call me whenever. Thanks for today!” she struts off to her car without so much as a glance back. My gut pings, hoping for once that this feeling of dread is all in my imagination.