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Is this a trick question? Something is off here. “Technically, I’m not booked, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
Vincent takes off his cap and scratches the top of his head. “Why?”
Thisis the trick question. All right. I can handle it. “Because Laurel and I broke up, so I don’t—”
“You broke up?” Vincent frowns. “When?”
I shift in my seat, alarms tearing through my mind. “Three weeks ago.” I knew I shouldn’t have trusted his calm behavior earlier.
“I didn’t know.” He puts the cap back onto his head and leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “Why?”
Laurel didn’t tell her family about us? I expected her to deliver the news to her parents and forget about me as if we had never crossed paths.
“Get on with it, kid,” Vincent prompts in a grimly encouraging voice. “Tell me what happened. I can at least get your side of the story. Laurel told us nothing.”
“I didn’t hurt her in any way, if that’s what you think happened, but I was the one who broke it off,” I admit, holding onto the decisions I made with Shane and Juliette—no sugarcoating and no pretending.
“Because?”
But sticking to my new mottos is harder than I thought it would be. I hate to let Vincent down, and it tears me apart to remember the moment I told Laurel we’re done. “Because being with her shot my band up through the charts.”
Vincent’s gaze sharpens. “Did you tell her that?”
“Yes.”
“In those exact words?”
“Yes!” He doesn’t need to pull all the details out of me. I’m already in agony. I have been ever since that cursed morning.Dummy.
Vincent huffs and pushes out of his chair. He storms toward his car, then swings around and drops back onto his seat again. “Are you out of your dang mind?”
One could make a case for that, but I don’t answer.
Vincent doesn’t need me to. “Do you like Laurel?”
“Yes.”
“How much? Just like? Maybe a little bit in love?”
“Stop—”
“What’s so bad about her boosting your ratings?”
“That’s not how I do things. I don’t need anyone saving me from my failures or promoting my art. The only way it counts is if I do it by myself. If we—Acid Churro Dreams—make it through our own effort.”
Vincent groans. “It’s too late to tell you to not be an idiot. You already are.”
“That’s why I told you it would be a bad idea for me to tour with you.” I rise to my feet.
“Sit,” Vincent orders in the coldest tone.
“No.” This may ruin my footing with him, but we’re not that close anyway.
He exhales through his nose and stands beside me. “Fine. Let’s do this your way. Tell me the story. The one that made you decide to adopt the lone-wolf mentality.”
“No!” My temper rises, scorching hot, and I take a second to calm down. “Laurel was all right with that. You don’t need to get upset.”
Vincent ignores that. “Tell me the story.”
