Billy makes a considering noise. “She give you trouble?”
More than he could possibly know. But again, I’m notgoing to admit that to Billy. Not when he practically spoon-fed me this opportunity. Disappointing him has always felt akin to what I imagine it feels like to disappoint your dad, for someone who has a healthy relationship with their father.
“No trouble.” I rub my jaw, stubble scratching against my palm. I really could use a shave, but it’s just as well I don’t have the time. I’d probably nick myself if I tried to wield a razor in my current condition. “She is putting up a good fight, though.”
Billy laughs. “She’s scrappy—I’ll give her that. But you know as well as I do that she only got where she is because she sucked off Griffin Hastings.”
I frown at the gray carpet underfoot, an uncomfortable heat snaking up my neck. At the time, yeah, I was annoyed she was getting special treatment from Hastings. That she was promoted so young, and without a relevant degree. But whether that was Eleanor’s reason for getting involved with him or not, it doesn’t change the fact that Griffin was older, and in a position of power over Eleanor, and it was just… not all on Eleanor, the way Billy is making it out to be.
I’m not under any illusions about Billy. Alcoholism aside, he’s no saint. He has a reputation for being a bit of a prick, and I’ve known him long enough to recognize it’s well earned. He doesn’t mince his words, and that rubs a lot of people the wrong way. It tends not to bother me, personally—you don’t succeed in a cutthroat industry like ours by playing nice or worrying whether everyone likes you. Besides, this is the man who fostered my love of music. He was the first person I called when I got my acceptance letter to Berklee College of Music. Four years later, he flew across the country to see me graduate. My dad didn’t show up, but Billy was there, sitting right next to my mom, looking proud as hell when I acceptedmy diploma. So yeah, I let a lot of his more indelicate comments slide.
But every now and then shit like this comes out of his mouth, and even I can see why several big names have cut ties with him in recent years.
“You think she’ll try to talk her way into Freddie’s pants?”
My mind immediately rejects the idea, lip curling in distaste. “She wouldn’t do that,” I bite out.
Billy grunts. He doesn’t sound entirely convinced. “Either way, I’m sure it won’t take much to poison the well against her.”
Given that Atlas never offered me any fatherly advice, good or bad, I’ve always appreciated guidance from Billy. I like that he feels close enough to me to share his unadulterated opinions. That said, Billy came up in a different era. So sometimes, like right now, it’s shit advice that I fully intend to blow off, same way I probably would with my actual dad, if he were alive and interested in giving his thoughts on my career. It’s just nice to know Billy cares enough to weigh in. I don’t need all of his suggestions to be winners. And I definitely don’t need to talk shit about Eleanor to close this band.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Go get ’em, kid.”
I hang up and scrub my hands over my face, psyching myself up for the day ahead. It’s overwhelming, trying to wrap my head around everything that needs to be done. I have to narrow my focus: Coffee. Breakfast. Annulment. Then close this deal and be done with Vegas.
Done with Eleanor Thompson too.
CHAPTER FIVEELEANOR
I’m in the cab on the way to pick Adam up when I realize I’m still wearing the wedding ring. For a moment I’m mesmerized by the shine, the way it looks on my finger. It’s a simple, timeless metal band. I have no idea whether I picked it out or if Adam did, but it’s exactly my style, the sort of ring I could see myself wearing every day for the rest of my life. If it were given to me by someone else, that is.
I mutter a harsh curse, which draws the driver’s gaze to his rearview mirror. I meet his eye and shoot him a tight smile before dropping my gaze back to my hand. I tug at the ring. It doesn’t move. I try surreptitiously licking it and twisting harder, but it will. Not. Budge.
We pull onto the palm-lined drive leading up to the resort, and I force myself to give the ring a rest as the front entrance comes into view. It occurs to me that I don’t have Adam’s number, but thankfully he’s already waiting outside with a drink tray balanced in one hand, so I’m able to wave him over easily.
He slides into the back seat and wordlessly passes a Starbucks cup to me.
“Oh.” I grab the cup and frown at it for a moment. It’s a nice gesture. Like,weirdlynice. Makes me feel like an asshole for not bringing him the eye drops. “Thank you.”
He nods and holds out a small bottle of pink raw coconut water. “Got these too.”
I’ve never been a fan of coconut water. Even the expensive stuff tastes like melted plastic mixed with a bath bomb to me. I’m a little slower to accept this drink from him. “You can take the guy out of LA, huh?”
“You’re dehydrated. It’ll help.”
It may also make me puke, which I am determined not to do. But he’s right, I am dehydrated.
“Thanks,” I say again. “This was thoughtful.”
He grunts in response, already tipping his head back like he’s going to try to sneak in a nap. Since his eyes are closed, I take advantage of the opportunity to look him over. It’s obvious he showered, his hair neatly combed and slightly damp. His stubble seems to have intensified in the past hour, but I can’t say the scruff is a bad look on him. I’m almost annoyed by how well he’s managed to pull himself together, but then I notice he’s inexplicably swapped his shoes for fuzzy white slippers. I stare at them for a long moment before shaking my head and lifting my gaze back to his face. He’s also wearing glasses. I’ve never seen him in glasses before. I didn’t even realize he wore contacts. It feels like the Superman effect in reverse—like I’m seeing Clark Kent for the first time—and it’s unnerving.
The driver pulls my attention away. “Where are we headed next?”
I give him the address of the chapel, which happens to be named Happily Ever After.
Hahaha,fuck my life.
