Poppy grins like it hurts. “That’s correct. I didn’t realize you knew anything about fashion. Who are you wearing tonight?”
She expects me to cower and admit that my dress came from Nordstrom Rack or was on clearance at Neimans. Nothing wrong with that, but I know Haze better than that. First off, her parents didn’t cut her off for going her own way and where I struggle with paying my bills on my meager writer’s wages, she does not. She’s just not an asshole about it. And second, she knows me, and being fake to impress a certain demographic is just not my style.
“My stylist found it for me at a boutique here in the city and I’m so glad she did,” I reply, smoothing the dress over my ample hips. “I’m all about supporting local artists and designers.”
“I dig that,” Riot nods in my direction. “Gotta support all forms of artistry. That’s dope.”
“Well…uh,” Poppy stammers. “It’s super cute on you. Maybe I could get your stylist’s number and find out where I should be shopping here in Seattle? I’ve got tons of connections in fashion. Maybe they’re looking for fresh ideas.”
“I’ll pass on the message. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.” My tone is as sickeningly sweet as hers. Little does she know, I studied at the school of Petty and majored in Shade.
Riot looks on like he’s witnessing a tennis match, amused, maybe a little turned on by it all. Typical. Yeah, this is about him, but also, it’s not. This is about Poppy and women like Poppy putting down women like me, yet screaming, “Girl, power!” in the next breath. This is about worshipping at the altar of Taylor Swift in the name of female empowerment but working to ensure that other females around her don’t succeed beyond her. She is a feminist of convenience and opportunity. In so many ways, people like Poppy are more dangerous for women than predatory men are.
A tap of a fork against a champagne flute breaks the tension and serves as the dinner bell. Chef Dani lets us know that we can head into the formal dining room while two hired servers lead the way. I’d only glimpsed the room before, and it didn’t look like this. The table looks as if it was cut from a slab of petrified wood that has been finished and polished to a shine that almost looks like marble. Natural earth tones and metallics compliment the rest of the apartment’s decor along with a contemporary chandelier that is half art installation, half light source.
Chef Dani has prepared a special meal for tonight at the request of Poppy, although it was Jonas who put the bug in her ear. The objective: woo a couple TV execs and get back in their good graces. Everyone knows that a music artist makes their money from touring. But considering that Riot most likely isn’t planning to go back on the road again until his mom is well, it would make sense for him to take on some other projects for cash flow between recording. I just hope he’s not willing to sell his soul for a check.
“Your assigned seat is labeled with a place card. Oh, Roxy. Since we weren’t expecting you initially, I didn’t have one prepared for you.”
I survey the situation. There are eight of us, yet only seven places were set, even though the long table can seat that many and more. This was deliberate since she knew I would be attending over half an hour ago. Still, I keep my composure and don a polite smile.
“She can take my seat,” Kaz pipes up. He had been chatting up someone from the network when I entered the living room, and although I caught his eye, I’m glad he didn’t miss his chance to network. And I definitely won’t allow him to let an opportunity pass now.
“No, that’s fine. I can’t let you do that.”
Kaz begins to counter, but before he can, Riot pulls out the chair stationed at the head of the table—the chair reserved for him.
“Rox, this one’s for you.”
“Honestly, I’m fine. I’ll just…”
“Sit. This is yours.”
Poppy sits at the other end, fuming, yet she keeps it together to play perfect hostess. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m sure Roxy can manage.” She not so discreetly cuts her eyes from Riot to the network exec to his right.
“J, scoot over,” Riot instructs his manager, seated at his left, and ignores Poppy. He grabs an extra chair positioned against the wall. Odd. It’s almost like someone removed it at the last minute.
A server rushes over and sets a place setting for Riot in record time, apologizing for the misunderstanding. He shakes his head, ensuring him that it’s not his fault. He thanks the server for helping him out. Riot is kind to him although I’m sure there are people at this table who would look down their noses at this young man’s profession. Growing up in Redmond, I’ve run across my fair share of snooty elitists that think their shit doesn’t stink because they have a few extra zeros on their bank statement. And knowing that Riot has remained humble even after all these years means a lot. If I wasn’t already conflicted over my feelings for him, that surely would have made me think twice about icing him out.
Chef Dani and her two servers come out with the first course, and she explains the inspiration for tonight’s meal: elevated Mexican street food. When she sets my plate down, she gives me a wink.
“Not a breakfast burrito,” she whispers. “But I hope you enjoy it.”
“I’m sure I will. Thank you.”
We dig into our charred octopus with pickled veggies atop a smear of mole sauce, and while the conversation is casual, I can’t escape Poppy’s venomous glare. And there are only so many comments about the wine and freshness of the octopus I can make before I look like a blubbering idiot. So when Jonas turns and snidely asks how my story is going, I’m grateful for the distraction, even if he looks like a sniveling weasel that wants to pimp out Riot. However, he gets points for saving DeDe and protecting Riot’s secret.
“It’s going well,” I answer, giving nothing away.
“Rox is a writer for The Seattle Tea,” Riot elaborates beside me, speaking to the network guy on my right. “She’s the lead writer for the music column and has covered some of the best artists in the city.”
“Is that right?” the suit says, before turning to me. He’s disinterested but polite. “Alec Brightwell, E! Network.”
I nod. “Nice to meet you, Alec.”
“Rox is also an incredible songwriter,” Riot continues. “She’s even agreed to do some writing for me for the album.”
For the second time to tonight, all conversation ceases and every eye is on me. My face red hot, I resist the urge to kick Riot under the table.
“She’s what?” Jonas scoffs.
“Rox and I are going to write and perform a song,” Riot announces to the table. He then turns his dreamy gaze to me, almost beaming. “I’d been searching for inspiration. I found her.”
“Riot, baby, uh,” Poppy stammers. “Don’t you think that’s a little presumptuous? Roxy has a story to write. She’s probably really busy and anxious to get back to her life. And you’re Riot Blu; you can’t just work with an amateur because she’s your old friend from high school. No offense.”
At that, I pin my glare on Poppy, who can no doubt read the boldness in my squared shoulders and tipped chin. “None taken. And yes, I am very busy, and I do have a story to write. But what is better than chronicling Riot’s creative process, capturing his genius, and showing what a dope artist he is without the distractions of manufactured drama? His true fans will appreciate that he’s focusing more of his energy on his craft and not whoring himself out for likes on social media. So yes, I may be an amateur songwriter and singer, but Riot isn’t. Maybe you should have a little more faith in him and his artistry.”
It’s so damn quiet; you can’t even hear the scrape of a fork tine on porcelain. Just when I’m convinced I’ve completely blown any opportunity of Riot had of getting in good with these E! big wigs and made myself out to be a total ass, Alec slaps his hand onto the table, rattling the dishes and scaring the shit out of me.
“Now that’s the kind of passion we’re looking for over at E! Jonas, you were right. You and I are gonna talk.” Then Alec turns to me,
ideas churning behind his wild, excited gaze. “A woman of your many accomplishments surely is ready to break out of local entertainment news. Ever thought of dipping your toe into a bigger pond?”
I don’t have to look over to see that Poppy’s eyes are nearly bulging from her skull. Just like I don’t have to peer over at Riot to know he’s staring at me with awe and pride.
“Actually, I have. Just waiting on the right opportunity to come along.”
Alec nods, a sly smile on his face. This night just got a lot more interesting.
WE MAKE IT THROUGH FOUR more courses without Poppy wielding a salad fork at my head, so even if Alec Brightwell and I hadn’t exchanged business cards with a promise to meet while he’s in town, I’d call the evening a success. However, it’s not over yet.
“Let’s go out,” Poppy suggests. She’s half drunk and pissed. I’m the last person she wants to be stuck here with.
“Great idea! I’ve been dying to see Seattle,” one of the network guys agrees. He’s the youngest of the three and has been eyeing Kaz all night from across the table. My guess is he’s been waiting to get to know him on a much more personal level.
“Perfect! I know just the place. I’ll get us a table…” Poppy picks up her cell and scrolls to get the group set up with VIP. I could bet my left tit that the offer doesn’t include me.
“I think I’m going to turn in,” I mutter before Poppy finds a reason to exclude me again.
“What?” Riot frowns. “Why?”
I shrug yet my eyes dart to the other side of the table. “Probably should get some work done. It’s been a crazy long day, not to mention, I didn’t sleep that well last night.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll stay in too.”
“What?”
“What?!” I didn’t realize Poppy had spidey senses and could hear our entire exchange. “You can’t stay in.”
Riot shoots her a cold glare that makes the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. It’s enough to make Poppy take a breath and plaster a fake smile on her face.
“I mean, I’m sure Alec and his friends would love to have you host them at your favorite club.” She diverts her glassy eyed gaze. “Did you know Riot grew up here?”
“I grew up in Redmond,” he corrects. “It’s nothing like Seattle. And I don’t have any favorite clubs yet. This isn’t my city. It’s Rox’s.”
Every head turns to me expectantly, as if I’ve just been appointed nightlife ambassador. That title is already taken, and lucky for me, I happen to be best friends with the woman who holds it.
“Come on, Rox. I’m not going if you don’t go,” Riot coos, his voice taking on that velvety tone. Back in the day, it was normal for musicians to recite entire monologues in the middle of love songs to convey their feelings when singing just wouldn’t cut it. I never really appreciated it until now. Riot has a voice that could talk a nun out of her panties.
I release a sigh. “Ok, fine. But only if I can pick the place.”
Looks like Phase Two of my plan is kicking off sooner than expected.
It’s getting late and I only have a few minutes to text Haze and get everything set up. A quick fluff of my hair and a swath of lipstick, and I’m ready to head down with the rest of the group to pile into dark SUVs. Tonight, security will be with us, although it won’t be that type of scene. This is going to be really good, or blow up in my face. Either way, Poppy has made it clear she’s not happy about it.
“I can’t believe we’re passing up VIP at the hottest spot in town for…whatever this is,” Poppy grumbles as we near the location.
Because the universe loves me, I got stuck in the SUV with Kaz, Riot and, of course, Poppy. To describe the experience as awkward would be an understatement. Thank God the place is only on 1st. There’s only so much slurring and whining I can take before I feed Poppy to the seagulls.
“Here we are,” I announce, eager to make a break for it. However, the dark SUVs draw quite a few questioning glances from people on the street. And only seconds tick by before I see the flash of cameras through the dark tinted windows.
Security makes a tunnel of flesh and muscle, shielding us from a few screaming fans and photographers as we jump out of the SUV. I keep my head down and place a hand over my face although I know no one is here to see me. I’d imagine this is mild compared to what Riot is usually faced with when he hits the town, but I can’t imagine having to deal with this every time I left the house. To have to be on 24/7? To never get the privilege of throwing on a pair of ratty sweats and a tee to just run to the corner for coffee, in fear of being photographed? I can’t imagine anyone choosing to live like that.
Being the newb I am, and a good foot shorter than everyone else, my little legs can’t seem to keep up as quickly as Riot would like. Risking his own safety, he turns back to find that I’ve fallen a bit behind. His security team urges him to keep moving, but instead, he stretches a hand towards me. When I’m close enough to reach him, he pulls me into him as if he’s committed himself to be my bodyguard.
We’re ushered to a side entrance that leads straight to the VIP section, or as Poppy describes it, the most depressing effing thing she’s seen all day. I don’t even care. A seductive groove is pulsing through the speakers and the entire place is vibing to a ‘96 party hit. And while the rest of group doesn’t seem to mind the nostalgic feel of my chosen chill spot, there’s only one person’s approval I seek.
“This is pretty dope, Rox,” he leans over and says in my ear.
“Do they even have bottle service here?” Poppy complains from the other side of him.
We’re all crammed into the velvet-roped off area where three couches and a table are centered with a view of the stage. Jonas is busy talking shop with Alec and his colleague while the younger network exec tries to feel out Kaz who keeps glancing over at me. Riot soldiers on as if he doesn’t hear his girlfriend’s incessant griping.
“How’d you find out about this place?”
“Old school R&B night is a weekly ritual for me and Haze,” I explain, moving in close so I don’t have to shout. “Two-dollar shots, five-dollar Long Islands, and the best wings in town. Plus, you’re not going to attract the usual Riot Blu fan base here, so you can relax. Thought you might want a break from the paps.”
He nods, a small, curious crease between his brows, as if he can’t understand how and why I’d come to that conclusion. “Thanks.”
I gesture toward where Jonas is chatting with Alec. “They only see what’s reported about you, and it’s all lies. I know you have a lot to protect, but maybe letting them glimpse the real you wouldn’t hurt either. You don’t have to play the villain in order to save someone.”
Riot’s heated gaze is so piercing that I force myself to look away to salvage my composure. But he doesn’t let me escape that easily.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. You’re just… looking at me.”
“I can’t look at you?”
“Not like that, you can’t. And not with your girl right next to you.”
“What if I can’t help it? And what if I don’t want to?”
His breath is warm on my ear, sending tingles down my spine. And his voice is like sex on a rainy day, slow and sinuous. It may seem innocent—just two people trying to be heard over the roar of music and a hundred different conversations—but I know better. And if I weren’t such a coward, I’d face him and watch as his blue eyes churn with a dozen undefined emotions, or maybe that’s what he’d see in me.
A cocktail waitress arrives with bottles of champagne and vodka, prompting Riot to remember where we are and move away. I’m glad for the distraction, yet I miss his proximity, even if it was dangerous. I look up to find that Kaz is staring at me while pretending to listen to smitten young exec, and just the sight of him brings me a sense of clarity. I’m a fool for craving Riot’s attention, especially in such a public place. Poppy is just two feet away. She has no qualms about making a s
cene if it means she’s seen. Why would I risk setting her off over silly flirtations?
“Hey Kaz!” I call out, before I lose my nerve. “Wanna dance?”
I feel Riot shift beside me, but I don’t even look in his direction. Kaz’s eyebrows lift and he nods, excusing himself from his admirer, and makes his way over to me.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he smiles down at me, extending his hand to help me up.
Kaz leads me through the velvet ropes and to the dance floor just as the DJ takes us back down memory lane and to an early 90’s jam that makes the whole crowd throw their hands in the air, taken over by sweet memories of block parties, dance offs, and first loves.
“So is that it, Rox? That’s the way to your heart?” Kaz utters, dipping low enough to feel his lips brush the shell of my ear. His hands are on my waist, pulling me closer as we roll our hips in a sensual groove.
“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice breathy and light.
“Sensitivity. You like the whole tortured artist thing. They feel more, so you assume they care more. And maybe that’s why you can’t seem to get Riot out of your system.”
“Who said Riot was still in my system?”
He shrugs, giving his hands the perfect excuse to caress up and down my back. “After your speech at dinner and way Riot looks at you like he’s lived his life in black and white and he’s finally seeing color for the first time, just a hunch. Plus, ever since I pulled you on this dance floor, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you. And I’m pretty certain he’s planning to break into my apartment tonight and murder me while I sleep.”
Kaz laughs, but it’s only to hide his unease. “Seriously, whatever you and RB have going is none of my business. And I can’t be upset that you’re not emotionally available to me because of him. I just wish you could see that you deserve more. Hell, Rox, I wish you could see that you’re worth more.”
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