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“Get out.”
“Babe, what?” Geesha frowns. “I’m sorry for whatever I said about your stupid, little band, okay? You know how much I care about you, Rhys. At the end of the day, everything I do is just me looking out for you—”
“I said get the fuck out please, Geesha.” Rhys cuts her off, mid-sentence. “Fuck. Didn’t you ever wonder why we never amounted to anything outside of the bedroom? Didn’t you ever wonder why I cut things off with you before I started seeing Alyssa?”
“Rhys—”
“Because she’s so much better than you’ll ever be, Geesha Riley,” he goes on. “And not just when it comes to her talent. When it comes to her heart, too. She’s everything you’ll never even have a chance of becoming, because she says what she means and wears her emotions on her sleeve. And you wouldn’t know a fucking genuine emotion if it was staring you right in your face.”
“Whatever, Rhys!” Geesha folds her arms across her chest. “Are you going to take me to bed or not? You’re wasting my time with this white knight routine, even if it is kind of hot—”
“I never want to see you again, Geesha,” Rhys interrupts her again, heading over to his apartment’s front door, soon holding it wide open for her to walk through. “Have a nice life.”
“Right.” Geesha rolls her eyes as she walks through the doorway. “I’ll see you whenever you’re in the mood for a blowjob that’s worth anything, Rhys.”
A few moments after Geesha’s out of his apartment, Rhys loudly calls out, “Please, tell me you guys got some of that?”
“We got all of it!” Van replies for the both of us, eagerness lining his tone. “We got fucking all of it, Rhys!”
Chapter 20
Alyssa
“So? Are you missing the spotlight yet?” Marina asks, plopping down on the couch in my hotel room, her fingers flipping through a glossy magazine. “Or are you completely devoted to the whole living-in-total-anonymity aesthetic?”
I’ve been hiding out in my hotel room for at least two weeks, occasionally jotting down a song idea in a nearby journal and completely avoiding my phone, trying my best to slip into full M.I.A. mode. It’s been hard, almost fucking impossible if I’m honest, not to reply to the myriad texts and phone calls I’m receiving from the guys, but I know that keeping no-contact is only going to make things easier since I’m done with the band for good.
Even though it’s absolutely killing me inside, not being able to hear Rhys’s laugh, not being able to see Van’s smile, not being able to swim in Cameron’s radiating magic.
“It’s not an aesthetic, Marina,” I correct. “I’m just…trying to figure everything out.”
“Well, at least you’re still writing music.” She smiles over at me. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“Pretty sure that just means that I’m not emotionally blocked.” I sigh. “Although I kind of wish that I were. Maybe then things wouldn’t feel so fucked up.”
“I don’t know if ‘fucked up’ is the phrase I’d use to describe how you’re feeling, babe,” Marina replies. “I think it’s pretty damn normal to miss your boyfriends when you’re changing into a long-distance situation.”
“We’re not changing into a long-distance situation, Marina,” I mutter. “We’re just…I don’t know. I have no idea what’s happening with all of us.”
“You guys will figure it out.” Marina says. “You pretty much have to, right? I’ve never seen you any happier than when you were with them, Alyssa. You’d be a fool to let something like that go.”
“Then maybe I’m just a fool.” I shrug. “Because I still can’t see myself back in L.A., Marina. Not until this shit with Geesha finally blows over—”
“Ugh.” Marina rolls her eyes, interrupting my response. “Let’s not talk about her right now. Let’s talk about something more important instead, like the fact that your dye job is dangerously on the verge of reverting to your real color, babe. Do you want me to pick you up another box of dye while I’m out?”
“Yes, please,” I nod. “And maybe pick up something good for dinner, too?”
“When you saygood, do you mean that you just want me to run by the Indian restaurant again?”
“Yes, please!” I repeat myself, happily grinning as I do. “I’ll take the usual order of tandoori and garlic naan.”
“Predict-able!” Marina singsongs as she stands from the couch. She puts on an English accent when she speaks to me again. “This is what keeps bands from making it big across the pond! You have to be different if you’re going to stand out! Just look at all the greats! Look at David Bowie!”
“Oh my God.” I can’t help but laugh at her sudden change in accent, genuinely amused by her complete personality shift. “No wonder you’re going to be a bigshot actress one day. Your ability to turn yourself on a dime is uncanny.”
“Thank you, thank you.” Marina playfully bows before she heads toward the front door. “I’ll be right back, okay? I just need to stop over at my hotel room and grab my keys, and then I’ll pick up dinner and hair color—”
Just then, Marina’s words are interrupted by a sudden knocking at the hotel room door. Marina shoots me a puzzled look, before she points toward the doorknob.
