Voice 2: “Shit. Did he… did he force you?”
Voice 1: “No. That’s the thing. I wanted to help. And this was the only way.”
Voice 2: “Did he hurt you?”
Voice 1: “Not physically.”
Voice 2: “How long has this been going on?”
Voice 1: “Remember when they got that Late Night gig?”
Voice 2: “That was five months ago.”
Voice 1: “Back in October I told Jackson I was going home to see my parents. I spent the weekend with him. That’s how they got the Amanda Chase tour.”
Voice 2: “Shit. Do you think he’s doing this to Amanda?”
Voice 1: “No. He doesn’t touch the talent. It’s too dangerous. They’re always watched. They’re more likely to tell someone.”
A few sniffles.
Voice 1: “But the girlfriends never do. Who would they tell? Who would believe them? They’d be sent home, broken, watching their ex climb the tower of fame while they’re left alone at the bottom.”
Voice 2: “Are you going to tell Jackson?”
Voice 1: “No! What am I supposed to say? I fucked Terk Henderson so your band could be an endcap display at Best Buy in the Northwest region?”
The video ends.
I remember what comes after that. Jackson and his girlfriend were screaming at each other in a parking lot before our last show. I didn’t speak up. I let him say awful things to her. After the show, everyone went their separate ways.
I look at Alana, her gaze unfocused like she’s connecting dots and calculating. My beautiful, amazing, caring—my stomach drops. Memories claw their way to the front of my mind. No. I don’t want to remember. No. Stop. But it’s too late, April 26…
I’m wearing a suit that’s slightly too small. We’re staying on the hundredth floor of the nicest hotel I’ve ever seen. CJ, Lena, and Amanda—plus their security—are waiting at the elevator. I forgot my phone and tell everyone I’ll meet them downstairs.
I go back to the room. By the time I return, I’ve missed the elevator. Beautiful hotel. Slow-ass elevators.
Terk Henderson steps beside me and presses the same button I hit seconds ago. I start freaking out. My boss is standing right next to me.
“This is a big night for you.” My voice cracks.
Terk grins from the corner of his mouth. His perfectly cut hair even frames his facial hair. He isn’t handsome, but he knows how to fake it.
“Yeah, it is. I get a brand-new office on Monday. Already planned the redecoration.” The elevator dings. The doors slide open. He steps in first. I follow and press the lobby button. “You’re the one hanging out with Amanda, right?” he asks. “Are you two writing songs or something?”
“Um, yeah. We might have one or two ready for the next album.”
He goes quiet. “She seems to like you. But mostly, I think she likes your girlfriend. That’s big. Amanda hates everyone.” Every alarm in my body blares.
“She likes Lena,” I say. I don’t know why I feel the need to defend Amanda. To tarnish whatever picture he’s forming of her. Terk scoffs and jams his hands into his pockets.
“Nah. They’ll be at each other’s throats in a few weeks. I’ve seen it a billion times.” He clicks his tongue and leans against the back wall. “You thinking about moving your girlfriend to L.A.? Most guys dump their high school chick and upgrade when they finally get into business. But not you.”
Vomit rises in my throat. It takes everything I have not to spill it on the floor.
“My dad’s offer still stands,” he continues. “We’ll pay her tuition at LABS. What’s her name—Kelly? She could intern at the office.”
Floor 30.
