Chapter Thirteen
“Spill a secret about a bandmate, huh? Okay, how about this: when US was first formed, Phillip tried to get out of things by saying he didn’t know what we were talking about ‘because he’s British.
’ Like, ‘Can you pay for this? We don’t use dollars in Britain.
’ Or, ‘What’s this Wite-Out you want me to fetch you?
We don’t have that in Britain.’ We only realized he’d been screwing with us when we asked him to wash the forks off in the tour bus and Phillip looked us right in the eyes and went, ‘What are those? We don’t have them where I’m from. ’”
—Jake Moody for Endless Entertainment
Phillip Maan, the official pretty boy of the Usual Suspects, looked exactly like he did on his posters, even over a non-airbrushed, across-the-pond phone connection at eight in the morning UK time.
His button-down shirt? Expensive-looking and free of a single wrinkle. His blond hair? Flawlessly styled and so shiny I felt the urge to ask him what shampoo he used, although I had a feeling he might’ve just been born like that.
His laptop was positioned perfectly so he sat exactly in the center of the screen, with the lamps hitting him just right, not daring to grace his face with anything less than immaculate lighting.
Even his chair was fancy—Phillip Maan could not simply sit in a regular chair.
No, only a high wingback chair covered in dark-blue velvet would do.
“Good morning, Mr. Moody,” Phillip greeted, all posh and polished.
I blinked, taken aback by the formal greeting.
It made him sound old and businesslike, not like a teen boy band member who I knew for a fact jumped around onstage singing and shouting and wildly waving his arms under showers of confetti.
“I must say I was quite surprised you booked an official meeting. It might interest you to know, I’m actually not in London right now, I’m in Paris to—”
Phillip’s blue eyes landed on me, making him stop mid-sentence.
“Well, hello there,” he said in a different tone altogether.
Who, me?
“Hi,” I replied, too stunned to say anything else. Those articles weren’t lying. Having this guy’s full attention was kind of disarming.
“I’m Phillip,” he said, dropping his businessman act altogether and dialing Flirt Mode up to one hundred. “Who might you be? Jake didn’t tell me he was bringing such a lovely friend to the meeting.”
My eyebrows shot up. Jake grumbled something unintelligible I couldn’t quite catch, but it didn’t seem very complimentary.
“I’m Lucy,” I said, and then remembered I was supposed to be on this call to ask for a favor and not just stare at him. Figuring flattery would work on someone with his ego, I added, “I’m a big fan.”
Phillip grinned like the Cheshire cat.
“Calm down,” Jake inserted. “She’s not that big of a fan.”
“Never mind him, darling,” Phillip said, never taking his eyes off me despite Jake’s pesky interruption. “He’s the band’s bad boy. Being snarky and mysterious is just his contractual obligation.”
“Never mind him, darling,” Jake mimicked, jerking his thumb toward the screen as he spoke to me. “He can’t turn the flirting off.”
“Even in the middle of a business meeting?” I asked coyly.
Jake did a double take at my tone. But if flirting was how Phillip communicated, then I’d speak his language and give him my café pitch.
Besides, it felt like a good distraction from whatever I’d been about to let happen with Jake before the phone rang.
“Seems a little unprofessional,” I pouted. “We had to book this, you know.”
“What are you doing with your face?” Jake questioned beneath his breath. “Are—are you flirting back? Oh my God. Do not flirt back.”
Phillip flashed me a smile, looking like he was about to say something charming in reply.
But before he could, Jake decided to interrupt him with, “Did you get a chance to look at the ‘business proposal’ I sent over?”
Phillip took a second to refocus. “Yeah, I did. It’s a good cause and great promo for the band, but I must say I’m a bit surprised by it, mate, considering we’re supposed to be on a break from each other.” He narrowed his eyes at Jake. “A break you suggested.”
Jake suggested the band stop seeing each other? He conveniently never mentioned that little detail. He made it sound like it was something all four of them wanted. I spun toward him, shocked.
Only not that shocked, I guess. Because Jake deciding to walk away from his friends for a while and being the driving force behind the silence? Yeah, that tracked.
“Hey,” Jake protested, putting his hands up defensively as Phillip and I shot him twin glares. “I was the first one to toss the idea out there, but everyone immediately agreed to it.”
“We did,” Phillip admitted. “But only after you started a fight because you were toying with the idea of going solo.”
“What?” My jaw dropped. Jake had told me the band loved each other and wasn’t breaking up. He said the argument wasn’t about anything. It was just stupid stuff, he claimed, brushing away my questions.
This didn’t sound like something small and stupid you could just forget about.
Jake’s jaw tightened. “I wasn’t toying with anything. I got an offer to release a side project, that’s all. I wouldn’t have to leave the band to do it.”
“Then why didn’t you want to come to our band meeting?”
“Because I’d been in the middle of working on a song!”
“And it was more important than US?”
Jake stood there wordlessly, a stubborn set to his jaw.
“See?” Phillip said knowingly. “That’s about the point the meeting began going downhill. Then everyone started fighting.”
Jake avoided Phillip’s gaze, staring out into the darkness instead. “I didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t care.”
“But you did.”
And how come it never got cleared up? Why’d they all let it go for so long and think that just dropping everything would fix things between them?
“You should’ve just talked this out,” I said in frustration. Ghosting the people who mattered to you never solved anything. Under my breath, I added, “I can’t believe you’re still making the same mistakes.”
“Hey,” Jake said, turning sharply back to me. “I wasn’t the one who changed my phone number.”
I blinked like I’d been slapped. Was that about Phillip or about me?
Six months after Jake left, I started working at the café more. Mom got me a new cell phone and registered it as a business line to save money. I had to get a new phone number too, one I never bothered to give to Jake. Because why should I? We’d already fallen out.
Had Jake tried to contact me later and I’d never known?
Had a message meant for me gone to someone else instead?
What had he said?
I wanted to ask. But I also didn’t, and I stared at him, caught between the night air biting my skin and the heat of his gaze on mine.
Had I made a mistake?
Or did I just want to believe Jake had still cared enough to reach out even half a year after he left?
Someone cleared their throat, making Jake and me jump. Apparently, we’d forgotten Phillip was there . . .
And watching the two of us with a deeply fascinated expression, like we were a TV show he couldn’t look away from.
“You know,” Phillip said conversationally, “when Jake first contacted me, I was wondering why he’d ask me to help out a cat café. But now, I’m too busy thinking about what a charming name Lucy is.”
I didn’t know whether to blush at the compliment or laugh at how ridiculous the situation was.
I mean, the absolute teen heartthrob of the music world had interrupted an argument between his bandmate and me over a video business meeting about saving my family café while on a roof after midnight. To flirt.
“Is Lucy short for anything?” Phillip questioned. “Like Lucille? Or Lucinda, perhaps?”
“Luciana, actually.”
At my admission, Phillip leaned forward, interest alight in his eyes. “That’s a beautiful name, love.”
Jake was right. Phillip really couldn’t turn off the flirting.
“Did you ever hear,” Phillip continued, “that my grandmother’s named Luciana?”
“Err . . . no?”
“Well, that’s probably because it’s not true. Anyway, I’m sold,” Phillip said, throwing a look at Jake that for some reason looked downright evil.
Something told me the Brit was playing a game.
And having far too much fun with it.
“You’re sold?” I repeated skeptically.
Phillip nodded. “I’m down for your pitch.”
“You’re really okay with coming here and performing?” Jake questioned, apparently as dubious as I was.
“Stop sounding like you’re trying to talk me out of it. Of course I’m coming to the café,” Phillip replied, gesturing toward me. “I must see this beauty in person.”
I arched an eyebrow, feeling like he was missing the point. “And save the cats.”
“But of course,” Phillip replied smoothly. “I’m always on call for damsels in distress. Or Madison Square Garden.”
“Right,” I said, not feeling convinced at all.
What was he up to? I knew Phillip didn’t actually like me, like me. From what I’d seen, he just flirted like some people breathed. So what was his angle?
Giving up, I shrugged. It didn’t matter in the end as long as it got the performance for the café.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “Jake said his manager thought this would help him rehabilitate his image, but I know you don’t have that problem, so I really appreciate you interrupting your break.”
“Of course, Lucy,” Phillip said. “But Jake—”
“Is really thankful too,” Jake interrupted, cutting him off and making Phillip give him a peculiar look. Why were neither one of them making any sense? “Thanks, buddy.”
“Uh-huh. I see,” Phillip said, tone flat. He gave Jake an unreadable look, before turning back to me and pasting on that famous heart-melting smile of his. “I’m looking forward to getting to see more of you, Luciana,” he said flirtatiously. “Just wait until—”
Except I’d have to wait for a while, apparently, because all of a sudden the screen blipped to black.