AllFreeNovel
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It’s video after video of me performing last night. Posts with comments that are supportive. Complimentary. Some of them even sound like stark raving lunatics.
Marry me, Tate. You’re so fucking sexy!
Ohmygod did you see that smile on his face? UGH.
I’m pregnant.
And those are just the tame comments.
Some of the videos are of women at the party reacting to my performance, their expressions full of shock and awe, their enthusiasm translating to the screen. I made these women happy.
I made them scream for me. And I haven’t done that since I don’t remember when.
I open up other social media sites and am greeted with much the same, my phone continuing to blow up with notifications, calls from unknown numbers that I send straight to voice mail. I don’t know what’s going on, but maybe Simon was onto something.
Maybe—God, it’s hard to admit this without getting my hopes up, something I seriously want to avoid—but maybe I actually have been given a second chance.
Once I’m dressed and primped for my meeting with Simon, I take an Uber to his office downtown—I’m going to have a fat million bucks in my bank account; I can afford it—and show up promptly at three, our agreed-upon meeting time. I’m ushered into his office by a hot little number wearing a black formfitting dress that shows off her curves. The flirtatious smile she’s sending my way has me in an even better mood than I was in before I arrived.
The moment the door shuts, Simon is pointing at the chair in front of his massive desk. “Sit.”
I come to a stop. “What’s your problem?”
“I saw the way she looked at you.” His gaze is focused on his phone as he taps out a message to someone.
“She’s hot.”
“She’s not for you.”
“Why? Because she’s for you?”
Simon glances up from his phone. “As a matter of fact, yes.”
My mouth hangs open for a second. “Get the fuck out.”
Simon is all right looking, I guess, but I can’t imagine him banging total hotties that are my age on a regular basis.
“She just so happens to be my girlfriend. How else can I get a woman who looks like that to work for me on a Sunday? So yeah. Stay away from her.” Simon sets his phone on the desk, his focus now on me. “Besides, I thought you were interested in someone else.”
I stare at him for a moment, drawing a blank.
“Scarlett Lancaster.” He pauses, the look on his face incredulous. “Remember?”
“Right. Fuck. I’m totally hot for her.” He thinks we’re together? I guess I can keep up the facade.
“Looked like you were last night.”
I lean back in the chair and lift my leg, resting my left ankle on top of my right knee. “Those photos of us were pretty good, huh.”
“They were fucking great. Chef’s kiss, as the kids say. You know what was even better?” Before I can answer, he continues. “Your performance. Jesus. You sounded...”
I sit on the edge of my seat, waiting for the rest of his words. My heart is racing, my body tight with anticipation. I catch myself gripping the chair arms and try to relax my cramped fingers.
“... you sounded pretty fucking amazing, Tate. Your voice was clear. You sounded better than you did back in the day. Deeper and more mature.”
I bask in his compliment for a moment, not saying anything.
“Five Car Pileup was a bunch of teenagers playing at singing about love and relationships, shit you kids knew nothing about. Now you’ve got a few more years of experience in you. You’ve struggled, and you’ve come out the other side, and it shows,” Simon says. “You should be proud of yourself.”
