Page 7 of Song Bird Hearts (Green River Hearts #4)

Valerie

N ot even two minutes pass after I cut the livestream before my phone starts ringing.

I look at the caller ID and hit ignore on the first two numbers I don’t recognize, but the third one I do.

Hitting the green button, I answer it on speaker because it feels safer.

If Perry can hear, maybe that’ll somehow keep me safer.

There are no pleasantries when I answer. No, “Hi, how are you?” or “Are you okay?” No. Kelly starts off just like Kelly always does.

“What the fuck?” she yells at me into the phone. “Where are you?”

“I’m not telling you that,” I reply, my face pinched at the immediate aggression.

Yeah, this is a shitty situation, but Kelly is hardly the one in a hard place.

I never particularly trusted Kelly before, but there’s no way to know if I can trust her now.

Telling her where I am seems like a bad idea, and I’m not even a spy movie kind of girl.

“You’ve gone and pissed off a lot of the upper elite, Val. There are stories dropping left and right talking about theft?—”

“I didn’t steal a damn thing,” I growl.

“You’re literally going viral right now. I told you to livestream the party! Not go snooping in the house!”

Two minutes. It’s been two minutes since I ended the livestream. Apparently, the rumors about the 27 Foundation’s reach are true.

“You made me go there,” I accuse her. “This is as much your fault as mine!”

“I thought you had enough sense not to livestream some shit you know you shouldn’t,” she spits. “I know you’re just some girl from a ranch in Wyoming, but I thought you were smarter than that!”

Kelly’s voice is getting progressively higher pitched the more she talks. It’s starting to hurt my ears, but that doesn’t make it impossible to hear the heavy insult she just hurled at me.

“Fuck you,” I hiss. “You no-good, prissy bitch.”

My mama would be disappointed in me, but that’s okay. This bitch deserves it. I’m her fucking paycheck and she’s gonna talk to me like that? I think fucking not.

“You need to fix this,” Kelly says, completely ignoring my insult. “You need to fix it right now. Start another livestream and say it was all faked for exposure.”

“No! Why the hell would I do that?” I ask seriously, knowing the moment I make a video like that is the moment I die from a mysterious illness.

“These people aren’t to be messed with, Val. Do you or do you not want fame? Silence is the cost of fame,” she says, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world to witness some bad shit and move on from it.

“I’ve never been the silent type,” I remind her. “And I hardly think ignoring literal murder is the way to go.”

Kelly goes silent for a minute and there’s a shift in the tone of the call.

Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever heard her remain silent for so long.

When she finally talks, her voice is different.

Gone is the Valley Girl accent. In its place is the tone of a woman that’s seen some shit and let it happen.

I can’t trust Kelly. I can’t trust anyone in this industry.

“Delete the livestream, Val,” she orders.

“Even if I deleted it, it’s already out there. There are probably hundreds of copies of it,” I defend. “It’s the internet. Not a mailbox.”

“You’re going to die?—”

“I understand that, but I can’t fucking change what happened!” I snarl. “And you’re seriously not helping.”

“Delete the video,” she snarls. “Or you’re going to find yourself in a body bag rather than on a star on Hollywood Boulevard.”

I tense, and my eyes flick up to Perry’s where he’s looking at me in the mirror.

This is on speaker, so he’s hearing every bit of it.

I can see his tension, the worry on his face, but he doesn’t look like he’s worried about anything other than my safety.

Perry may be the only person I can trust, but even that’s a stretch, and I won’t drag anyone else down with this ship as innocent as my driver.

“Goodbye, Kelly,” I say.

I hang up just as Kelly starts to shout, ending the call.

I drop my phone on the floor of the backseat and bring the heel of my boot down as hard as I can on it once, twice, until it shatters into a million pieces, until it feels like no one will be tracking me from it.

I’ve seen the movies. I know what I’m up against. I just really don’t know how to go about this other than to destroy the life line.

“What the hell are you doing?” Perry asks, wide eyed. He keeps driving through. Good ole Perry still does his job.

“Perry. I like you. You seem like a nice normal guy just trying to make ends meet.”

His eyes flick from the road back to mine. “I am.”

“Well, I just pissed off the wrong kind of people, and I don’t want you to get hurt. I’m probably gonna need you to drop me off somewhere.” I sigh and run a hand through my messy hair. “Somewhere I can travel incognito.”

“You got cash?” he asks.

“Not much, honestly.” I look over at Kevin Bacon where he sits on the floorboard. I’m glad he came with me and was waiting in the car. I’m glad Perry didn’t mind the company. If I would have had to leave him behind. . .

“I got a grand in my wallet from my last check,” he answers. “I can give you that. The bus line is probably the best way to get somewhere, but it’ll take a long time and the people you pissed off, well, if it’s who I think it is, they’re probably gonna be there.”

I nod, biting my lip. The solution hits me immediately but I don’t want to admit that I need the help. This is a dire situation though. I know I’m fucked. If anyone can help, it’s gonna be him.

“No need,” I groan. “Can I just borrow your phone real quick?”

He hands it back to me and I immediately type in the phone number I know by heart, the phone number he made me remember just in case. Of course he was fucking right.

The phone rings and when someone on the other line picks up, I don’t bother telling them who it is or saying hello. “I’m in trouble,” I murmur. “I’m safe right now, but I don’t know for how long. I need your help.”

There’s silence on the other line before he answers. “Be at the coffee shop on the corner of Venison and Broadway in ten minutes. Tell the barista you’ve broken both legs and need a good orthopedic surgeon. He’ll know what to do.”

“Got it,” I sigh. “Thanks, Hank.”

“And Val?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll see you when you get here.”

The line cuts and I hand the phone back to Perry. “Drop me at the coffee shop at the corner of Venison and Broadway.”

“Coffee?” Perry says, blinking in surprise. “Now? It’s like midnight.”

“Just do it please,” I beg him. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

But is it really? Is it gonna be okay? I just single-handedly destroyed everything I’ve ever worked for over a livestream video. It’s gone. The dreams, the money, the work. Gone.

I suck in a deep rattling breath, but I don’t cry. They don’t deserve my tears.

This entire industry doesn’t deserve my fucking tears.