“Exactly!” Rowland says, jabbing his finger in the air to dot his point. “You make great music, Haley. But you know what the problem with great music is? You need to actually hear it. Really hear it. Most people won’t give it a chance unless we sit them down and serve it right to ‘em with a cherry on top. Lexi is that cherry.”
I just shake my head. This can’t be happening. Everything about this is wrong.
“Listen.” Rowland leans forward over the desk. “You and Lexi, you’re like two sides of the same coin. Lexi’s got people’s attention, and you’ve got the talent to back it up. Alone, she’s going to be off the map completely in a few months, and all you’ll get are some great reviews and enough sales to buy a new guitar. But together,” he draws his hands together, locking them and smiling as if he’s proud of it, “you could take each other to a new level with this tour.”
“I don’t know…” I say, but suddenly I do know. Everything he’s saying makes perfect sense. I’d have killed to get a tour the size of Lexi’s a month ago. I was happy enough with the opportunity to just record an album, but this is a chance that probably won’t come along many more times. I remember Jenna’s words, about how she had ‘One chance. And that’s all.’
“Tell her, Brando,” Rowland says, sensing my still-lingering hesitation.
I try to just glance at him, but something about his eyes makes it impossible, and I find myself being pulled magnetically to look at him fully. Even with the stubble and the circles under his eyes, he’s magnificent. Hating him would be a lot easier if he didn’t look like that.
“He’s right, Haley,” Brando says slowly, almost regretfully. “The tour could be the difference between ten thousand album sales, or half a million. You’ll be reaching people in a tangible way, in their home towns, standing right in front of them, that all the internet buzz can’t even touch.”
I swallow hard. I think about a whole tour with Lexi. Her supporting act. No doubt she’ll never let me forget I’m only there ‘cause she is. I remember her lording it over me in the bathroom of the club: ‘Brando’s new little toy.’ I close my eyes and ask myself if I’ve really got the strength to do this.
“It’s just three weeks,” Rowland says, as if reading my thoughts. “Twelve dates.”
I remain silent. Rowland sighs, nodding sympathetically.
“Look, Haley, I get it. You don’t think you’re up to it. But you know what? You’ve already nailed one of the hardest TV gigs there is. You’re a natural. Just do what you—”
“Okay, okay,” I say, interjecting so that I don’t have to hear his voice anymore. I know he’s giving me a spiel – something I never felt from Brando.
I guess some guys are just better at lying.
“I’ll do it.”
Chapter 3
Brando
The second Rowland calls the meeting to a close, Haley springs out of her chair and breaks for the door, her slim legs not just for show. I bound after her, but she’s so fast that I only catch up just as she’s about to get into the elevator.
“Haley, please,” I say, grabbing her arm.
She spins around and I almost flinch when I see her eyes. It’s like I’m being skewered by them. It’s a look worse than any punch.
“Let go,” she says. It’s her voice, but it’s been possessed by something that even I’m scared of.
“Just give me a minute,” I say.
“Sure. You’re my manager. I can give you a minute. Starting now.”
“Come on, Haley.”
She checks her watch. “Fifty eight. Fifty seven. Fifty six…”
“Are you not even going to give me a chance to explain?”
“Go ahead,” she says, folding her arms and pursing her lips. “Explain. Explain the bet you made. Explain how you got Lexi back to Majestic Records. Explain why you were in such a rush to make my record a hit, and what it really meant to you all along.”
“Haley, come on,” I say, putting my hand on her arm, gently this time. She bats it away violently anyway, and I see the delicate line of her jaw move as she grinds her teeth, breathing through her nose. “I’m sorry. Okay? I fucked up.”
She steps toward me angrily and puts her face close to mine.
“You didn’t fuck up at all, Brando. You got exactly what you wanted. I fucked up. I trusted you. Signed a deal with you. Slept with you. I told—” she stops herself as the elevator opens and lets some people out, lowering her voice a little, from furious spite to hissing venom, “told you about Rex Bentley being my father. You took advantage of me, Brando. I put everything in your hands: My career, my secrets, my…body. And it was all just a stupid fucking game to you. Explain this: How could you do that to me? To someone you claimed to care about? How did you lie so well?”
“I wasn’t lying,” I say, though I can barely look her in the eye. Her words fall like a sack of bricks, crushing me. It was bad enough losing her, but knowing that I hurt her this much is enough to push me over the edge. I try to speak. “I… I…”