Amanda squeezes my leg, and I can’t tell if she is trying to reassure me or warn me, but the contact serves to remind me that I’m here for a purpose, and it would be best for all involved if I didn’t go off half-cocked, so I give Julian the benefit of the doubt. He looks at his watch—of course, he’s pretentious enough to be wearing a Rolex—and leans forward in his chair. “We have a few more people coming. Let’s give them another five minutes.”
I don’t know why, but I think he deliberately asked whoever else is joining us to arrive late. I think it’s a stalling tactic intended to intimidate me, and it doesn’t work. It just serves to piss me off more. The muscle in my jaw is vibrating like a jackhammer, and I think of things to calm me down.
Unwittingly, Blair, when she stitched up the lion and when the elephant charged us, pops into my head, and as much as I don’t need the reminder of times with her, I think about how she handled herself under pressure and know I should try to handle this situation with even half the grace she did those times. I owe her that much at least.
The conference room door opens and three guys enter. They introduce themselves as Nolan Green, Bentley Roman, and Paul Lester, all of whom are producers for the show. They take their seats opposite us, and Bentley Roman hands out three copies of documents.
Adrienne immediately starts leafing through the documents but stops around the third paragraph in. “My client isn’t signing this.”
Julian leans back and rests his ankle on his knee. He’s wearing those diamond-print socks in a forest green that are as obnoxious as he is. “Why’s that?”
“Because you want him to pay the show three million dollars in damages as well as forgoing his fee for being a judge. It’s ludicrous.”
Paul Lester reaches for a bottle of water and uncaps it but doesn’t take a drink. “If you turn to page sixteen, you’ll see that this is the lost revenue accumulated from the drop in rankings.”
“You can’t be sure that is due to Dean.”
Julian snorts. “We know without a doubt it’s because of Dean. The same thing happened last time, but we let it slide. This time we couldn’t because his antics affected another contestant. Danielle isn’t lying down for this.”
Amanda taps her long manicured nail on the table. “Danielle is a little whiny bitch who doesn’t deserve to be on this show. She should be paying the damages because it’s her tweets that caused all the shit in the first place.”
James lifts his tie and places it back over the buttons of his shirt in a neat line. Regret is etched on his face when he speaks. “I agree Danielle certainly created a bit of a situation for us, but she wouldn’t have had anything to report if Dean hadn’t gone off to South Africa with Blair.”
Amanda swipes her hair out her eyes. “James, we were on a break from the show. What Dean does with his time when we’re on a break is his choice.”
I appreciate everything everyone is doing to stand up for me here, but the truth is I fucked up, and I just want to do what I can to help Blair and get this shitshow over and done with.
I scan the room, pausing to look each of the producers in the eye. “You’re all right. I should never have got involved with Blair in the first place, but none of this was her fault and nothing happened until we went to South Africa. It was all strictly professional.”
“You expect us to believe that?” Julian leans forward and steeples his hands on the polished wood. He flips the folder lying in front of him and produces a bunch of photos. There are quite a few of me hugging Blair the morning she broke down over her grandfather. “These were taken by Danielle before you went to South Africa. She said she walked in on an intimate moment between you and Blair.”
I pick up the stack of photos and leaf through them. You can’t see that Blair is crying, you can just see I’m holding her close to me, my hand pressing her head to my shoulder as I hold her tight. I have my eyes closed, and the conflict is evident on my face. It looks like I’m struggling with a moral decision, which I am, but it also looks like guilt on the photo. The pics of Blair with her fans are in the pile, and there’s even one of Blair holding my hand at takeoff. I’m not sure who took the photo, but it doesn’t matter. All the evidence is there.
“What do you think about Danielle’s accusations that Blair received preferential treatment? I mean, it’s clear she did. I’m sure she got all you could offer. I doubt she complained though, right, Dean?” Julian’s smirk is begging to be wiped off his face, but miraculously, I remain still.
“Danielle got exactly the same treatment as Blair.”
“Yeah? You’re fucking them both?” He leans back. “Nice—I didn’t figure you for the ménage type, but well done.” He claps his hands, and I want to reach across the table and punch him in the fucking face for talking about Blair that way. But I place my hands on my lap and ball them into fists. My nails dig into my palm, and I concentrate on the pain to avoid doing anything stupid.
“That’s enough, Julian.” James scowls at his coworker, and Julian leers back.
“Danielle has never been game-on. She wants the fame and the accolades, but she isn’t dedicated. Blair was different. She always showed up early and left late. She always put in a lot more effort.”
“Yeah, I bet she did.”
Amanda stands up, her chair shooting out behind her, and presses her hands on the table. “I’ve been in rehearsals with both Blair and Danielle. Danielle is spoiled and entitled and does absolutely the bare minimum. Blair gives 200 percent every single time. She isn’t arriving early and leaving later because of something sordid. Often, I’ve been there late and Blair has been there on her own, but you know all this. You know Blair puts her heart and soul into this. You’ve probably watched the camera footage and seen all this for yourself.”
“You’re going after the wrong girl here,” Adrienne chips in. “Danielle is the one who is hurting your show. Every piece of evidence or footage you have is Blair being nothing but professional. The same can’t be said for Danielle. You have no proof that when Dean was in South Africa, anything untoward happened. All you stipulate in your contract is that Dean cannot have a relationship with his contestants. Where is your proof that he did?”
Julian sits back in his chair. “You’re right, Miss Summers, you are 100 percent correct that we have no proof aside from the photos of Dean hugging Blair. Those are enough.”
“Her grandfather was in ICU. She was upset. I’m not an asshole—of course I’m going to comfort her.” My voice is starting to rise, so I take another sip of coffee to stop myself from saying something I’ll regret.
Until this point, Nolan has sat silently, offering nothing more than nods. “You don’t think this was all a ploy by Miss McKenzie to seduce you?”
I take a deep breath and count in twos to six hundred.
“You think Blair used her grandfather’s injury to seduce me so she could get preferential treatment and win the show?” The words come out soft and menacing, and Amanda once more presses her hand to my leg in silent warning.
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”
“This meeting is over.” Adrienne gathers her papers into a pile and stands. Amanda follows.
“No, wait. I wanna make a deal.” What I want to do is break this fucker’s face, but if I can just get through the next five minutes, I can go to the gym and pound the shit out of the punching bag.
“You are hardly in a position to make a deal, Dean,” Julian says.
“Let him speak.” James takes a sip of his coffee.
“I’ll pay the money and forgo my fee for the show if you let Blair continue as a contestant. At least give her the chance to prove herself.”
“No, absolutely not.”
A phone beeps and James reaches into his pocket to retrieve it. “You don’t get to make unilateral decisions, Julian. We all vote.”
The look Julian shoots James fills me with great satisfaction because it’s clear the guy feels duped. James is
too busy typing out a text to notice. He hits Send and places his phone back in the breast pocket of his suit. “Right, shall we vote?”
I find it ironic that they’re voting in order to see if Blair can be voted for. I’m also exhausted, so my sense of humor isn’t what it should be.
“Who votes for Blair being fired from the show?” Julian and Nolan raise their hands. “Right. And who votes that she gets to stay?” The look on Julian’s face tells me I’ve won long before James, Paul, and Bentley raise their hands.
“I hope she’s worth it, Dean,” Amanda states.
She is, but I’ll never get the benefit of it. She doesn’t want to speak to me again.
25
Blair
“I’m going to miss you.” Maddie sits on the edge of my bed, the front of her pink pumps dangling from her toes as she bobs her leg up and down.
“I’m going to miss you too.” I really am—I’m going to miss everybody. I’m heading back to the lions’ den, and I can’t fight back the tiny tumbleweeds of fear coiling in my belly.
It’s been a week since Dean left, and now the show has decided I can continue as a contestant. Packing to leave, I fold a mint-green top and place it neatly in the suitcase. This is so different from the last time I was packing to go to the show. I couldn’t wait and had such high hopes.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with? I can come kick some ass for you?”
I laugh. “Whose ass are you going to kick exactly? Dean’s or all the haters?”
“I’ll start with Dean and make my way through the rest.”
“Dean didn’t force me into anything. You were right, and I should’ve listened.” I turn and reach for some underwear in the drawer so Maddie doesn’t see the tears well in my eyes. It’s been a rough week with Dean leaving and everyone on social media being out for blood. Danielle is being painted as a hard-done-by victim and me, a goal-grabbing hussy who will stop at nothing to win the show, including sleeping with my coach.
“Dean hasn’t done a damn thing to defend you, Blair. Where is he now that the shit has hit the fan? Why hasn’t he called to see how you’re doing?”
“Because I told him not to, Mads.” I just wanted to get back to the show and try to move on.
Kade called last night to tell me that the show was giving me another chance and he was going to be my coach. To be honest, I was surprised they didn’t put me on Amanda or Chantelle’s team since if I’m known for sleeping my way to the top, you’d think the executives would assume Kade would be my next target. Maybe Kade just isn’t that kind of guy, or maybe they figured the new contract we all had to sign would prevent me from doing that. Either way, the fact they allowed me back was a huge surprise. I’m trying my best to heed Papaw’s advice and to make the most of my second chance, but it’s hard to focus when all I can think about was how much Dean betrayed me.
How could I be so stupid?
“Can we talk about something else?” I dump a handful of panties in my suitcase and turn to get my makeup off the dresser.
Maddie fishes a hot-pink thong I must’ve grabbed by accident out of my suitcase. “Now this is how it’s done. High five, girl, throwing yourself back out there to get over Dean. That’s the best way.”
I snatch the thong from her hand and shove it back in my drawer. “I’m not throwing myself back out there.”
“It’s a damn shame about the contract, otherwise you and Kade could be explosive. That lip ring has to feel good against—”
“Mads, as much as I’d love to hear about your fantasies, I have to face the judges, and I’m embarrassed enough without adding this visual to the mix.”
Maddie waggles her eyebrows. “Kade doesn’t feature in my fantasies. Keller on the other hand…damn, can you just imagine what those fingers can do? I mean, look how well he twirls those sticks.”
I groan and zip up my suitcase. I don’t want to think about Kade or Keller, his drummer, for that matter.
“Don’t groan at me. Think about it. Kade has that quiet intensity that has to come out somewhere. He needs an outlet—you could be that outlet. After the show of course.”
A knock on the door interrupts me before I can embarrass myself by bursting into tears. I don’t want to think about being with anyone but Dean, and that isn’t in our cards. I don’t want Kade; I never have. I want what I can’t have. What the betrayal is telling me I shouldn’t want. I want Dean. The worst is, I thought I was special. But to Dean, I was just another warm body. I hate so much that Maddie was right about that.
I hear Maddie’s disapproving tone as she opens the door. “Should you be up?”
I know she’s talking to Papaw, and no, he shouldn’t be up. He’s only been out of hospital for a week and is still supposed to be taking it easy.
“Now don’t you start nagging me too, Madison.”
“Nagging is the official love language, don’t you know?”
“Yeah, if that’s true, I think my wife invented it.”
I turn and smile at Papaw. “I’m telling her you said that.”
His affectionate smile makes my insides hurt. I want love like my papaw has for Grams. The type that’s unconditional and everlasting.
“In that case, you two wanna take an old man on a game drive before he meets his end?”
We laugh at his joke, and I grab a jacket. “Who am I to deny you your last wish?” I wink at him, and he pulls me in for a tight hug.
“C’mon, Bubbles. We don’t have much time till you have to leave.”
26
Dean
“Fuck, Kade, I thought you said this was a bowling alley. It looks more like a place where crackheads come for their fix.” I glance around the parking lot dotted with a handful of cars. A flickering streetlight seems a bit cliché, but it certainly adds to the desolate appearance of the cracked paving. I appreciate what Kade’s trying to do, but after Thursday’s meeting with the execs, hanging someplace seedy isn’t on the top of my to-do list.
“You let Gail hear you talk like that and she’ll have your balls bronzed and used as a last-call bell.”
I don’t respond as Kade pushes open the door with a flourish and steps aside for me to enter.
What I see inside makes me blink a few times. I was expecting dark and dingy with sticky floors and luminous accents on black walls, but we step into the classiest bowling alley I’ve ever seen. The lanes are polished to a gleam with shiny bronze lining and lights down the sides. Oxblood leather booths (and not the cheap shit either) are placed at intervals to allow you a cozy feeling of being part of a crowd but with enough privacy. Along the right-hand wall is the shoe counter and to the left, a small stage.
“Kade Tennick, how the hell did you sneak in here?” A woman in her mid-fifties walks over to us, her arms outstretched as she envelops Kade in a giant hug. He moves in closer, and his arms wrap around the woman’s frame and he holds on tight.
“Gail, damn, it’s so good to see you.”
She takes a step back, holding Kade’s hands as she looks him over. “You’ve filled out some.”
“You trying to say I’m getting fat, Gail?”
She swats his arm. “As if.” Her voice softens. “You look good.”
“So do you. I like the new hairstyle.”
Her fingers fly to her gray shoulder-length bob. “Now, you know flattery won’t get you anywhere.” She winks at Kade and turns to me. I’ve been a spectator to their greeting until now, which is fine by me. I’m not much in the chatty mood. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been rude. Gail Waverly. I’m the owner of All Pins Down.”
“Dean Carter.”
“Welcome, Dean. Can I get you two a drink?” Gail walks over to the bar big enough for a nightclub, and we follow. “What’ll it be?”
“I’ll have a beer.”
“Make that two.” Kade reaches for his wallet.
Gail cocks an eyebrow. “Since when did you start paying for your dr
inks?”
Kade chuckles. “I always paid for my drinks.”
She snorts. “You used to run up a tab and say you’d catch me later and eventually my accountant made me write it off.”
“Yeah, but you made good money off us. C’mon now, tell the truth.” Kade beams at Gail and starts picking at the label on his bottle.
Gail looks at me and winks. “Can’t say that’s not true. Girls would throw the cover charge at me before stampeding to get a look at this one move on stage.”
I look at Kade. “You used to play here?”
“Every Friday and Saturday night. This is where we got our big break.” The smile on Kade’s face is grateful and maybe a little shy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the guy smile without his signature smirk before.
“Sure did.” Gail beams proudly, then ducks under the bar. “I’ve got proof too.”
Kade groans. “Not this again.”
She slams a heavy worn-out-looking photo album on the bar and opens exactly to the page she wants as if she does this regularly. “What? You should be proud.”
“I thought we’d been over this. You’ve been good about it for the last couple years.”
“Yeah, well, consider it punishment for you not coming to see me the last six months.”
Kade shakes his head, resigned, and takes a sip of his beer.
I lean over and take in the photo of a younger Kade. Gail’s right: he has filled out.
Kade flips the page but not before I notice his arm around a pretty brunette. Gail chews on the inside of her lip, and I wonder what’s going on.
His jaw ticks ever so slightly, and he takes a long swig of his beer. “Can we get a round of tequila? Hold the lemon and salt.”
Gail places a hand on Kade’s. “Did you hear she’s coming home?”
“Why would I have heard that? You know it’s been years.”
“I know. I just thought you might have heard something.”
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