Page 8

chapter seven

Emily

My facial muscles hurt from smiling. My feet ached from the toe-squeezing, five-inch spiked heels, and the clamp of my dress had dictated only small, shallow breaths for the last two hours. I felt like I was wearing a boa constrictor. I had somehow managed to bend just enough to ride in the limo, wave and smile on the red carpet, but I wasn’t sure I could hold on to the beaming grin one more second without a short break.

At least the premiere itself—a big-budget action movie Charlie had starred in—would take place in the dark where I could bend my spine a little, even if it meant rolls of mashed-down skin spilled out the top.

I hurried to the restroom, my shoulders dropping as I curled my spine forward and exhaled the bit of breath I’d managed to suck in just before exiting the limo.

“You’ve got this,” I muttered to myself. This was an important night for Charlie, and I was thrilled to be celebrating him, but arriving on his arm would also garner lots of press for me. The pictures from the red carpet splashed all over social media sites tomorrow would make any amount of physical discomfort completely worthwhile. They would provide a big spike in tour ticket sales the next day. I was already sold out in LA but was hoping to sell out in the entire US before my tour started. At least I wouldn’t be singing tonight. I could exist for the next several hours in this dress but singing would have been out of the question.

The surprising thing about finally “making it” as a singer was that there wasn’t a whole lot of singing involved. It was a disappointment I hadn’t considered before my popularity had begun to rise. Sure, I had recorded my album, but once that was done, the recordings had been handed over to technicians and sound engineers for the mixing and mastering. When that was done, it was time for the release of a press kit, media appearances, photo shoots and showing up at every event I was invited to in an effort to get my photo, and my name, in front of as many people as possible.

Of course, it helped that I was dating one of Hollywood’s most popular young actors, not only because cameras naturally followed him, and if I was on his arm, they followed me as well, but because he’d introduced me to a new echelon of society. Half of my team had come from introductions Charlie had made, high-level professionals that never would have taken my call if not for him.

But that wasn’t why I was dating Charlie. I mean, I had to admit I liked the attention, and it benefitted my career. But more than that, he was sweet and funny, and an all-around good guy—a rare quality in show business, I was beginning to learn.

I walked around the corner to the row of sinks, a long mirror stretched above them. For a moment I simply stood staring at myself. I looked good. Amazing even. Which was interesting considering how physically awful I felt. I’d become good at it though. Grinning for the camera regardless of whether I wanted to or not, laughing at jokes that weren’t remotely funny because I knew it was expected of me, making idle chitchat and appearing engaged even though I was dying of boredom. It was all part of the job. Part of being Nova. Someday I’d be able to make my own rules. Someday, singing, not media buzz, would once again be my focus. But for now, I had to play the game. And I would because I’d worked my entire life for this moment.

I heard the restroom door open and close and pulled myself straight, adopting a casual expression as I leaned toward the mirror and pretended to touch up my makeup.

From my peripheral vision, I saw a swath of emerald green, my eyes moving to my right as I met Layne Beckett’s gaze in the mirror. Oh no. I gave her a thin smile and went back to adjusting my makeup. I’d act casual, aloof, and then I’d stroll slowly out of here as if this was the dress I’d planned on all along, and whatever conniving she’d done to show me up had been a total fail.

For several beats, the bathroom was utterly quiet, tension filling the space. “I’m sorry, you probably came in here to escape all the fangirls, and now I’m going to act like one,” Layne said, turning my way, “but oh my God, I love your music. Seriously, if you knew how often I listen to ‘Find You in the Dark’ on repeat, you’d be totally embarrassed for me.”

I turned slowly toward her, narrowing my eyes slightly. What game was this? Before I had devised what to say, Layne tipped her head back and started singing a few bars. She put her hands over her mouth as though she had to physically stop herself from belting out the song, and then grinned. “Obviously it sounds ten times better when you sing it, but wow, what an emotional, heartfelt piece. You wrote it yourself, right?”

“Uh…yes.”

“True depth like that doesn’t come along very often in the music business.”

I tipped my head, completely taken off guard. “I… Thank you, Layne.”

She brought her hand to her chest and stepped back, eyes widening. “You know my name.”

I chuckled. “Of course I do. I’m a fan of yours too.” Which was the truth. Layne Beckett’s mother had been in the business since Layne was a little girl. Her mother had passed a couple of years before, and just recently Layne was attempting to follow in her mother’s footsteps. She was just as beautiful and talented and was born with an “in” which automatically opened doors for her. Of course, that meant she was currently my main competition, and according to everyone in my circle, was a backstabbing bitch and a cutthroat businesswoman. Which was why I was presently so off-balance. I had not expected…this version of Layne. Was it real or some sort of trick?

“Wow, well you just officially made my night. And I didn’t just say that because these events are tedious and stuffy, and anything might have made this night better.”

I let out a short laugh, surprised by the honesty. These events were tedious and stuffy. And afterward, everyone would gush about how amazing and wonderful it all was, and I’d nod along.

She grinned as I cut off the laugh I’d managed. Layne arched a perfect brow, her gaze moving downward to where my hand was held on my diaphragm as I attempted to push it farther to the center of my body where it had some room to expand. “That’s a Frida Valli, isn’t it?”

Was that the name of the designer who had sent me this dress? When it had arrived unsolicited, Destanie said it was pushy, rolled her eyes, and stuffed it in my closet. “Um, I think so, yes.”

“It’s beautiful. And you probably just made her a star by wearing it tonight. I try to wear up-and-coming designers too. This one just arrived this morning and was made by a nineteen-year-old designer. Gaia Laurent. Remember her name. She’s incredible.” She smiled. “But…can I…can I show you a little trick?” she asked, lowering her voice and looking around before she opened her small evening bag and removed what looked like a sharp hook from a tiny sewing kit.

“Uh…” Was this the part where she tore my dress to shreds like in Cinderella ? One could only hope. “Sure.”

“Lift your arms.”

My brows knitted in confusion, but I did as she said, at least as far as I was able. “Some more current designers construct their dresses with this specific stitch… Ah, yes…” She leaned in, using her tool to move down the seam.

I let out a small squeak, but rather than the dress falling apart, it simply opened a little bit, allowing me to take the first full breath since I’d put it on. “Oh my God. I might cry.”

Layne smiled, moving around to the other side where she used her tool to do the same thing to the opposite seam, providing me even more room.

“Voilà,” she said, and I turned to the mirror. The dress looked exactly the same, but she’d magically provided me with what felt like several inches of breathing room.

“I love you,” I said. And in that moment, I really truly meant it. Or maybe it was just the sudden flood of oxygen to my brain.

Layne laughed again. “Okay, well, forget about you making my night. I think you just made my year.” Layne’s phone, sitting on the counter, buzzed, and she leaned toward it, reading the text that flashed on the screen. “My manager is wondering where I am. I better go.”

“Thank you, Layne, seriously. It was so nice meeting you.”

“You too. Enjoy the rest of the night, okay?”

I gave an exaggerated eye roll and we both laughed again. This one went all the way through my body. “Hey, Layne. Be careful about leaving your drink unattended at the after-party. I’ve heard…stories.”

Her brows dipped, but she smiled. “Always good advice. Bye, Nova.”

Layne breezed out of the room, her emerald green dress flowing behind her, and I turned back to the mirror, simply enjoying the act of breathing for a few moments. My stomach growled. Maybe I still had time to eat a few bites of dinner.

I stared into my own eyes, thinking about how absolutely wrong the rumor mill had been about Layne. She hadn’t plotted to steal my fashion thunder. She hadn’t plotted anything. She’d given a budding designer a gift by wearing her dress to a red-carpet premiere. And so had I, though unwittingly. It’d come from last-minute desperation, not from generosity. Maybe I’d deserved to feel like a cased sausage for the first part of the night.

Be better, Emily. My mom always said that to me when I made a bad choice as a kid. Which was often. I’d judged Layne unfairly. I’d have liked to think I’d stop my assistant from actually spiking Layne’s drink had I witnessed such a thing, but…would I? Or would I look the other way and pretend not to notice? Would I have considered it fair and square for what I’d been told Layne had done to publicly humiliate me? Be better, Emily.

Yes, I’d judged Layne, and earlier… I’d judged Tuck. I had more reason for that. After all, the things he’d done weren’t just rumor. He’d committed a crime. He’d served time. He was a felon.

But you did know him once, before everything fell apart. Before he hurt you and everyone around him.

Once, he’d had honor. I had the sudden flash of a weight shattering the windshield of my dad’s prized car. The weight that I’d dropped while in the midst of taunting Tuck. And even so, he’d taken the blame so I wouldn’t bear my father’s wrath. He’d suffered both the humiliation and his dad’s anger—for me.

And all I’d given him was my first kiss.

Not that he knew that that was how I still thought of it.

His sacrifice had meant I was allowed to attend the music camp where I’d met a singing coach who’d changed my life’s trajectory. She’d seen my potential and taken me on as a client even though she was completely booked. She’d not only been vital in my growth as a singer, but she’d known a lot of the right people, and they had guided and mentored me, each one an integral stepping stone to my success.

And if not for Tuck…if not for that camp and everything that had occurred after that weekend… I might not be where I was today.

I sighed, removing my phone from my evening bag. There was a text from Charlie asking if I was okay and I sent a quick response that I’d be right out. As I walked toward the door, I composed a new text to my mother: Tell Tuck he has a job if he wants it. And before I could reconsider, I hit Send.

I’d only taken a handful of steps when my phone dinged with a response from my mother: You won’t regret it.

I snorted softly. Unlikely. But what was done, was done.

I pulled my shoulders back, plastered on my smile, and once again, pulled forth Nova.