Page 3 of Covet (The Red #3)
Chapter Three
Elle
Listen to Life is a Highway
by Rascal Flatts
I came out of the audition frustrated and still pissed off from my conversation with Coop.
My agent had sent me to an open casting for a small part in a pilot taking place in New York.
The role was for the little sister of the accused criminal, who has a dramatic break-down as she defends his innocence. I knew I was perfect.
Until I saw the waiting area overstuffed with girls—all of them gorgeous and hungry and young.
I tried to filter out my focus to being the character, but I think the moment I walked in, I lost the role.
The casting assistant flicked her gaze over me, took my headshot and resume, then disappeared.
I stood there waiting like an idiot for the team to tell me to start reading, but all they did was whisper back and forth to each other, shuffling around photos.
When they finally told me to start, I knew it was done. They were half watching and obviously not interested. I finished quickly, kept my professionalism, and fought tears when I got back on the dirty sidewalk, the air stinking of weed.
I couldn’t do this anymore.
In the beginning of summer, I’d been ready to explode with my role on a hot show.
But then the strike happened, the episode was never shot, and I lost all my momentum.
Things were now re-opened but I didn’t feel like my old powerful self.
With all the crap that had gone down with my friends, and losing Landon to LA, I was in a tailspin.
The only thing I’d ever dreamed of was being an actress.
Now? I wasn’t even sure fighting for my dream was worth it.
I’d gotten sidetracked after the song I did with Unison blew up. Noah had pushed me to do the vocals for exposure, but I had no idea the song would do so well. Suddenly, Adam’s manager, JJ, was asking if I wanted to do some guest spots and even go to LA.
I’d said no, even though Coop and Noah were pushing me to take advantage.
I knew I was a good singer, but I’d never loved it the way I did acting.
Something about slipping into another person’s skin gave me this amazing freedom—it was like a drug.
Music was different. I didn’t get to be someone else, and felt more exposed. Music made me vulnerable.
Coop said it was stupid because they were the same thing, but I couldn’t help it.
Except now? Maybe I needed to see if I could love singing like acting. There were more opportunities. Adam broke out with Unison, and Noah had a ton of contacts.
Noah.
His name brought a mix of emotions. We’d gotten closer this year.
Working together and hanging out more had solidified our friendship.
He made me feel different than Coop. As if he saw beneath the surface to my very soul, especially when we created music.
His lyrics had a poetic flair, but his real strength was mixing music to fit the words.
Noah was a genius matching style and tempo to bring out the most emotion.
When I told him, he laughed and said it was just his DJ skills, but I was the one with the real talent.
It was weird the way he seemed invested in my voice—as if he saw something I couldn’t.
There were stars in his eyes when I sang, which gave me a sense of power.
I’d never had a man look at me like that.
It was the way I always imagined acting on the big screen would feel.
Invincible.
Coop kept pushing for me to give up acting.
He thought chasing auditions when I could make money singing like Adam was a better choice.
When we first got together, I’d been in love with his creative soul—believing his photography gave him a deeper level we could share.
I imagined endless long night talks about life and love and philosophy.
But as time went on, I realized he was simple and stark.
He didn’t like too much emotion so when I turned melodramatic—as he termed—he backed off and tried to give me tough love.
Tangled up in my thoughts, I decided to walk rather than Uber.
Fall in Manhattan was beautiful—from the pumpkin spice latte’s, trendy cable knit sweaters, boots, and of course, the crisp, bright sting in the air.
The weekends were empty because everyone headed to the Hudson Valley to embark on apple picking, pumpkin patches, and Halloween haunted barns, but I never wanted to leave.
The city was in my blood, cloaking me in drama and crowds; in garish flashing lights and dingy bars that promised happiness at 3am.
I hid well here, amidst the grime and fabulousness, I could trudge down the streets and be invisible. Like I was when I acted.
I pretended to be normal, but I was really fucked up.
Because I loved the way the city boldly lied without guilt.
Gleefully swearing to make all your dreams come true, then laughing as you fumble and fail.
It was a game I was addicted to playing.
Like the slot machine, if I pulled the lever enough times, I’d score a jackpot.
Who cares if I bet my soul to the devil?
It was a hell of a way to go.
I was wrestling with the temptation of stopping for a burger and fries for a pick me up when my phone shrieked. I slipped it from my purse and paused when I saw the name. A sliver of guilt cut through me when I realized how happy I was to see the name flash.
“Hey, Noah,” I said calmly. “What’s up?”
His voice was smooth and velvety, the absolute perfect radio pitch. “Hey, I want to run an idea by you. Do you have time to stop over?”
I paused. Coop had texted he was going to see Max, which pissed me off when we were struggling. When I said we should try to go to dinner and talk, he suggested Friday night even though he knew I worked at Red.
It was like he didn’t want to fix things between us. He’d rather be mad at Landon and Adam and kiss Max’s ass. I was getting sick of the whole thing.
“Sure. I was going to stop for a burger—want me to bring you and Daisy one?”
“Daisy’s at a play with her mom tonight. But I’d love one.”
“Got it.”
“Extra—”
“Ketchup. Yeah, I know. See you soon.”
I hung up. And wondered why I was happier to hear from Noah than my own boyfriend.
Pushing the disturbing thought aside, I quickened my pace and wondered what he wanted. An odd tingle skated down my spine. As if I sensed something was about to happen.
I didn’t know if it was for the good or the bad.
I guess I was about to find out.