“Apology accepted. It will stay accepted if you’ll get off your point about the importance of social media versus sales. I know it’s important. I’m not disputing that. I’m just not doing it. If you want to set up a team to run social media for me, knock yourself out.”
“This meeting isn’t about creating a positive image through social media,” Killian addressed the entire team. “The media will say whatever they have to say when Skylar returns. The album is great. I have faith that her music will do a lot of the talking for her. The reason for this meeting is to assure Skylar that this career is possible without having the paparazzi follow her every move.”
“Of course. It is possible.” Lois turned to me. “We looked at your previous history with the paparazzi and, as you mentioned, a lot of it centered around your relationship with Micah Murphy. Our suggestion then,” she sucked in a breath, “and it is only a suggestion, is that you minimize your public appearances with Mr. Murphy. In fact, we think you shouldn’t be seen in public with him at all.”
It made sense.
But it still hurt.
Killian studied me with a furrowed brow, and I knew he was attempting to gauge my reaction to this advice.
“I don’t have a relationship with Micah anymore,” I said. “So that won’t be a problem.”
The rest of the meeting was a blur. The only thing I remembered about it was the way Killian watched me after they dropped the Micah suggestion.
When the four of them finally left us alone, Killian stayed where he was instead of coming to me. He asked, “What do you think?”
“Your director of publicity is more sales oriented than image oriented. She should be in marketing.”
“Noted. But I wasn’t asking for advice about my staff. I was asking what you think of their plans?”
“They’re fine.”
He frowned. “That’s it? Fine?”
“Fine.”
Keeping his expression clear, he pressed, “Even the part about Micah?”
“Now that you mention it, we need to talk.”
“About?”
“I did a lot of googling yesterday. Which always sounds dirtier than it is, unless you’re googling porn.”
Amusement lit his eyes. “True.”
“I’m going to contact Adam, my financial advisor. And since he’s Gayle’s son and Gayle’s my manager, I’m going to contact her too. And she’ll tell the band that I’m okay.”
He got up slowly, seeming to process this as he paced for a few seconds. Finally, he turned to me. “And you couldn’t have told me this before so your team could plan for this? We need to control how the press finds out about your return, Skylar.”
“Gayle isn’t going to tell the press. She’s going to tell the boys.”
“Why now? Three months ago, you signed a record deal rather than access your money and alert Gayle.”
“One, I don’t want to owe your uncle anything—”
“Skylar—”
“No,” I cut him off. “I’m paying you back for everything and I’m paying rent for my apartment. Plus, I want to start a charity for the homeless. That’s the money part of it.”
“A charity?” He blinked at me in confusion. “What the—”
“But mostly I need to let Gayle and the guys know I’m okay. I don’t have any other family but them.” Tears of anguish burned in my eyes, and Killian froze. “Three months ago, I couldn’t see past my own pain. I can now. They deserve to know I’m okay. They deserve an apology. I’ve been selfish for far too long. How would you feel, Killian? If you were them? If it was you I’d disappeared on?”
He studied me a moment and then let out a heavy sigh. “You’re right. You need to let them know you’re okay. But Micah? It wasn’t my idea about you not seeing him in public, but I do think it’s valid and not because of my personal feelings on the matter. He’s what stirs the fans and consequently the tabloids.”
“It’s not about Micah—it’s about all of them. And it’s not about anything romantic with Micah. You know that. We’ve been friends since middle school. No matter the shit between us, he deserves to know I’m okay too.”
His expression veered from annoyance to exasperation to concern and finally to what I gathered was understanding. “Okay. You’re right. You need to do this. So you do that, and we . . . well, let’s talk about this charity and how we can turn it into PR gold.”
I burst into incredulous laughter. “You’re incorrigible.”
My stomach fluttered as he offered a smile that was nothing short of devilish. “That’s show business.”
I DIDN’T KNOW THEN AS I called Gayle that it would change the course my life was currently on. I only knew that I owed her the kind of apology it would take a dozen lifetimes to make good. Of course, I didn’t have my old phone with my contacts in it anymore but I remembered Gayle would send our schedules and tour info via email and she always included her direct number on them.
When I logged into my email, I found all the most recent mail was junk. I was scared to scroll further down, in case I discovered the guys had tried to reach out over the last twenty-one months. I typed in Gayle’s name, found an old email that caused an ache of nostalgia in my chest, and dialed her number.
I thought maybe I might throw up, and I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to hear her because my heart was pounding so freaking loud.
“Gayle Abernathy,” she answered. “Hello? Hello, anyone there?”
Struggling to get the words out, I forced air out of my nose instead.
“Okay, creeper, hanging up now.”
“Gayle, it’s me,” I burst out, afraid she wouldn’t answer again.
Silence reigned.
She was definitely going to hang up now.
“Skylar?” she whispered in disbelief.
“Yes. It’s me.”
And more silence.
“Gayle?”
“One second.” I heard a door open and close in the background and then, “Where the fuck have you been?”
I flinched hearing the tremble of worry in her anger. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry? You’re sorry? I’ve been worried sick, kid. We thought you were dead and we couldn’t put a freaking missing persons out on you because of the letter and voicemail crap you left to let us know you were taking off. The cops refused to consider it a missing-persons case because you said you were leaving indefinitely. All you had left were a couple of months and we could have declared you legally dead because you haven’t touched any of your money. How did you survive without money? What have you been doing, you little brat?” She ended on a yelled sob.
My God.
Gayle never cried.
“Gayle . . . I . . . there aren’t enough sorrys in the world.”
She sniffled. “You bet your ass there aren’t. Oh my God, Skylar. I’m so mad at you but I’ve never been happier to get a phone call in my life.”
Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes. “I took too long.”
“Yeah, you did. So why now and not then?”
“Time,” I said. “That’s the only answer I can give. It was like I was sleeping for a long time and now I’m finally awake, and I can’t believe that I put you all through this. I woke up with a million apologies to give.”
“Where are you?”
I told her. Everything. The whole sordid story. The only thing I left out was my romantic relationship with Killian, so unfortunately, she didn’t get to know how good things were for me now.
Still, as she listened patiently, I felt the knot in my stomach shrink a little bit more.
NOT EVEN FIFTEEN MINUTES AFTER I hung up with Gayle, my phone rang. It was an LA number and my thumb hovered over the accept button for a few seconds as I fearfully considered who I would get on the end of the line.
Whoever it was, it wouldn’t be easy.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I answered.
“Skylar?” Brandon asked, sounding disbelieving. “God, is that really you?”
“Brandon?” I slumped on the couch, closing my eyes. It felt like years and years since I’d heard his voice. “It’s me.”
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. When Gayle called, I wasn’t sure she was for real. It still doesn’t feel real. Say something else,” he demanded.
I smiled through renewed tears. “I’m so sorry.”
He went silent.
“Brandon?”