Chapter 10 Right in This Moment, This Order’s Tall #2
At some point, we get separated because Harmony is caught up in a conversation with another Lucky Stars contestant (from a more recent season, and the girl seems to have a lot of trauma she wants to commiserate about) while I’m stuck listening to an influencer who does woodworking and has made a hundred and forty-three guitars (no doubt he’d love me to perform with one to help get him some better name recognition).
Next thing I know, Harmony is off sipping rosé with Gregory Vellum, a screen writer and director, while three young women from a supplements startup (they were featured on Shark Tank last year, they’re from Oklahoma, and they love my music) give me lots of attention, and they also ask if I’m really dating Harmony, but when one of them giggles and touches my arm, I suspect it’s more than idle curiosity.
Harmony chooses that exact moment to glance over.
Wonderful timing.
I kindly excuse myself so I can make my way back to my “date,” in case anyone else is paying attention.
Greg Vellum greets me before I’ve even reached Harmony’s side. “This must be the newly infamous Riff Hurley!”
When I do get there, he gives me the stiffest of handshakes.
“That’s me,” I say.
“I was just telling Harmony I’d love her to write something for the soundtrack of one of my upcoming projects.”
He goes on to describe the project to me, some dark supernatural version of Cinderella with vampires, and of course I nod along, and then he spots someone else from the film industry and leaves us to ourselves.
Before either of us can say anything, we simultaneously receive a group text from Jared, one of the label’s PR managers assigned to oversee our specific scheme.
JARED: There’s a cabana reserved for you two on the west side of the venue. It would be good if you could be seen cozying up in there for a bit.
We give each other dead looks when we finish reading it.
Another message comes through.
JARED: Also, I have an important update. I’ll explain when you get there. Look for two bluetooth headsets on the table and connect your phones ASAP. Will call in five.
“Shall we?” I say without enthusiasm.
Since we’re completely on the opposite end of the venue, it will take us a few minutes to get over there. Again, we walk side by side, giving photographers and vloggers plenty of chances to catch us together.
I try to look like I’m having a good time, but it’s hard when Harmony is so closed off, like she’s been since after the night I met her.
What I wouldn’t give to catch a glimpse of the woman I spent an hour talking to—someone who had things to say about books, who opened up about feeling like her mom always thought she was too ambitious, who described coffee as “bean tea.”
A lot of attendees are now occupied listening to panel speakers, or exploring interactive kiosks that let them curate playlists and remixes, while others are trying to get good seats ahead of time for the performances that are scheduled to happen soon.
There aren’t as many eyes on us at the moment, so I feel like it’s a safe time to broach the subject of our feud.
“You know,” I say to Harmony, “we’ve never actually talked about what happened.”
She looks over at me like she’s surprised I’m talking to her. “Sure we have. We’ve had an ongoing conversation for almost a year. I’m pretty sure we both know where we stand on the matter.”
“Except you never let me explain.”
“What’s to explain? You’re going to be different depending on where you are and who you’re with. That’s not something I’m interested in.”
She acts like I’m a full-on con artist.
I sigh and adjust my Stetson from the crown.
“I wasn’t trying to hide who I am; I told you that.
Of all people, you should understand what it’s like when the label wants you to project a certain image.
Maybe not so much now that you’re a top earner and you have more control, but look at where we are right now, this whole charade …
because Glambam has leverage and they’re using it to get us to do what they want. ”
Harmony folds her arms. “You’re going to blame it on the label? On your last one, and now on Glambam? Like you don’t have any free will?”
“Not all of us were lucky enough to be on national television at nineteen. Some of us had to compromise to get where we are.”
“I have no doubt you compromised your values many times—and thank God you did,” she replies venomously, “or you wouldn’t have had the chance to be on the cover of Maverick, manspreading on the seat of your tractor with your shirt half open.”
She’s seen that?
It’s been a long time since that photo shoot.
She must have gone looking for info about me online once she found out who I was.
Looking for lyrical fuel, most likely. If she really thinks I’m that guy, I can see why she wouldn’t want much to do with me—a booze-and-babes man’s man who doesn’t care about anyone but himself.
I narrow my eyes. “If you think that’s what I wanted, we’re having completely different conversations.”
“Are we? You eat, sleep, and breathe this job, Riff. That’s one thing I definitely understand, because my job is the same way. It’s not possible for you to do this day in and day out, and not mean it.”
The way she calls me “Riff” feels like nails on a chalkboard. Not like when she said “Griffin” in the dark, on that bench, with her fists clenched around my lapels.
“Why not?” I argue. “People all across the world do jobs they hate their whole lives. Plenty of them are even good at those jobs, and work hard at them because they have to.”
“But being a famous musician isn’t exactly a plight. Most of those jobs don’t involve women fawning all over you all the time.”
I scoff-laugh. “Okay, so that’s what it is? You’re intimidated by the ‘competition’?”
Harmony stops in the middle of the walkway, which prompts me to stop too. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re in a position to get what you want from most women, particularly when you say the right thing and present yourself the right way … and I think you’re prone to taking advantage of it.”
I lean in close to her suddenly—making her flinch—and lower my voice. “I’m pretty sure that night at the release party it was you who got what you wanted from me.”
Her face pales at that. She purses her lips. I swear she’s trembling. “You were about to get something too,” she breathes, strained. “And don’t tell me you don’t think about that when you … when you …”
My mouth goes crooked in a half grin. “When I what?”
“Never mind.” She huffs.
“Do you think about it?”
She turns to leave but I catch her by the hand. Frowning, she tugs in the opposite direction, but we both look up, suddenly remembering we’re not completely alone. The few people still lingering in the surrounding lounge areas seem vaguely aware of us now that we’ve paused here.
Harmony forces herself to relax. The war within her plays out on her face, but she lets me take her soft hand fully into mine as I smile over my shoulder at onlookers.
She lets me take her to the cabana, where a free-standing sign displays both our names.
The ends of the tied-back curtains billow gently.
Under the canopy, there’s a sofa with half a dozen pillows, along with a small table holding a tray of canapés, two empty glasses, a bottle of wine on ice, and the bluetooth earpieces Jared mentioned.
Pulling her hand out of mine, Harmony takes a seat and brushes stray hairs off her face before she picks up her earpiece and pairs it. I sit down and pair my phone and earpiece as well.
A minute later, Jared calls me, says he’s adding Harmony. Her phone buzzes, she answers.
Jared’s voice comes through. “Set your phones on the table. If you haven’t already, make sure your earpiece is in the ear facing away from the cabana’s front opening; that way, anyone watching you won’t be able to see it.”
We obey.
“Great,” Jared goes on. “Now, this is very important. Thirty minutes ago, I ran into Carlton Park—you know, the guy who does ‘infotainment in under a minute’ and it’s always celebrity gossip he finds out at insider events?”
“Sure.” I can vaguely picture the scruffy dude’s head green-screened in front of celebrity photos while he talks about them. A few months ago he did a piece on me and Harmony, summarizing our feud up to that point; it got twelve million views.
“Well, it just so happens that he has a cabana right near yours and I’m watching him finish up a convo with the girls from Game, Set, Match about fifty feet away.
I just overheard him say he’s headed back for a break before Party Riot goes onstage.
Which means you two need to get ready to put on a show. ”
“Wait, what?” Harmony says. “What do you mean?”
“I mean Carlton is going to go down the pathway with a clear view straight into your cabana—any minute now—and he needs to see you acting like you’re more than friends.
Not everyone bothers to read tabloid articles, but a lot of them will scarf down those one-minute videos like Pringles. Please don’t waste this opportunity.”
“What exactly do you want us to do?” I ask in a sharp whisper as a man who looks like Carlton appears in the distance.
Jared sighs. “First order of business: scoot closer to each other.”
“Are you watching us right now too?” Harmony asks.
“Obviously. Now get closer, I’m not kidding. No space between you.”
I slide up right next to Harmony so that our bodies are touching. “Sorry,” I mutter.
“Arm around her,” Jared tells me.
“Permission to put my arm around you?” I ask Harmony.
“Yes, fine,” she replies.
I drape my arm along the back of the sofa behind her.
“Now,” Jared says, “if you could kind of stroke her thigh with your other hand …”
“No way,” Harmony tells him. She looks outside, though, and Carlton is nearing us. She gives me a warning glare. “Alright—briefly.”
I rest my hand on the saffron-yellow fabric of her dress that covers her thigh.
“Okay, now lean in,” Jared instructs.
Tentatively, I lean in.
Harmony’s eyes are dark and menacing. Her lips are tight. Her breathing is shallow.
Come to think of it, my breathing is shallow too. My pulse kicks up.
“Put a hand on his chest, Harm,” says Jared.
Her fingertips graze the buttons of my shirt.
Carlton approaches the cabana zone. He keeps walking, but he slows his pace and peers in, gaze lingering before he smirks and moves on.
“Don’t move a muscle,” Jared whispers, even though it’s not like anyone but us can hear him.
“Why not?” Harmony whispers back. “He’s gone. He’s not looking anymore.”
“Right,” Jared agrees, “but I also told one of the event videographers you two would be taking some ‘alone time’ in this area. I’ve got eyes on her right now; she’s panning her camera across the cabanas as we speak. Hypothetically if you guys wanted to do a little more ...”
Harmony grasps my shirt. I move my hand to her waist and get a little closer, like we’re about to kiss, but of course I don’t kiss her. “That’s as good as you’re going to get, Jared.”
“Fair enough,” he says.
I hate that Jared is in on this, because even though we’re just pretending, it feels way too personal to have a third party involved. Although, who knows how many others are going to see stills of this, so I guess it’s not private regardless.
“Alright, I think we got what we were aiming for. I’m going to hang up now. But don’t just pull away from each other all sudden like, please. Act natural.”
The line goes dead.
Slowly, I draw back a bit, but I don’t take my hands off of Harmony just yet, and she doesn’t take hers off of me either.
I swallow hard, then clear my throat.
Now she pulls back and finally we separate ourselves completely.
I take off my hat and drag my fingers through my hair. “This is harder than I thought.”
“Yeah …” she says.
Some part of me thought Harmony might see reason if I just took a second to try and talk to her, but it seems like she wants to see me the way she does. The same way everyone else wants to see me
“We should call it a day,” I say. “We did what we came to do. A lot of people saw us. We don’t need to sit through the shows too.
There will be plenty of opportunities to make another public appearance in the upcoming weeks.
” Although I think about playing this game in the future, again and again, and a dull ache forms around my temples.
Harmony nods.
I call our driver to meet us out front.
We get in the limo and ride in silence back to Glambam headquarters, where our own vehicles await us.
I drive home listening to Bon Iver and thinking about what Harmony said: “No doubt you’ve compromised your values many times.”
Lying is against my values, but I’ve been doing it for three-plus years now.
I am—or have some desire to be—a cowboy. Lie.
I am passionate about country music. Lie.
I am dating Harmony Sonora. Lie.
And the latest one: I don’t have feelings for Harmony at all.
Lie.