Page 51 of Hidden with a Rockstar
I don't encourage her, after all I'm performing single.
I watch Jo across the room. She's with Rebecca, and Rebecca's leaning into her shoulder. Jo's arm is around Rebecca's waist. They're laughing at something, stealing chips from each other's plates. They look happy.
The booking agent's hand touches the small of my back. She's positioning herself for a photo. Someone will take it.
I excuse myself and go to the bathroom. I pull out my phone. I type:I wish you were here.
I stare at it.
I delete it and type:What did you eat for dinner?
She replies:A burger from the place on the corner. What about you?
I had tiny ones. I've had like ten but I'm still hungry.
Tiny food is a scam, they just make you want more.
Like everything in this industry.
I come back out to the event. The booking agent is still there. She smiles at me and I look away.
By the end of the night, I've had too much to drink. Not enough alcohol to have an excuse for the weight I'm carrying. I take an Uber home and sit in the back seat watching the city move past the window in neon fragments, thinking about Jo, who was brave enough to call me a manipulator to my face. Jo, who kept showing up early to sessions anyway. Jo, who is standing at a rooftop bar with her girlfriend in public and the world is not ending.
At home, I stand in my dark apartment and text Lena:I miss you.
She responds:Really?
Yes, I really do.
There's a long pause. I watch the three typing dots appear and disappear and appear again, like she's typing and deleting, trying to find the right words.
Rhonda. We need to talk.
CHAPTER 13
THE BALANCE
Ravita texts me at noon:Lets have coffee after work? I need to talk to you.
My stomach tightens. I spend the next five hours at my desk unable to focus on anything except the conversation that's coming. I've been trying to write a response to the same email for twenty minutes.Re: Q2 Budget Reconciliation. The words blur together. Client. Discrepancy. Reconciliation. None of it means anything.
My coworkers are laughing near the water cooler. Someone's birthday is coming up. They're planning a happy hour. They're asking who's coming. I'm nodding along while my phone sits on my desk like evidence.
By 4 PM, my hands are cold. My chest is tight. I check the group chat again. Marnie posted a photo thirty minutes ago:Belladonnas spotted at Third & Oak. Why are they EVERYWHERE now?The photo is blurry through a window, but I can make out Rhonda's shoulders. The bass case. She's probably at a label meeting. She’s wearing the grey hoodie.
I read the comments on Marnie's post.Still? They're always somewhere.I saw Jeremy at the grocery store yesterday.
I pack up my laptop and tell my manager I'm leaving early. She doesn't ask why. I've been leaving early a lot lately. I've become someone people don't ask questions about.
We meet at the café near the office. Ravita is already there. She's not eating. Her coffee is untouched. Her phone is face-down on the table. She's been waiting.
I sit down across from her. The chair scrapes. A woman at the next table looks up.
"Hey," I say.
"Hey yourself."
We sit in silence. Right now, the space between us feels suffocating. The barista brings me water without being asked. I don't drink it.
