“Do you really think she’s going to keep him as her manager? At this point, she must be regretting choosing his side. And going forward, it’s going to be difficult for you two to co-exist. Maybe the next album will just focus on betrayal and you both cussing one another out every other song.”
“That’s the thing …” Fancy raised her eyebrows. “After the tour, I don’t ever want to lay eyes on her again.”
“So, you don’t think with time and a proper apology maybe you can move past it?”
“Not you offering Darla a Hail Mary.”
“I just know what she means to you. Sometimes the people we love hurt us. But that doesn’t mean we stop loving them.”
Fancy pushed her curls from her eyes. “I’m going to love her from afar. I don’t wish her any ill will.”
The expression on my face made it clear that lies were detected.
“Okay I wish her a little ill will. I hope she steps on a Lego and her bra strap is constantly falling off her shoulder. I hope her edges never slick down, and her hair never curls over. Just limp, lifeless strands. And maybe just maybe if we live in a merciful world, she’ll get scammed by a fake prince who steals all her money.”
“So, you’ve given this some thought.”
“Just a little.”
“What does that mean for Whiskey Wild?”
“We’ve contractually obligated to produce one more album. But my agent thinks if we present another option they might bite.”
My blank expression made it clear I wasn’t following.
“A solo project … for me. My lawyer hinted I may be able to retain the group name. But I don’t want to record under that moniker. Whiskey Wild was for Darla and me. If I go solo, I’ll have to call myself something else.”
“Fancy Palmer Solo Dolo.”
“Single like a dollar bill.” She dropped her eyes to the table, her shoulders slowly slumping. “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”
“I already told you Whiskey Wild was more you than Darla. You don’t need her, you never have.”
“Yeah, but when you’re a solo act, there’s no one to share the blame when shit goes sideways.”
“It’s not going sideways, it’s only going up from here.”
“Maybe.” She hopped a shoulder. “It would be exciting, sort of starting over.”
“It’ll make the success story all the more sweeter. You’ll be like Lionel Richie, Diana Ross, Beyonce.”
“No one is like Beyonce.”
“I prefer Kelly Rowland myself. That woman could do ungodly things to me. I’m talking spanking, I would get on my knees and just?—”
“Note to self, never allow you in the same room as Kelendria Rowland.”
“Probably a good idea.”
Fancy tossed a highlighter at me. “Seriously though, I have to finish the tour. I tried to get out of it, but my lawyer said I signed a contract and could be held liable if we miss any dates.”
“How long?”
“Three months give or take.” She worried her bottom lip. “More give than take.”
Three months was a long time. In that time one or both of us could get cold feet. You know that saying, “Out of sight, out of mind,” what if my absence made her heart grow frostier? “What happens after that?”
“I guess that’s really up to you. I’m not looking to insert myself into your life if that’s not what you want. I know you have a routine here and my presence can be disruptive. And shit maybe this is all moving too fast?—”
