Chapter 2 #3
Liam cheers, and his excitement is almost enough to make me laugh. This plan is wild. Am I seriously agreeing to this? I think of the schedule Miranda sent me, then look at my best friend’s smiling face. Yep, I’m doing this. “I guess I’ll see you on Friday.”
“See you Friday.”
We end the call, and I stare at the ceiling, my thoughts a tangled web of confusion. Can I really go through with this?
Doubt clings to me like bad perfume throughout the day, right up to the party celebrating the end of the tour.
Obnoxiously loud music thumps from speakers dotted around the venue we hired out.
I take a sip of my mocktail, counting down the minutes until I can leave.
The bar is full to bursting with people dressed to impress.
I’ve been here two hours already, and my social battery is officially flat.
The next in a seemingly endless stream of people congratulates me on a successful tour.
My face moves the right way, and my mouth says the right things, but my heart isn’t in it.
The only time I feel a glimmer of anything is when I’m speaking to the dancers, singers, musicians, crew, and creatives whose hard work made the tour happen.
I’m grateful to all of them, and they deserve to be celebrated tonight.
I already sent everyone handwritten cards and gifts commemorating the tour, but I know they’ve been looking forward to this party.
If I could muster enough enthusiasm, I’d join them on the dancefloor.
As it is, I barely have it in me to stay standing.
After the gym this morning, I hung out in the suite all day—I even got a nap in—but I’m still exhausted.
Nails dig into the bare skin of my upper arm, making me flinch.
“You could at least pretend to be happy,” Miranda hisses into my ear.
To anyone who might glance our way, it will look like she’s congratulating me too.
They can’t feel the sharp press of her acrylics leaving indents on my flesh.
They don’t see that there’s no light in her eyes to make her fake smile believable.
“Of course I’m happy. I’m living the dream.” My response is an echo of what she’s been telling me for years, but since it’s her and not anyone else, I don’t bother selling it. The smile I’ve kept carefully in place all night is nowhere to be found, and my voice sounds flat.
“Don’t get smart with me,” she snaps. “You will stay here for at least another hour, smiling and acting like you are having the time of your life. We leave for the airport at four AM. Make sure you’re ready.”
“Fine.”
Her nails dig in even harder. “What was that?”
“Yes, Miranda.”
She lets go. “Better.”
Miranda waves over a handsome guy in his twenties with artfully styled dark hair and deep-brown eyes.
As he saunters over wearing a cocky smirk that pairs perfectly with his leather jacket, I note he looks vaguely familiar even though I’m fairly certain we haven’t met.
“This is Alexander. You’re going to dance with him. ”
“Why would I do that?”
The guy’s grin falters.
“His new film comes out in two weeks. It’ll be good for you to be seen together.” Ah, he’s that Alexander—Hollywood’s bad boy.
“So the dance is a photo op,” I state flatly.
“Of course.”
“No thanks.” Turning my attention to Alexander, I continue, “No offence but if I’m seen with you tonight, people will assume there’s something between us, and I have no interest in whatever scheme you and my mother have cooked up.”
“You’re not exactly my type either, princess—my team arranged this.”
Relieved he’s about as invested in this stunt as I am, I’m quick to respond. “Well, I’m not doing it, so your team will have to find somebody else for you to pose with.”
Alexander shrugs. “Fine by me. Later.”
“Melody, you will go after him—”
“I will go back to the hotel right now if you don’t drop this,” I warn.
“Have it your way.” She lifts a hand to make a shooing motion at someone off to my right. “I thought you might be difficult, so I arranged for the photographer to get shots of the two of you talking. Those will have to do.”
You have got to be fucking kidding me. “You’re unbelievable.”
“No, I’m excellent at my job. You should be grateful I’m here to keep you on track. Without me, you’d have already faded into irrelevance.”
Screw this. “I’m going back to the hotel.”
“No. You have to stay for another hour, or it will look like you don’t—”
“I’m going. Since you’re so great at your job, you can deal with how it looks.” I stride away from her as quickly as the crowd of cheerful partygoers around us allows.
Miranda will never stop. Since ending my call with Liam this morning, I almost talked myself into believing I was overreacting, but I’m not. She’s the problem, not me.
My resolve hardens the further my feet carry me from my mother.
I need to get away from all of this, and it has to be now.
Waiting is no longer an option, not when I’m one bad interaction away from burning it all down, consequences be damned.
I’m going to Pine Grove. There’s so much to do, but for the first time in a long time, I feel a spark of something so unfamiliar it takes a moment for me to name it. Hope.