Page 74 of Dream On

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Yes. We both know this, but that’s beside the point. Introduce her to the public as your new girlfriend. Turn the tragedy into a real-life love story.” Rudy steps closer, his tone pleading. “People crave happy endings. Make them believe everything worked out. Stevie gets her fifteen minutes, and you’ll be dominating headlines for months, maybe even years.”

I blink, trying to process what he just said. “You want me to turn my life into a publicity stunt?”

Rudy’s jaw tightens, but he keeps his voice steady. “Not a stunt. A story. It’s what you’re best at, right? Crafting narratives that people can’t look away from. This is just another chapter.”

“She’s not a chapter. She’s a person,” I volley back, but the words sound empty as soon as they leave my mouth. “She’s a person I left behind nearly four years ago, and that’s where she stays.”

“You already brought her back to life. This is a chance to make the most of it.” He softens, sensing my impending outburst. “Listen, I know it’s complicated. But think about what this could mean for both of you. It’s not just about the show. It’s about giving her an opportunity too. She gets to step out of the shadows and have her moment in the spotlight. And maybe…” He sighs, having the audacity to look dreamy-eyed. “Maybe you both get to rewrite the ending.”

He’s such a damn romantic.

And unfortunately for me, he knows far too much about my history with Stevie St. James, thanks to an embarrassing rock-bottom evening three yearsago when I spilled my pathetic guts to him. I blame insomnia as well as Rudy’s tweed blazer, his tortoiseshell glasses, and the little notepad in his hand that made me think he was a therapist.

Ever since, Rudy has become the only real friend I have out here. Which isn’t saying much, considering he’s an asshole 90 percent of the time, and I’m pushing one hundred. We’re constantly giving each other shit. But at the end of the day, I know he has my back, and he knows I have his. And that’s a rare thing in this part of the world. Arealvictory.

I shove a hand through my hair and turn my back to him.

“Her name got out,” Rudy says somewhat solemnly, breaking the sticky band of silence. “We did what we could to protect her identity, but I warned you it was a losing battle. You gave too much away. For a series ‘loosely based on true events,’ you might as well have handed them her autobiography.”

I turn to face him, chewing on my cheek. “I guess it was inevitable.”

“Well, now the media’s in a frenzy, and they’re digging into every detail of her life, trying to uncover what’s real and what’s fiction. It’s only a matter of time before they find something she’d rather keep buried.” He steps closer, studying me, trying to read my pinwheeling thoughts. “This is an opportunity to get ahead of it. Everyone knows her name now, but they don’t knowher—not yet.”

No…they don’t know her.

They don’t know how she can captivate an audience with a single look, how she sings like a goddamn angel, or how her talent is bigger than anything I could ever create.

But dragging Stevie into this shit show sounds like a nightmare. She’s better off staying far away from this town, tending to her cows and making stew from homegrown beans in the quiet suburbs.

I rub my forehead, mentally berating myself for even humoring this stunt. “Even if I did entertain your idiotic scheme—”

His eyes light up. Little stars and sunbeams.

“If,” I repeat, extending a firm hand. “She’d never go for it. Not in a million years. Guarantee you she’s hated me since I skipped town while she was stuck in a hospital bed with a busted leg. Then I ghosted her after she put her entirefuture on the line for…” My voice trails off. No one knows the truth about the car accident. No one except for Mom and me.

And my fuckhead father, who ultimately came through in the end like a real-life Saul Goodman, minus the charm. As much as it pains me to say.

“Hey, you owe it to yourself to at least ask,” Rudy prattles on, still trying to shoot his shot. “We can start small. The Silver Hope gala is in a few weeks. Bring her as your plus-one. Set the stage, so to speak.” He shrugs. “This could be the closure you need.”

I let out a joyless laugh.

Closure.

Is that what he thinks this is about? The idea of tying up loose ends, of putting a neat bow on everything that imploded in my face the night I made a deal with my parents and sold my dreams to the devil?

Stevie was trying to protect me, but her good intentions unraveled at my feet. I had no choice but to conform. To abide by Mom’s wishes, to cower under my father’s threats.

And that’s exactly what happened.

I’m not the same person I was back then. She wouldn’t even recognize me anymore.

There is no closure.

“No.” My fingers splay and then curl at my sides. “Sorry, Rudy.”

His hopeful expression wilts. “Lex, come on—”