“Can I go to his fitting?” I asked. It felt weird asking permission to go somewhere, especially since I was a grown adult. But I knew that she held the keys to my schedule.
“You don’t have time today,” she replied without even glancing at my calendar. “Noah’s movie, The Scientist, is premiering this week and he needs you to hype up his name a little.”
I groaned. I didn't know what she had in store for me, but I knew I wasn’t going to like it. Rhett's hand squeezed my shoulder, and I tried to give him an appreciative smile. “What do I have to do?” I asked.
"How about you two just go upstairs and get showered and dressed for the day. Lola is already set up for hair and makeup." She typed on her phone at a rapid speed.
“And then what do I have to do?” I repeated.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Rhett’s voice whispered into my ear.
Rose waved off my question. "Let's worry about that later. The label also needs to talk to you and the band about a performance they want you to do on live TV… in a week."
“One week?!” I gasped.
“It’s short notice, I know…”
"We can do it, Pipes," Rhett said, remaining much calmer than I was. I looked at him with panicked eyes. “We can do it,” he repeated. “As long as it’s just one song, we can do this. We can be ready.”
There was a knot in the pit of my stomach just thinking about being ready in one week for a live performance with a new band member and new material. We stepped into the elevator, and before the doors could close, we watched as Keith jogged across the tiled floor straight for us. Beau held the door for him, and he slid right in next to us.
“Did you tell them?” Keith asked Rose, trying to catch his breath.
"I was doing that right now," she began. "As I was saying, Monumental—" she gestured toward Keith—"managed to snag a spot for you on Wake Up, America. It'll be an excellent introduction for Rhett.”
"Jay wants you all to come in and go over a few new songs," Keith added. "Practice first, and then maybe we can start getting something recorded. It'll be beneficial if we can get something new out there with Rhett's voice."
“No,” Rhett and I both said at the same time.
“No?” Keith asked, looking dumbfounded.
“We aren’t going to use someone else’s music this time,” I stated.
“Pardon?” Keith cocked an eyebrow at me.
“We’re writing our own stuff.” Rhett’s voice was stern as he spoke up from behind me. I felt his hands on my shoulders in a show of solidarity.
“You’re what?” Keith asked, still not comprehending what we were telling him. Someone obviously hadn’t had his coffee this morning.
“Keith!” I cried, frustrated with his lack of understanding. “We are writing our own music. I’m tired of singing other people’s songs.”
“But—” Rose started.
Rhett quickly interrupted. “That is not in my contract. I made damn well sure.”
"Guys, guys..." I knew instantly that Keith was going to try to placate us. "I can see the desire to write your own music and sing your own songs. But we are on a very cramped timeline. The label wants a new album out as soon as possible. We need to get you into the recording studio… like yesterday. We finally have momentum, and everyone around town is talking about Ever and the band again.”
I glared at him. How dare he imply that I had been uninteresting before all of this. For the past two years, I’ve toured with the same album and fulfilled all of their promotional obligations without complaint. They hadn’t even tried to get the ball rolling on another album until Rhett entered the picture.
I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind. Rhett's hands slipped down from my shoulder to my waist and squeezed, pulling me toward him—and more importantly, away from Keith. I felt his hard chest against my back, calming me, and sighed. I decided to follow his silent instructions. I didn't need to yell at my manager today.
“We wrote two songs just last night,” Rhett informed him.
“Two?” Keith sounded shocked.
"We don't have the music yet, but we have an idea of how it should sound. We need to get with Nixon and Jared, of course."
“Wow.” Keith scratched the back of his head, clearly baffled by this news. “You’ll need about ten more, preferably twelve, in case some don’t get approved.” He looked up at Rhett.
“I think, between the two of us, we have enough material. We just need the time,” Rhett said. I looked back to see him giving Rose the side-eye.
“You know these appointments aren’t my idea, right?” she snapped. “I just book them and make sure that Ever—and now you—make it to where you’re supposed to be on time.”
“You don’t have to do that for me, Rose, ” Rhett argued. “I’ll find an assistant.”
“Well, in the meantime, someone has to handle your schedule,” Rose said with absolutely no enthusiasm.
“You know he was your idea, right?” I reminded her.
She glanced down at his hands still on my hips, and a small sigh escaped her mouth. "Yeah, I do."
The elevator doors finally opened and Keith took off, the phone already attached to his ear. He was undoubtedly reeling over our announcement, but I couldn't tell if he was happy with us or not. However, I was hopeful when I heard him address the one person that I knew would be ecstatic about this. Jay would fight for us, I was confident of that.
"Ever!" I felt Rhett's hands tense, and I peered around Beau to see Noah charging toward us. The skin between his eyes was pinched, his glare focused on me. "Where the hell have you been?" A small part of me knew I should have been concerned with what had made him upset, but I was more excited that he was speaking without an Australian accent. How sad.
“What?” I asked, confused. Noah never wondered where I was.
“Last night? I waited all damn night for you. You know I’m here every goddamned night I can be because you can’t sleep alone.” His tone was cruel and mocking. “I have other things I could be doing. Don’t make me wait around for you.”
“Dude, chill out,” Rhett interrupted. “Don’t talk like that to her.”
Noah shifted his gaze like a lion discovering new prey. His eyes ghosted over Rhett's hands that were still attached to me. "I don't know who the fuck you are, so I'll get back to talking to my girlfriend, yeah?" He reached out and latched onto my forearm. Rhett's grip tightened for a split second right before he let me go, and I was pulled across the hall up against Noah.
I yanked my arm from his clutch, because I was not anyone’s toy to fight over. In my peripheral vision, I noticed Beau’s eyes widening. “I was working last night. I told you that before you left in a rush.”
Noah didn't stay with me every night. When the band moved to the Four Seasons, he kind of moved in too although he still had his place. He was currently filming at the Plaza and over in Sutton Place, so my hotel was centrally located for him.
He was right about one thing, though… I hated sleeping alone. I usually convinced Lola or Rose to stay with me when Noah wasn't around. On the road, people constantly surrounded me, and honestly, I was so rarely alone that it enabled this anxiety I had developed.
“You didn’t—” he started to say before Rose interrupted him.
“Noah! We have more important things to worry about right now than you not getting laid last night.” He frowned at her words and Rhett fake-coughed into his hand.
"I do have some not-so-great news," Rose continued. She looked at me, and I noticed her telltale nervous tic of running her finger across her eyebrow. Rhett was watching her too, now gnawing on the cap of a pen. God only knew where he had gotten that.
“So…” she began. “You still have the Cosmo cover shoot this week.” She smiled brightly like that was supposed to soften the coming blow. “But Vanity Fair has decided to go in a different direction for their December cover.”
"
What do you mean a different direction? We've had this planned for months. I thought there was a contract?" I felt my palms starting to sweat, an annoying side effect when my emotions were ramping up.
“They have a contract with the label... not with you specifically…”
“Spit it out, Rose,” Rhett said through his stupid pen cap. Exactly. Why was she beating around the damn bush?
Vanity Fair was the one cover I had coveted for years. They had the most amazing and sought-after photographers… Annie Leibovitz, Mario Testino, Bruce Weber. I already had this grandiose idea of how Jessica Diehl would style me. We were supposed to shoot in Hawaii. Just the thought of escaping the blistering cold for warm Pacific beaches had me beyond excited.
“You aren’t on the cover anymore,” she mumbled into her notebook.
“WHAT?” I shouted, thankful we were the only ones in the hallway. “How could this happen? I’ve wanted this for years! Years!”
"Relax, babe. It's not that big of a deal. I've done the VF cover twice, and it's not as amazing as you think." I glared at him. Leave it to Noah to toot his own horn while trying to console someone.
“It wasn’t my choice,” Rose said. “No one listens to me.” For a second, I saw genuine remorse in her eyes for my lost opportunity. She knew how much this meant to me. “Can I tell you the next part without you blowing a fuse?”
“Unlikely, but please go on.” I rolled my hand in a flourish.
“Should we move this inside?” I heard Beau ask from a distance. He was already sliding the key card into the suite’s reader.
Rose ignored him. “They want the readers to see more of the guy who not only landed a spot in Ever James’ band, but will sing vocals with her as well.” When I continued to gawk at her, she meekly added, “They want Rhett instead.”
The edges of my vision grew dark, and I had tunnel vision for what I swore was an entire minute—a tunnel where Rhett was at the end. I wanted to run him over in a semi-truck.
Part of me knew it wasn't his fault. He didn't go behind my back and steal the Vanity Fair cover on purpose. But the other part of me—the part that watched more and more of my career get handed over to a guy who weeks ago was singing in the subway—wanted to throttle him.
"What the hell?" Rhett barked. He reached out a hand toward me and I stepped further away. I didn't want him near me.
"Is this a joke?" My face was turning red. I couldn't see it, but I just knew.
Rhett was staring at me with wide eyes. The pen cap was no longer between his teeth.
I stepped further away from everyone. My traitorous eyes were welling up. Yes, I wanted that cover more than I wanted to admit, but this had more to do with the fact that the rug was slowly being pulled out from under my feet. Before I knew it, I was going to be out on my ass while he was on top of the Billboard charts, Grammys in hand, with my band. Everything I had worked so hard for would be stolen from me.
“It’s a good introduction for Rhett…” Rose said, obviously trying to soothe the sting. It didn’t work.
"Introduce him already!" I shouted and pointed at Rhett. "How many fucking introductions does one guy need? If I hear that phrase one more time, I'll scream!"
“Well, I’d like an introduction,” Noah interrupted.
Rose huffed, noticeably irritated. “Rhett, Noah. Noah, Rhett. There.” Neither of them stuck out their hands.
“I still don’t know who the fuck Rhett is.” Noah crossed his arms over his chest.
“Because you don’t ever listen to me,” I said, my voice cracking. “I told you Rhett was replacing Abe as our lead guitarist. And now he’ll replace me on the front cover.”
“I don’t want the cover,” Rhett responded, not giving Noah a chance to admit he really hadn’t been listening when I spoke. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m part of a band. I won’t do it alone.” Rhett shook his head.
I walked straight to Beau, who’d been holding open the door to my suite. Rose called out my name in clear frustration. Rhett called out my name in obvious confusion. Noah followed closely behind me, wanting to know more about Rhett. I ignored them all. I made my way to my bedroom, where I locked myself in and got ready for my day.
I needed to get my head back in the game. I needed to be in the spotlight—the place I’d fought tooth and nail for. The place I would continue to fight for. I wouldn’t allow my career to slip away. I had put in too many years of blood, sweat and tears to just let it be taken away now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was giving her the cold shoulder. Hell, at this point, I was giving everyone the cold shoulder. But this was the first time I had ever given it to Lola.
Her comb teased at my curls, and she spritzed product into the strands. When she was finished, she started on my face. As she massaged thick lotion into my skin, she looked into my eyes. “Ready to explain why you’re freezing me out?”
I met her eyes directly and squared my shoulders. "You've been sleeping with Gage." I caught her eyes dart to the side before she looked at me again. “You know I would be happy for you if you’re happy. Hell, I introduced you two knowing you would have chemistry. But for some reason, you’ve been hiding it from me.”
She shrugged. “It’s nothing. We were just having some fun. That’s hardly deserving of the cold shoulder.”
“You didn’t say anything to me. Hours I’ve sat here listening to you talk about hair, traffic, weather, what you ate for breakfast—hell, even the new bra you bought at La Perla—but you didn’t mention Gage McKenzie? Every day you left telling me you were going to catch a few extra jobs because things were slow around here.”
“Ever, do I always tell you about my conquests?”
"You used to. And he's my friend; I introduced you guys. I figured you would at least let me be in the know. Gage told Alex and Rhett.”
"Of course he did. I'm… memorable." She laughed almost wickedly. "Look, babe, I'm sorry. I really am. I wasn't trying to keep anything from you. We haven't really shared our dating lives much these past couple of months."
“Why is that?” I asked, genuinely curious. We used to share every juicy detail.
“Because I don’t want to hear about Crocodile Dundee’s small penis, or how he uses it against you.”
I sighed. “I really wish you wouldn’t call him that.”
“I really fucking wish he wouldn’t speak in that godawful Australian accent,” she retorted.
I couldn't argue. "God…" I closed my eyes. "It's terrible, isn't it?" A laugh burst through, and I couldn't hold back anymore.
"Ever, I have nightmares." I opened my eyes when Lola shivered audibly, and she laughed along with me. Once our laughter died down, she started applying makeup on my face then looked directly at me again. "A lot is going on. A lot is changing. A lot that you don’t like. Some you do like,” she said, giving me a pointed look with those last words. “But you can’t put me in the enemy’s corner, too. You can’t be mad at all of us.”
“I’m tired of being mad.”
“Then stop,” she stated simply.
"Easier said than done. Everything just keeps happening, and I have no say whatsoever. Lead vocalist of a band—gone! Vanity Fair cover—gone! What's next?"
“You’re still the lead singer. Don’t be so damn dramatic. And who gives a shit about Vanity Fair?”
“We did,” I reminded her. She had been equally excited about the shoot to see how it would be styled.
"Yeah, we were. But you get new opportunities every day. You're a fucking rock star, Ever. You rock a stage, and you look damn hot doing it. That's what you enjoy doing. Forget the rest." She waved her hand in the air.
I thought about her words. Was I being too dramatic? Probably. Okay, yes I was. I was still adjusting to all of the changes, and each time a new punch landed, no one allowed me time to guard myself against the next blow.
But Lola was right. I was a fucking rock star. I needed to
remember the parts of this job that I enjoyed the most. Performing for my fans was what I lived for. And now I could add ‘writing’ to my list of my favorite things.
“I don’t have to pay you for your therapy sessions, do I?” I smiled at her.
“Don’t worry, I always add that in with my other fees.” She winked and began tweezing my eyebrows like the expert she was.
— TWELVE —
Almost a week later, I found myself back in Lola's chair, my phone buzzing in my hand. Rhett was texting again, and I wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer.
How much longer am I in the doghouse?
It’s cold out here.
You’ll have to talk to me soon.
This can’t go on forever.
Nixon, Jared and I have the music all figured out for “No Empathy.”
Just need your voice.
That I knew. Nixon had told me that the three of them were getting together to compose music for the lyrics Rhett and I had written. In the past, our sheet music had been provided by some of the best in the industry. I just had to memorize the lyrics, and the boys had to learn when to play which notes. We’d never really been in the studio for the creation of the music—that was usually taken care of long before we came in contact with it. But it felt wrong not being there to hear what music was being paired with my words. Well, our words.
“Oh, thank you, Rhett. You’re the greatest. How will I ever repay you?” I could almost hear his sarcastic voice in my head.
Funny you should ask, Ever. I have a few things in mind actually.
I had to laugh at his new approach, which apparently was to annoy me with as many texts as necessary before I finally gave in. I wasn't ready quite yet, though.
A few minutes later, he tried once more.
I miss writing with you.
That put a crack in my defense—a crack almost big enough to make me want to reply. I miss writing with you too, I said, but only to myself.
“What are you mumbling about down there?” Lola asked while wrapping my curls around a four hundred degree metal stick. She didn’t need to focus on me; she needed to focus on not burning my ear. Again.
Ever Lonely (Ever James Band Book 1) Page 16