“Put me up to what?” Billy is getting pissed now. I hear a cabinet door slam in the background.
“Coming to Vegas. Going after Dempsey… Going afterEleanor.”
“Jesus, kid. I don’t know where you’re getting this stuff, but no. I sent you there because Freddie wanted to meet with someone else and I thought they were perfect for your list.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Billy wouldn’t use me as a pawn. But he might, if he didn’t realize Griffin was using him as one too.
My hand falls back to my side, and I tip my head back, staring up at the dark sky. What little of it I can see, past all the bright lights of the city. “So he was never involved in any of this? You never spoke to Hastings about Dempsey?”
Billy hesitates. “We had lunch a few weeks back. It came up. But I still don’t see what the issue is here.”
Goddamn it.
I sigh and stare down at the pavement beneath my feet. I can’t tell Billy about Eleanor, but maybe that’s fine. Because none of this is really about her. It’s about me and Billy, and about the changes I need to make moving forward.
“The issue is that this whole thing has felt underhanded,” I tell him.
Billy scoffs in my ear. “It’s just business.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing yourself say that?” I snap. “It’s like your catchphrase. Every time you get called out for doing something shitty, you sayit’s just business, like it excuses any and all bad behavior. But it’s not the only way to do business, Billy.”
ForyearsI’ve told myself Billy is a good guy. Or maybe a not-so-good guy, but one I could always find a way to defend because without him, I wouldn’t be where I am. But clearly, I can’t be as objective about Billy as I thought. Me standing here is proof of that.
“You know I care about you, man. And you know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me in my career.” I toe the sidewalk and swallow thickly. I picture his face on my graduation day, the pride, the loud, embarrassing whistle he let out when they called my name. He’s taken his clients leaving so hard, and I never wanted to be one of the people who hurt him that way.
Then I picture my mom, giving me that look she’s been giving me my whole life, every time I drag my feet around a difficult decision. The raised eyebrow and pursed lips that say,you already know the right move, so make it.
Another inhale, and I force myself to spit it out: “I want us to have a relationship, but I can’t work with you anymore. And I don’t know if you’ll wanna be in my life if we never talk shop, but I hope you will be.”
Billy’s quiet for long enough I check the screen to make sure he hasn’t hung up on me. My heart inches up my throat, and for a moment I feel eight years old again. Just… hoping.
“You’re the closest thing I’ve got to family, kid.”
I wince and open my mouth to try to soften the blow, but nothing comes out. It is what it is.
“If that’s how you want things, then that’s how it’ll be. Besides”—he huffs a laugh—“I probably don’t have many years left in the industry.”
Guilt and relief battle for top billing inside me. “I don’t know about that—”
“Hey, I’ve had a good run. But I know I’m no one’s top choice anymore.” He sighs. “I want you to succeed, Adam. And I want you to do it better than I did, you know? Figure out a way to succeed and not wind up alone, if you can.”
My gaze lifts to the stage door along the side of the venue. To where I’ve been waiting for Eleanor. “That would be nice,” I manage. “Thank you for understanding, Billy. We’ll talk more when I’m back in LA, yeah?”
“You got it, kid.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONEELEANOR
Fiona leads me down the hall to a dressing room where Sheridan and Curtis are waiting. Sheridan is perched on top of the Formica counter that spans the entire length of the room, with the mirrored wall to her back. Curtis stands right at her side, but when he sees me walk in he squeezes her hand. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Sher shoots him a grateful smile and waits until Curtis closes the door behind him before flicking her gaze over to me.
“Hey. Thanks for sticking around.”
“No problem.” I glance to the side—the room is pretty much empty, aside from a couple of tote bags stuffed into one corner. A few chairs are tucked in at the counter, and I tug one out to sit in, trying not to feel weird that it positions me several inches lower than Sheridan. “How are you?”
Sheridan shrugs, slow and exaggerated. “I’ve had better days.”
She grabs a can of Diet Coke that’s sitting next to her andtakes a sip, then presses her thumb into the can. The dent releases with apop.
