Toad

by Cambria Hebert

  “I have classes Monday. Spring break starts Thursday, though. Think we can book it then?”

  “That’s not how this works, man. At least not until you are so in demand you can make your own demands,” Ten said. “You gotta show up on their time.”

  I knew that. I did. It was the reason I missed classes at the end of last semester when we were working on Ten’s new album, Butterfly.

  If he was pissed about it then… this is going to be worse. The thought taunted the back of my mind, momentarily rendering me speechless.

  “Nate,” Ten called me back to the present.

  “Yeah,” I said. “So what did Becca tell them?”

  “She booked the meeting. And she’s making a bunch of noise about commission for acting like your manager. I’m telling you, man. You don’t want to deal with her. You might want to get someone to handle these calls.”

  I mock shuddered. “Becca the barracuda. Hiring someone might be a good call.”

  “Look, my plane is already in the air for you. Fly out tonight, and we can prep this weekend.”

  “You’re sending your plane?”

  “Like I’d let my cousin and my girl fly commercial.” He scoffed.

  “Violet?” I asked, glancing around as though I expected her to just appear.

  “I haven’t seen her in almost a week,” he intoned. “Too long. Pick her up on the way to the airstrip, okay? She knows to be ready.”

  I hesitated just a fraction of a second.

  “Is he going to be that pissed?” Ten’s low voice filled my ear.

  I felt my shoulders sag. “I’m not sure,” I replied.

  “You want me to have Becca call back and cancel?”

  “No!” My answer was swift. “I’ll be there.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “You better have extra Fruity Pebbles when I get there. Flying makes me hungry.”

  Ten laughed. “Already sent my assistant out.”

  Dude had an assistant to get his cereal. Lame.

  “This is a really great opportunity, Nate.” His voice no longer held laughter, but was more subdued.

  “Yeah,” I said solemnly. “I know.”

  “Call if you need backup.”

  “Thanks.”

  I disconnected the call and pocketed my phone.

  Remember how I said not everyone wanted a seat on the Nate Train? Specifically, I meant my dad.

  He definitely didn’t want a seat, especially if it was heading to L.A.

  Aerie

  The second the little ding of the fancy elevator filled the space, I began moving, the doors just barely opening in time for me to stride out.

  I was a woman on a mission.

  Tucking the newest tabloid under my arm, I marched with my head high through the wide reception area, the sound of my high-heeled boots reverberating confidence around me. The receptionist looked up, her eyes widening just slightly. Instantly, she clicked the little button on the Bluetooth set against her ear and began to speak rapidly.

  Warning them, I was sure.

  She stood as I drew closer, a fake smile plastered on her face. She didn’t like me. But it wouldn’t stop her from kissing my ass.

  How two-faced.

  Her lips parted, but I held up my hand, silencing whatever she was about to say. The men flanking me, walking just a fraction behind, kept with my pace, knowing I wasn’t going to stop.

  I didn’t have an appointment. I didn’t care.

  Turning the corner, I marched right up to the double oak doors. One of the men behind, stepped deftly around me and pulled back the door, allowing me to stride ahead into the room.

  Walter looked up from behind his desk. He wasn’t surprised. Proof that he was indeed warned about my arrival. Or maybe he just knew this visit was inevitable.

  “What is taking so long?” I asked, dropping some of the superiority I wore like a winter coat.

  Sitting back in his oversized leather chair, he took off the bifocals perched on his nose, tossed them aside, and sighed. “I can assure you this firm is doing everything in our power to get your marriage annulled as soon as possible.”

  “Maybe the power this firm once had is losing its foothold,” I snapped.

  He glanced up, partly surprised by my words. There was a spark of offended anger in the depths of his eyes, and I instantly felt contrite. I didn’t show it, though. The second I showed any kind of weakness, he would seize the chance to feed me a line of bull, which I would then pretend to swallow because I felt bad about hurting his ego.

  Men and their egos.

  It was utterly exhausting. And insulting. If a man needed his ego stroked so much and so often, then he wasn’t a very good man.

  In my humble opinion, of course.

  Instead of apologizing, I unfolded the tabloid from beneath my arm and placed it on the desk right in front of him. Then I lowered onto one of the leather club chairs across from him. “This doesn’t look like you’re any closer to getting me out of that sham of a marriage than you were the last time I was here.”

  “You mean the time you had an appointment?” he quipped.

  “I wouldn’t have to barge in like this if I was getting results,” I retorted and pointed at the cover of the rag. “Just look at that!”

  Secret marriage leads to huge acquisition for Solberg Records!

  Walter glanced down at the obtrusive headline and sighed. “Will is doing everything possible to delay or even stop the annulment altogether.”

  “I warned you he would. It was quite obvious the morning I woke up…”—I paused, choosing my words carefully— “married, he wasn’t regretful.”

  “As you said. But you, on the other hand, you were.” Lawyers had an uncanny ability to state the obvious.

  “I wouldn’t be sitting here otherwise.”

  “You haven’t quite said why, Ms. Boone. Why is it you want an annulment so desperately?”

  I felt as though my eyes could fall right out of my face. Was he serious? “I did tell you. Quite adamantly. I must have been highly intoxicated when we eloped. I don’t even remember what crappy Vegas chapel we did it in. I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m not ready for marriage.” Especially to Will.

  “Mr. Solberg claims you were of sound mind and, though you were both imbibing champagne, there was equal consent to the marriage.”

  My shoulder blades drew together, tension coiling in my upper body. “Will is lying.”

  Walter leaned forward, placing his forearms over the magazine and regarded me seriously. “You have been publicly dating Will Solberg for nearly a year.”

  My stomach dipped. It wasn’t the excited kind of dip either. It was the kind that made me feel I was going to throw up. “What are you saying, Walter?”

  “His legal team is claiming there are no grounds for an annulment. They say they can provide witness testimony that you agreed to the marriage and that you two had discussed the union in the past, during the time you were dating.”

  I sat back in my chair as though his words were a strong gust of wind I had no chance of withstanding. But the second my body gave in and slumped, I recovered and shot out of the chair. Hands on my hips, I regarded my lawyer. “He’s lying. I did not consent, and I want out.”

  “Can you prove you weren’t in the right mind to agree?”

  I faltered. “My word isn’t good enough?”

  “Perhaps if you were less high profile. Perhaps if you had married some backup dancer without the limitless resources that come with Solberg Records. But Will is pushing—hard. We’re pushing back, but it’s not as cut and dry as you want it to be.”

  “What’s the point of being a famous country singer with a lot of money if I can’t use it to untangle myself from a mess?” I muttered, dropping back into the chair.

  “I’m afraid that in times like these, your status only makes it messier,” Walter said, his voice gentle.

  I wanted to cry. I would later, but not right now. “What are my opt
ions?”

  “We could drop the petition for annulment and start proceedings for a divorce.”

  My breath caught. “If we do that, Will can call himself my ex-husband. Our marriage will be considered legal.”

  “Yes, and I have to warn you he could make a claim against some of your assets.”

  My insides turned frigid, despite the anger boiling in my veins. He would do it. Not because he needed anything I had, but just because he could. An annulment would nullify our quick “marriage.” It would erase it, as if it never even happened. He could have no claim to me.

  Not ever again.

  “I can’t do that,” I whispered. “I want an annulment. It’s my right.”

  He nodded once. “I thought you would say that.”

  I leaned in, my eyes intent on his. “I didn’t want this marriage, Walter.”

  He didn’t offer any sympathy. Did lawyers ever? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was it would be nice to feel like he was on my side. That anyone was on my side.

  “That article…” My lawyer pointed at his desk. “All the headlines about this, it’s his way of trying to sway public opinion. Trying to put together a visible case for the hearing.”

  “Is there a date for the hearing yet?” I asked. The sooner the better.

  “No. He’s delaying, trying to get the notion of an annulment dismissed.”

  I swallowed. “And if he’s successful?”

  “The divorce could take six months to a year to push through.”

  The words were like bullets, each penetrating my body one and a time. “That’s completely unacceptable!” I exclaimed and stood, beginning to pace.

  “Forgive me for the personal question, miss,” Walter said, clearing his throat. “Have you and Mr. Solberg consummated the marriage?”

  “No!” I said, then backtracked. “Well, I’m not sure.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “I don’t follow.”

  “We haven’t since I woke up that morning.” I gazed down at my ring finger, which was empty now. The memory of that wedding band wrapped around my finger like a shackle haunted me. “But the night of the marriage… we could have.” I lowered my gaze to the floor. “I don’t remember.”

  Walter’s eyes narrowed solicitously. “Miss Boone, is there a chance that William Solberg raped you?”

  I sucked in a breath, and the action created an empty whistling sound between my lips. I was ashamed. Embarrassed. Utterly mortified. “Possibly.”

  “But all previous relations before that night were consensual?”

  Why did it sound like he was making it my fault? Why did everything always feel like it was my fault?

  “I didn’t realize that mattered,” I stated.

  “Unfortunately, it does. Especially in court. Especially since you can’t remember. Especially since one of the stipulations for annulment is failure to consummate.”

  I remembered waking up that morning. No panties. Dress around my waist and one of my girls out to party. Wasn’t it pretty obvious we’d had sex?

  “I’ll push for a hearing to be set. We can let the judge determine if the annulment is valid. But, Aerie, it would be very helpful if you could remember what happened that night. Or find someone who can corroborate that you were too intoxicated to agree to marriage.”

  I nodded. Glancing down at the paper on his desk, I met his eyes. “Please, Walter. Please do everything you can to get me out of this.”

  I hoped he understood the plea in my words.

  “I can assure you my entire staff is working on this. We’ll get it resolved.”

  I left his room using the same stride and confidence I entered with. I felt as if my world were crumbling. Everything and everyone was against me. I wanted to go back to my place, scrub off this mask of makeup, and succumb to the tears.

  I couldn’t.

  Not yet anyway. I had one more place to be. One more attempt to make.

  I was definitely a woman on a mission.

  But inside, this woman was exhausted and about to break.

  Nate

  The distinct sound of the zipper of my duffle filled the bedroom as I finished packing, but it silenced abruptly. I darted into the hall bathroom to quickly jam my toothbrush and a few other necessary items into a small pouch. Once back in the bedroom, I stuffed it into the duffle and finished zipping it closed.

  That was a close call. I almost sentenced myself to dragon breath while I was in L.A.

  Not exactly the kind of impression I wanted to make when meeting with freaking Solberg Records. As if my career as a songwriter wasn’t already off to an awesome start, now I had the opportunity to work with the second-largest recording company in music.

  ‘Course, ah, I thought as I literally patted myself on the shoulder, it’s sort of a step down considering my first job was with Ten’s album, which is with the number-one recording company.

  I snorted and grabbed up the duffle. The door leading out into the garage from the kitchen opened and closed, my stomach knotted, and all sarcastic thoughts drained from my mind. With the bag slung over my shoulder, I went in search of the sound, finding my dad standing in front of the kitchen table as he sorted through the mail, car keys still hanging from one of his fingers.

  He glanced up quickly when I moved into the room, back down at the mail, then back up at me once more. His stare zeroed in on the duffle, and his mouth drew into a thin line.

  “Hey, Dad,” I said, dumping the bag rather loudly on the floor behind me. There was no point in pretending it wasn’t there. “How was work?”

  “Spring break doesn’t start ‘til next week,” he said, still shuffling through the mail.

  “It’s the weekend.”

  All the envelopes were abandoned to the table, his keys joining them. “Seems like an awful big bag for just a weekend trip.”

  “I got another opportunity…” I began.

  Dad made a sound and shook his head. “What’s he need this time?”

  I drew a momentary blank, then felt my brow furrow. “Are you taking about Ten?”

  Dad paced across the room and began putting on a pot of coffee. We didn’t have one of those fancy machines that used those little pods. Dad thought they were frivolous. He was so old-school. We had a coffee pot that had most likely been my grandma’s.

  “Ever since he stayed here last semester, he’s depended on you a lot.”

  I felt my eyes sharpen on his back. I was hearing a lot of words he wasn’t saying. “We’re family. We drifted apart, but it’s good to have him back. You know we were more like brothers growing up.” He was like a son to you.

  He cleared his throat and turned as the coffee started to brew. The rich scent filled the small kitchen, and I inhaled. “He’s changed a lot since you guys were kids.”

  I considered his words instead of retorting a quick denial. “Yeah. I guess he has. I think fame would do that to anyone. He’s still a good guy, Dad.”

  He measured me for a long moment, then relented. “Yes, he seems to have gotten his head on straight again. I think you had a lot to do with that.”

  “And you. And Violet,” I added. After a heartbeat, I said, “And he doesn’t depend on me, not in the way you mean. But it’s nice to have people in your life you can trust.”

  “Ten get you this new opportunity?”

  My hackles rose. What the fuck was his problem? He was acting like I was fourteen and trying to watch porn on some channel that we didn’t get and came in fuzzy. I admit I used to turn on that channel and hope for a boob shot. Sometimes I got lucky.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I asked, “You saying you don’t think I have enough talent or ambition to get my own opportunities?”

  “Of course not, Nate,” he grumbled.

  “Sure as hell sounds like it.”

  He glanced up. “So who called you about this?”

  “Don’t you even want to know what this is?” I challenged.

  He nodded. “What is it?”

 
“Solberg Records—you know, the second-biggest music producer in the business—wants me to write an original song for Aerie Boone.”

  His brow furrowed a second, then smoothed out. “The country singer?”

  “The most famous country singer. She’s practically Ten with boobs.”

  Dad smirked, then turned around to pour some coffee. “I can’t say that’s a ringing endorsement. She’s been in the media a lot, just like my nephew.”

  “And what did we learn from that? The media lies.”

  Dad turned, mug poised at his lips. “Actually, I’m pretty certain the stuff they said about Ten was accurate.”

  “Some of it.” Then I flung out my hands. “Who freaking cares? I’m writing a song for her, not marrying her!”

  “Pretty sure she’s already married, to a Solberg,” he quipped, sipping his coffee. It reminded me of that meme with Kermit the frog making observations that were “none of his business.”

  “Which means they want the best for her, and they called me.” I puffed out my chest. “If I do this and the song is as huge as I know it can be, my entire career will be set.”

  “She’s a bad influence.”

  I laughed.

  “So what? You’re going to just give up on the last couple years you’ve been working toward your degree?” He shook his head. “You can’t just go to L.A. on a whim, son. It’s a fickle business. They’ll eat you up and spit you out just like they did Ten.”

  I didn’t get pissed off very often. I was a chill guy. But I did have red hair.

  That meant I wasn’t completely free of a temper. I had buttons. And right now, dear ol’ dad was pushing them like a game of Whack-A-Mole.

  “I’m not going out there on a whim,” I snapped, holding on to the anger. It stung, actually. It stung he really thought so low of me. I almost felt betrayed. “I got a job opportunity. One that could make me a lot of money. One that could pay for the rest the degree you’re so intent on me earning.”

  “Your tuition is free, Nate. You know that.”

  “Because my dad works for the college. You want me to depend on you forever? I gotta be my own man.”

  “By dropping out of college and running off to L.A.? That’s not a very manly choice.”