The camera slowly backed away from Brett, revealing a dance floor in front of the stage where he sang. There was a crowd dancing, but they were cast in black and white while a lone blonde was strikingly colored.
I stilled as shock spread through me. The camera was careful to film only her backside and profile, but the girl was undeniably meant to be me. She was my height, with the same hair color and style as mine before I’d recently cut it. She had my curvy butt and hips, and her profile was similar enough to mine to understand immediately who she was meant to be.
The next three minutes of my life passed in a horrified daze. “Golden” was a sexually charged song and the actress did all the things Brett sang about—dropping to her knees for a Brett lookalike, making out with him in a bar restroom, and straddling his lap in the back of a classic ’67 Mustang just like the one Brett owned. Those intimate memories were intercut with shots of the real Brett still singing onstage with the rest of the guys in the band.
The fact that actors were playing us helped me deal with it a little better, but one glance at Gideon’s stony face told me it didn’t matter to him. He was seeing one of the wildest times in my life relived before his eyes and it was very real to him.
The video ended with a shot of Brett looking soulful and tormented, a single tear sliding down his cheek.
I pulled away and faced him.
His smile slowly faded when he got a good look at my expression.
I couldn’t believe how personal the video was. I was freaking out that millions of people were going to see it.
“Wow,” the host said, leaning into the band with mic in hand. “Brett, you really put yourself out there with this. Was it the song that brought you and Eva back together?”
“In a roundabout way, yeah.”
“And Eva, did you play yourself in the video?”
I blinked, realizing he was outing me as the Eva on national television. “No, that’s not me.”
“How do you feel about ‘Golden’?”
I licked my dry lips. “It’s an amazing song by an amazing band.”
“About an amazing love story.” The host smiled into the camera and rambled on, but I tuned him out, my gaze searching for Gideon. I couldn’t spot him anywhere.
The host talked to the band a bit more and I wandered away, searching. Cary came up to me with Ireland in tow.
“Some video,” he drawled.
I looked at him miserably before my gaze slid over to Ireland. “Do you know where your brother is?”
“Christopher’s schmoozing. Gideon left.” She winced apologetically. “He asked Christopher to take me home with him.”
“Damn it.” I dug in my purse for the burner phone and typed out a quick text: I love you. Tell me you’ll c me 2nite.
I waited for a reply. When it didn’t come after a few minutes, I just held the phone in my hand, willing it to vibrate.
Brett ambled up to me. “We’re done here. Wanna bail?”
“Sure.” I turned to Ireland. “I’m out of town the next two weekends, but let’s get together after that.”
“I’ll keep my schedule open,” she said, hugging me hard.
Turning to Cary, I caught his hand and squeezed it. “Thanks for coming.”
“Are you kidding? I haven’t been this entertained in a long time.” He and Brett did some complicated handshake. “Good job, man. I’m stoked for you.”
“Thanks for coming. We’ll catch you later.”
Brett set his hand at the small of my back and we took off.
17
GIDEON DIDN’T SHOW up at Tableau One.
In a way, I was grateful, because I didn’t want Brett thinking I’d planned the interruption. Outside his long-term hopes for our relationship, Brett was someone who’d been important to me in the past and I wanted to be friends with him, if possible.
But I was preoccupied with imagining what Gideon was thinking and feeling.