Release Me

by Farrah Rochon

  The waitress arrived within minutes, and Sienna waited until they’d placed their order before folding her hands on the table and leaning forward. “Okay, spill it,” she said.

  “Spill what?”

  “I just knew you were going to say that.”

  “Say what?”

  “That. Whenever you want to avoid a subject you answer all my questions with questions until I get irritated and drop it. Well, I’m not dropping it this time.”

  “You didn’t ask a question. You made a demand.”

  “Stop skirting around the issue, Toby. What’s up with you and Isaac Payton?”

  “Not a damn thing.”

  “Fine,” Sienna said, they’d get back to this soon enough. Sienna had something more pressing she wanted to discuss. Although she’d promised Aria that she wouldn’t say anything to Toby, Sienna thought he had a right to know. “There’s something else we need to talk about.”

  He sent her a guarded look.

  “Aria and I had a real heart-to-heart at the salon today,” Sienna continued. “There’s just something about a hairdresser’s chair that gets a person talking.”

  “And?” He asked, reaching for his glass of water.

  “And, she’s in love with you,” Sienna said with a casual wave of her hand.

  Toby put the glass down without taking a sip. “She is not in love with me,” he insisted.

  The waitress came over to take their order, but Toby sent her away.

  “We’ve been over this already, Sienna. There is nothing going on between me and Aria.”

  “Are you really that blind, Toby? The girl worships the ground you walk on.”

  His eyes slid shut. He slouched back in the chair, a pained expression on his face. “Did you at least set her straight?”

  “That’s not my responsibility. You’re the one who’s been giving her mixed signals.”

  He sat up straight. “The hell I have.”

  Sienna made a production of looking at her watch. “Maybe we should get the waitress to take our order.”

  “We’ve got time. Now, why would you say I’ve been giving Aria mixed signals? I’ve been nothing but professional with her.”

  “Are you kidding?” Sienna asked with an incredulous snort. “The two of you are always together. Most managers don’t bring their clients to every family function. Maybe that’s what gave her the impression that she was more than just a ‘client’.” Sienna made air quotes on the last word.

  The waitress returned, and Sienna ordered them both garden salads topped with fried crawfish tails. “All I’m saying is that you need to talk to her to find out exactly what she is expecting from this client/manager relationship,” she continued.

  Toby swore. “How could I have even prepared myself for something like this? You don’t have to worry about your teammates getting mixed signals when you play basketball.”

  “Speaking of which, why don’t you answer my first question?” He pinned her with another stare. Sienna was getting really tired of those. “Come on, Toby. What’s with the hostility toward Payton?”

  “I told you it’s nothing.”

  “Oh, that’s why you looked as if you were ready to ripped Jonathan’s head from his shoulders when you thought he’d invited him here?”

  “Payton is an ass, okay.”

  “Hell-o-o-o. I watch ESPN. I know that already. Exactly what is your particular beef with him? The two of you started at St. John’s together, but I don’t remember ever hearing about any kind of animosity on the team. Was something happening behind the scenes?”

  He sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking like he was posing for the dictionary example of the word irritated. Sienna didn’t care. To her surprise, it looked as if Toby would concede before she had to get nasty.

  Toby ran his hand down his face and relinquished his slouched pose. Setting his elbows on the table, he leaned forward and spoke in a hushed, but no less harsh, tone.

  “Payton and I used to be tight back at St. John’s. His childhood nearly mirrored mine: two older brothers, and a single mother raising them. Except his dad is still alive somewhere, as far as I know. But, basically, it was the same situation. I don’t know, I guess that’s why we clicked.”

  Toby removed the wet paper napkin from under his glass and started tearing it into jumbled, soggy pieces. The waitress brought their salads, but Toby ignored his.

  “Anyway, this agent out of Seattle was scouting around the campus and tried to get both me and Isaac to enter the draft early. We both agreed, but at the last minute, Isaac pulled out. He’d made a deal with another agent behind my back, who told him if he stayed in school his senior year he would go in the first round.”

  “Which he did,” Sienna said. She remembered the draft that year.

  “He went sixth, to Philly.” Toby picked up one of the wet strips of paper and rolled it between his fingers. “This other agent had inside information on the health of some of the players. He knew the next year’s draft class would be weaker, so Isaac had a better chance of moving up in the draft if he waited. Isaac stayed in school, worked hard, and managed to become a first team all-American his senior year, so he got a two-point-five million dollar signing bonus.”

  Sienna winced. She clearly remembered when Toby was drafted. He’d been taken toward the end of the second round, and his sign-on bonus was nowhere near two-point-five million.

  “The worst of it is, I didn’t want to come out early,” he said, shoving the wet scraps away. “The only reason I even agreed to speak with the agent is because Isaac wanted to. Can you believe I let him talk me into doing something like that?”

  No, she couldn’t. Toby had a mind of his own, and rarely, even as a young boy, did he let anyone influence him. Even his brothers had a hard time getting through once Toby set his mind to do something.

  “Why didn’t you pull out once you realized Isaac had backtracked?”

  He shot her a quick, uneasy look. “You remember that Benz I was driving the night of the accident?”

  Sienna narrowed her eyes. “You did not.”

  “The car. The watch.” He rolled up the cuff of his sleeve. “And cash. More than I’d ever seen.”

  “You accepted money from an agent while you were still playing college ball?”

  He nodded. “I still have about five-hundred grand saved.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

  “Did your brothers know about this?” Sienna asked.

  “Hell no! Can you imagine that ass kicking?”

  Sienna shuddered, wondering how Toby could have gotten so seduced by money.

  “I’ve been planning to send Mama and her sister on that 21-day cruise to Russia they’ve wanted to go on for as long as I can remember, but I know Mama would question where the money came from. None of the jobs I’ve had can account for that kind of cash, and the modest amount I made in my non-existent basketball career is tied up in investments. Mama’s already told me not to think about touching it.”

  Margo Holmes was probably the one person who could influence him.

  “So, you accepted a car and cash from the agent in exchange for coming into the draft early?” Sienna clarified.

  “Yeah. Probably the biggest mistake of my life. No, definitely the biggest mistake. If I’d stayed my butt in school, I wouldn’t have been on the highway that night.”

  Sienna’s chest tightened. “Toby,” she whispered.

  He tried to hide his pain behind a smile, but Sienna could see right through it. She didn’t know what to say, so she just stretched her hand out across the table, praying he’d take it.

  He did.

  His smile was more genuine this time, with a little relief tipping up the edges. Sienna wasn’t sure she should press anymore, but she had tried for so long to get Toby to talk about his accident. Maybe if he did, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

  “You ever thought that maybe the accident was a part of a bigger plan?” she asked softly.

  His head k
icked back as if she’d slapped him, his gaze slicing into her. “You think it was divine intervention that an SUV came flying over the median, crashed into me head on, and nearly ripped my spine apart?”

  She shuddered again. “Okay, you don’t have to be so graphic.”

  “But it was graphic. Very graphic,” he said, his voice edged with steel, his knuckles white where he gripped the table.

  “I’m sorry,” Sienna said.

  “No, I’m sorry.” Toby ran a hand down his face. “I’m just so tired of hearing that the accident was meant to happen. I guess that’s everyone’s way of trying to help me accept it, but it’s hard.” He looked up at her, his eyes laced with pain. “I nearly died, Sienna. I was in the hospital for months.”

  “I remember,” she said softly. She had actually been there a few days after his accident, when he was still in a coma, even though she never told him that she had flown up to D.C. The image of Toby with those dozens of wires and machines hooked up to him would remain with her for the rest of her life.

  “You know what the worst part is? There’s nobody to blame. It’s not as if I was hit by a drunk driver who shouldn’t have been on the road in the first place. Gina Carson was just like my mother, a single parent trying to provide for her children. Remember all those years Mama fought with the insurance company after my dad died? Mama worked two jobs, too. She probably fell asleep behind the wheel more than once. She was just lucky enough she never crashed the car into something, or someone.”

  Toby lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug.

  “How can I fault the woman who hit me for trying to make a better life for her kids when my own mother did the same for me?”

  “I’m sorry,” Sienna said, because she didn’t know what else to say. She’d wanted him to open up, but had not counted on the complete despair clouding Toby’s face.

  “Maybe it was part of a bigger plan,” he said. “It was probably my penance for taking the car and money.”

  “Toby…”

  He waved her off. “I’m joking. At least I’ve learned to do that again. You know, you should be happy I never came around after the accident. I was a mean SOB. Nobody wanted to be around me.”

  Sienna could not share his humor. It was a façade. He was still hurting. It was written all over his face, seeping out of every pore of his body.

  Unsure of what his reaction might be to what she was going to say, she took a deep breath before speaking. “You may not want to hear this, but yes, I do believe the accident was meant to happen,” she said. His head snapped back again and he blinked a few times, but Sienna forged ahead. “You are an unbelievable manager and a gifted songwriter, Toby. You are going to make Aria Jordan’s and countless other aspiring singers’ dreams come true. Basketball was not in the cards for you—as much as you may love it and miss it. I truly believe this is what you were meant to do.”

  He stared at her, not saying anything.

  “Toby,” Sienna said when he continued to just stare.

  “Thank you,” he finally said. Sienna’s heart leapt at the true sincerity in his eyes. “When I first told Eli and Alex about my plan to go into music, they had no problem telling me how ridiculous it was for me to attempt to be a manager. That’s why I tried to keep the songwriting private. You’re the first person to tell me I’m good at what I do, Sienna.”

  “No, I’m not,” she said.

  His eyes bored into hers and he squeezed her hand. “The first that matters.”

  Sienna’s stomach trembled at the seriousness in his voice.

  They ate the remainder of their meal in relative silence, which was fine after the heavy discussion that had just taken place. When they finished, Toby rose from the table and came around to help her out of her seat.

  “You ready to face the backstabber?” she asked him.

  “Might as well,” he said. “As Jonathan pointed out, Payton brought along an entourage the size of a small town. This can only be good for Aria and the show. Let’s get this over with.”

  ***

  As they made their way down the wide staircase, Toby mentally pictured all the things he wished he could do to Isaac Payton. First was slamming his fist into the man’s face. But as he approached The Hard Court’s main floor, Toby decided to be the bigger man and leave the pettiness aside. He was over his former teammate’s treachery.

  Well, he wasn’t entirely over it, but it didn’t burn as much as it used to.

  He had more important things to think about than the butcher knife Isaac had planted squarely between his shoulder blades all those years ago. He had a new career. A brand new life. And according to Sienna, he was good at what he did.

  God, it felt good to hear that. After years of floundering from one interest to another, something about music had finally clicked. He had worked his butt off trying to develop the right image. Convincing his family that this was what he wanted to do with his life was a monumental task; convincing himself that it was right proved harder than anything else. But Sienna believed in him. And, for some reason, that made all the difference in the world.

  As they arrived at the bottom of the stairs, bitterness clogged in Toby’s throat as he noticed Isaac Payton’s entourage taking up nearly a third of the floor. The jerk probably paid them to hang on to his every word.

  Toby didn’t have the time or the energy to devote to resenting his ex-teammate. Tonight was Aria’s last performance before the cameras arrived for A Week in the Life of a Wannabe Star. He had to focus on every nuance of her performance in order to pick out the things they needed to work on.

  “Why don’t we stand back here,” Sienna said. “It’s the perfect view of the stage. We can really study Aria from this vantage point.”

  It was as if she’d read his mind.

  That was scary. For a multitude of reasons. If Sienna had even an inkling of some of the images that had been floating through his mind today, she would skewer him.

  Before Toby could examine that thought further, the emcee took to the stage. He acknowledged Payton, because first and foremost, Jonathan was a businessman, and having Isaac Payton in his club was good for business. If anyone had missed the fact that the pro basketball star was in the house, Jonathan would make sure they knew.

  He introduced Aria, and Toby could only smile at the acclaim that resounded around the club.

  He and Sienna stood in the back and watched as Aria performed. Her vocals were on target, as always, but he sensed skittishness lurking under the false confidence.

  “She’s still too stiff,” Sienna said, again reading his mind. She had to stop doing that.

  “She is,” Toby agreed. “How else am I supposed to loosen her up? That’s what these practice runs at the Hard Court were supposed to do.”

  Sienna shook her head. “I’m not sure, but we have to do something before those cameras start rolling. They are going to add extra stress as it is.”

  Toby knew what she said was true; he just didn’t know what to do about it. Thankfully, the crowd at the Hard Court either didn’t notice Aria’s tendency for stage fright, or they didn’t care. When she finished her third and final song of the night on a loud and clear high note, the place went into an uproar.

  If making it in the music business were only about singing, Aria would be a shoo-in. But in today’s music world it took a lot more than a powerful voice to win over the masses. Performers had to portray a certain persona. They had to have a certain style. Charisma. They still had a long way to go where Aria was concerned.

  She acknowledged the applause with her usual shy grace, but in a move that surprised the heck out of Toby, Aria pointed straight back, saying, “I’d like to give a shout out to my manager, Tobias Holmes.”

  Most of the heads in the club turned to him, and the crowd continued to roar.

  Toby accepted pats on the back from the people surrounding him, but he knew by making his presence known, Aria had just made him a prime target for Isaac Payton. He had hoped to go the
night without having to face his former teammate. Toby had no doubt that Payton knew he was bitter about how things had gone down between them when he left St. John’s, and he could tell the guy took pleasure in rubbing his success in Toby’s face.

  It looked as if his reprieve would be even shorter than he’d hoped. Payton’s entourage had parted, and the man was making his way toward the back of the club where he and Sienna were standing. Toby spotted Jonathan in the crowd about fifty feet away, but all Jonathan could offer was a helpless haunch of his shoulders.

  Toby braced himself for his first exchange with his former friend in over four years.

  “Tobias Holmes.”

  “Payton.” Toby nodded, unable to keep the stoicism out of his voice. How in the hell was he supposed to greet the man who’d stabbed him so soundly in the back? With a hug?

  “Did I hear that correctly?” Payton asked. “You’re the one who manages that lovely creature?”

  “Aria is one of the artists under the Tobias Holmes Production label.”

  Payton’s eyebrows rose. “You have your own label? I guess it takes more than a broken spine to keep you down.”

  Anger rippled through Toby at the jab.

  “And who is this?” Isaac asked, turning his attention to Sienna.

  She stuck out her hand. “Sienna Culpepper. I’m the marketing director for Toby’s label.”

  Okay, so that was a pretty good stretch of the truth. Handling Aria’s account definitely didn’t make Sienna the marketing director for the entire label, but Toby decided to roll with it.

  Isaac took Sienna’s hand and brought it to his lips. “You know, I’m about to fire my publicist. Are you looking to move up in the world?”

  Sienna pulled her hand free and gave a half-hearted laugh. “I think I’ll pass. I’m more than happy in my current position.”

  Isaac cocked one brow. “That’s only because you don’t know how much greener the grass is on the other side.”

  “Having that much trouble finding people to work for you that you have to sink to poaching, Isaac?” Toby asked.