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I grumbled some more to him and kept kneading my fingers against my forehead.
Cam moved within the sheets and yawned loudly as she sat up and rubbed her hands over her face. “Is that coffee for me?” she questioned, turning in Tyler’s direction.
“Never,” he huffed, picking up her bra and tossing it her way.
“It’s good to see you, too, Tyler.”
“How about you piss off, Satan,” he replied, completely unentertained by my reoccurring mistake. It was no secret that the two of them hated one another. Even before the cheating rumors, Tyler deemed her unworthy of his attention. He and Alex had had the same viewpoint on her: she was using me to further her name.
I couldn’t bring myself to believe that. Somewhere inside of her was the kind soul I knew years before. At least those were the lies I’d told myself to get through each day.
“I’ll get my own coffee. I have to get going, anyway. I need to find a charity to donate to in order to get some good press,” Cam stated.
“You don’t give to charity for good press,” I muttered.
She rolled her eyes. “That’s the only reason we do charity work. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
Cam slithered her body around in my bed until she was placing her bare chest against my back. Her cold brown skin pressed up against the darkness of mine, and for a second we make-believed that our bodies connected, even though we both knew we were forcing the pieces together from two mismatched puzzles.
“Did you talk to your management about letting me perform during your show tonight?” she asked me, reminding me that I had a show that night.
“I am his management, and the answer is hell to the no,” Tyler remarked.
Cam released an annoyed huff. “When are you going to fire him?”
“Never,” I replied.
“You hear that? Never. I’m just waiting for the day that he fires you,” Tyler said.
She hissed in his direction, and he hissed right back at her.
She moved her lips to my ear, and my body slightly revolted from her simple touch. I was almost certain her eyes were locked on Tyler to prove some kind of point to him. That she had control over me, not him. “Last night was fun,” she commented, her voice smoky and dry. Fun? Was it? I’d drunk too much to truly recall. Her hair swayed back and forth, brushing against the nape of my neck. “I have to get to some meetings. I’ll see you tonight.”
I didn’t say anything to her. She didn’t expect any form of communication from me. Cam and I didn’t talk. Well, she talked, I didn’t, which was fine for her. All she ever wanted was to have someone sit and listen to everything she said. While she needed someone to listen, I needed someone to stay. At night she’d lie beside me, and for a few moments in my life, I’d pretend that the world wasn’t crashing around me and I’d feel less alone.
Crazy how loneliness led people to places they probably didn’t belong anymore.
Cam tossed on her dress with a smug expression and a look of control over me. “Bye, Ty,” she said, snatching the coffee from his hand and working her hips left and right as she exited the room.
Tyler looked disgusted from the sight of her leaving my room. “This is your daily reminder that you don’t need to share a bed with the devil,” he commented. “Anyway, get a move on. We got to get going. You should’ve already been showered.”
He moved over to my closet doors and swung them open, revealing a massive space filled with more designer clothes than any person should’ve ever possessed. There was a huge kitchen-style island in the middle of the closet with pullout drawers revealing expensive watches, designer socks, and jewelry that was worth more than most people’s house mortgage.
“I was thinking, maybe we should reschedule the concert.”
“You’re joking, right?” he asked, exiting my closet with an outfit for me. “You’re the one who agreed to this performance tonight.”
That wasn’t a lie. The concert was my idea. After reading so many articles about how I was falling apart and a complete mess, I felt as if I had to prove I was doing okay—even though I wasn’t. My career wasn’t simply my own—I had a team of people depending on me to keep making music. From my manager, to my PR team, to Kelly, to Ralph, who thankfully had survived the car crash with only minor injuries. People’s livelihoods depended on me. When my record label gave me the option to become a solo artist, it was a chance to make sure my team all stayed employed.
Still . . . I didn’t know how to be a solo artist.
Hell, I didn’t know how to exist without my brother.
