She threw her hands in the air. “After everything we’ve done and built and orchestrated, you went off over some fucking bagels.”
“Give me a break, Lila,” she said sternly. “I didn’t run naked down the street or cozy up to any reporters.”
“How am I supposed to know what you did or said or to whom? You went rogue.”
“Rogue?” She laughed, though it didn’t actually feel funny. “Are you serious? Getting breakfast is not an act of treason. Why are you losing your shit over this?”
“Because you don’t seem to understand that what you did was a massive risk.”
“A risk? I didn’t go skydiving or text while driving.”
Lila slapped her hand on the countertop. “Either of those things would have been more consistent with the tone we’re trying to set here. Your running out to get me breakfast makes it look like we’re super-duper cute and doting.”
“The press thinks I just shacked up with you, then I step outside the next morning with an entirely new look to buy four black coffees and a bag of bread.” Cobie circled around the island, getting closer to make her point. “As far as they’re concerned, I’m on a caffeine and carb bender to replenish me after the life-changing fuckfest we’ve had for the last twenty-four hours.”
“That’s kind of a spin job,” Lila said as her cheeks turned pink.
“This whole thing is a spin job,” Cobie shot back. “And I’ve been cool about that. I’ve played lap dog to the rich and powerful like a boss. Every time you’ve asked me to jump, I’ve asked how high? I let you pick all the dates, all the times, all the places. I’ve let you dress me like butch Barbie and parade me around like a show pony. I’ve done it all because that’s part of the deal, but the deal changes now.”
Lila stepped into her personal space, her chest rising and falling dramatically. “You don’t have the right to change the deal.”
“Oh, I do, because we’re playing in my domain now. You promised today would be ‘what would Vale do?’ day, and Vale would take charge,” Cobie said, her confidence growing as she stepped more fully into the role. “You got to be the boss during the sickening sweet stage. You got to make everyone swoon because that’s what you do, but now we’re in phase two. You got your lesbian love story to tantalize the public. Now I’m getting my swagger on hardcore.”
“By buying bagels?” Lila scoffed. “That’s so badass.”
“By doing what I want.”
“You’re still in my house.”
“No,” she shouted. “For the next six weeks, it’s our house. I am not your prisoner or your plaything, and I will not be treated like one. I will come and go as I please. I will eat what I want and talk to who I want.”
“Even the press?”
“If I think it will serve my cause, yes,” Cobie said resolutely.
Lila shook her head and pursed her lips.
“I’m not going to sink you in the process. I’m a team player, but this . . .” Cobie motioned back and forth in the small space between them. “Us? We need to start functioning more like a team and less like a hostage situation.”
“For someone who doesn’t want a hostage situation, you’re sure making a lot of demands.”
“I’m making up for lost time. Consider me a temperamental starlet if you have to.”
Lila’s lips curled up briefly.
“But I’m a professional. I’m here to develop a character who matters much more to me than she does to you. I’m not going to throw that away or miss opportunities while you tinker in your studio. I’m not sitting around for two months waiting for you to come to terms on a script.”
“I thought I had.”
“Oh, you have, many times, but the rules always change. I’m done being micromanaged if you’re going to abandon ship mid-stream.”
“I don’t—”
“Don’t bullshit me.” Cobie cut her off. “You do it all the time. You kissed me without warning at the ice rink, you walked out on me at the club in Vegas, and yesterday you ordered a makeover, then left me with my head in the sink for ten minutes before dumping me off on Felipe.”
Lila’s face flushed crimson, but she apparently had no defense to offer, so Cobie plowed forward. “The scene always shifts unexpectedly, or the rules only apply to me, and that’s got to end now or I’m going to keep going rogue.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Nope, just the way it has to be. I tried to make this as easy as possible. I’d hoped you and I could be friends, but if we’re just going to be colleagues, then I have to demand a bit of professional courtesy from now on.”
Lila opened her mouth, then closed it again and stepped back.
“Fine.”
“Fine?” The shock radiated through Cobie.
“You’re right,” Lila said slowly, as if she had a hard time getting the words out. “At least partly.”
“Which part?” Cobie asked suspiciously.
“You’re doing a job here. Name your conditions.”
“Oh.” Cobie had done better when angry. She didn’t know what to make of Lila’s surrender. She’d never been in this position before. Still, she couldn’t give up ground she’d only just won. “From now on, if you feel it important to plan something out, we will both agree to the terms and stick to them, but barring a mutual agreement, I’m going to do my own thing.”
Lila shook her head slowly, then shrugged. “Sure. We can coordinate schedules daily. You’ll let me know if yours changes, and I’ll do the same.”
“Deal,” Cobie said emphatically, but as the tension faded from her body, she became increasingly aware of her proximity to Lila, with her flushed cheeks and red lips. Awkwardness rushed in to fill the void anger had left, and she blurted, “So you want a bagel?”
Lila rolled her eyes and walked away. “Bye, Cobie.”
Cobie shrugged, trying not to let the dismissal bother her. She’d just stood up to Lila for the first time, and she’d won. She would trade the bagels for badassery every time.
• • •
Lila sighed and grabbed the lined paper off her Steinway. Snatching up a pencil, she set to work erasing the entire chord sequence she’d spent the last half hour constructing. She’d been holed up all day in the studio working.
Working.
Not hiding.
Maybe hiding a little bit, but dwelling on that would make her angry all over again, so she didn’t. Instead she’d chalked her lack of progress up to needing a change in scenery. Her move from the studio to the living room, however, hadn’t done much to stir her musical mojo. Then again, maybe she didn’t have any mojo of any kind. She’d certainly let Cobie steamroll her this morning. Her face flamed at the embarrassment associated with the memory. She lost complete control in the face of Cobie’s defiance. Hell, she’d lost it the minute she heard the front door open and realized Cobie had left without telling anyone. Fear gave way to frustration as old memories threatened, which, in turn, sparked the anger. By the time Cobie waltzed back in with the stupid bagels and her sexy new haircut and that cocky smile and— the pencil cracked in her grip, and she set it back down gently.
Turning to the piano, she played a few keys in haphazard order. She may as well chicken-peck at random than keep up the trends of the day. She closed her eyes and started hitting notes aimlessly. They didn’t grow any more coherent as she went, but they did get louder until she hammered the keys with enough force to make the whole piano vibrate under her fingers. The exercise wasn’t productive, but the release felt cathartic, so she kept it up for a few minutes before someone cleared their voice.
“Shit,” she muttered as she opened her eyes and saw Cobie leaning up against the doorjamb across the room. She still wore all black, a choice that would have seemed maudlin on anyone else, but with a twinge of irritation, Lila had to concede it worked. Maybe that bothered her a little bit too. Cobie hadn’t needed her help today. Not with the clothes, not with the press, and not with locating her backbone.
Cobie didn’t seem to get the message that she didn’t want her there, or perhaps she did but didn’t care. Wasn’t that the point of their argument? Cobie was going to do what Cobie wanted to do, and apparently right now Cobie wanted to hover over her.
She leaned against the piano and glanced over the discarded drafts before walking around to see the one Lila currently had propped up on the music stand. Lila felt like a child being graded on her work, and she lashed out in kind.
“Are you here to apologize for earlier?”
Cobie laughed lightly. “No. I stand by my statements.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“I thought maybe my statements could use a little clarification.”
“I think you made your feelings clear.”
Cobie smiled again, maddeningly. “Good, but now I thought I could tell you it’s not because I don’t appreciate your help or your input. I do, but I also believe I know Vale’s character better than almost anyone in the world. I know her intimately.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Intimately?”
Cobie’s cheeks flushed. “I mean in depth.”
Lila turned back to her piano keys, softly tapping a few, not sure she believed her.
“I’m dedicated to my craft, Lila. And I’m dedicated to what we’re doing together to further my career. I know it may not seem so all the time, because it’s harder for me, but I’m every bit as invested as you are. Maybe more so.”
She pressed her lips tightly together.
“I didn’t mean that as a cut down,” Cobie quickly amended. “I only meant you’ve done this sort of thing before. I’m one of many chances you get to play the part you want, but I might have only one shot at this character. I have to stick the landing right here, right now.”
“Why?”
“Because if I don’t, they might give the part to someone else, or they might not make the movie at all.”
Lila finally looked up, noticing a hint of pleading in Cobie’s eyes. “No, I mean why this movie? There will be other films. What’s the end game? What are you going to do with your newfound fame, or does this character matter more than the rest?”
Cobie’s jaw twitched and she looked away. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try.”
“It’s just, I can’t.” She shook her head. “It’s personal, okay.”
Curiosity tried to claw its way through Lila’s determination to stay distant, but she refused to beg her for information. Doing so would give Cobie the upper hand in the conversation. Perhaps more importantly, if she pushed too hard she might actually get her answer. The hard set of Cobie’s jaw and the far-away look in her eyes suggested she’d stepped into something deeper than pure ambition, and she didn’t really want to unearth anything that might make her feel too much. She’d already come too close to doing so earlier that day, and she hadn’t enjoyed it. Raw emotions could undermine both her resolve and her self-preservation tactics. Not to mention Cobie’s newfound confidence didn’t do anything to help her stay focused on being angry. It was maddeningly attractive.
She gave the piano keys her full attention once more, hoping that even if she couldn’t compose a song right now, the distraction could at least help her compose herself. Cobie didn’t take the hint and instead sat down on the bench beside her. Lila immediately scooted over, not wanting to be close enough to feel the heat radiating off her or smell the familiar fragrance of her own shampoo on Cobie’s hair. Then she realized that making room for Cobie might have seemed like a welcoming gesture.
Damn it. Why was she second-guessing everything? She hardly even recognized herself.
“Are you stuck?” Cobie whispered.
“No,” she snapped, but as Cobie waited patiently for her to elaborate, she wavered. “Maybe.”
“What’s the song about?”
“It’s a female empowerment anthem.”
Cobie nodded. “You’re good at those.”
She smiled slightly, enjoying the compliment more than she should. She didn’t need anyone else’s affirmation, which was kind of the point of the song.
“Play me up to the last line you have?”
The mix between statement and question kept her from completely rebelling and pushing Cobie off the bench, but she still took a deep breath to calm herself before playing through the opening and giving voice to the first verse. “We all play the same game, even though we’re all dealt different hands. It doesn’t mean we can’t work together . . .” The words and the music both faded out.
Cobie’s brow furrowed, and she frowned for a second before snapping her fingers and saying, “Take a better stand?”
Lila raised her eyebrows but knew better than to argue during the creative process. She played the line again, this time adding in Corey’s contribution. “Not terrible.”
“I’ll take that as compliment coming from such an accomplished songstress.”
“Might be beginner’s luck,” Lila said, but the grudgingness she’d meant to put in her voice didn’t quite come through. “Try another?”
Cobie nodded, her dark eyes serious. “Sure.”
“No one else gets to judge, it doesn’t matter how they rate, because you’re the one and that’s all I have,” Lila sang.
Cobie laughed this time. “Tough one. Play it again, please?”
She obliged without a second thought this time.
“That’s kind of hard. I have a word that works with the rhyme, but not the line leading into it.”
“Lay it on me, I’m writing in pencil here.”
“You could pair ‘rate’ with ‘validate.’ It rhymes and it fits the theme, but—”
“No, that’s not hard to rework.” She grabbed her cracked pencil and made a few corrections. “No one else gets to judge, because it doesn’t matter how you rate. You only need you to validate.”
“Sounds like you’ve found your way again.”
“Actually, I think you found my title.”
“Yeah?”
Lila scrawled across the top of the page in a strong bold script and held it up for Cobie to see. It simply read, “Validate.”
“Well, look at me making a contribution. I guess I’m not a total waste of air in this household.”
Lila sighed. “You’re not. You’re already earning your keep, but now I guess you also earned a songwriting credit.”
“Oh no.” She shook her head. “I didn’t do anything but piggyback off what you started, and you started in a very good place.”
“Doesn’t matter. That’s how collaboration works. We don’t all have to start in the same place, we just have to work toward the same goal.”
“Sounds like the song you’re writing. Do you really believe it?”
“I do,” Lila said quickly. “I never write or record a song I don’t believe in. I sing the truth. Always.”
Cobie nodded as if trying to process the statement.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I’m trying to. I’m running through your songs I know in my mind. I guess it’s true.”
“You guess?” Lila asked, getting defensive again.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you were lying. You just caught me off guard after all your talk about marketing and working a career plan to get what you want. I sort of assumed you just did what the trends dictated.”
“Just because I’m acutely aware of my career goals doesn’t mean I sacrificed my soul for them,” she said sharply. “I like a variety of music. I write a variety of music. I’m not someone who is defined by genres or labels. There are lots of good true parts of myself, and yes, I emphasize certain parts at different times and to different audiences, but that doesn’t make the feeling behind them any less real.”
Cobie held up her hand in surrender, but Lila was on a roll now, finally feeling the sta
bility she’d lacked earlier this morning. “No one would ever say that because you took a different kind of movie role you had fundamentally changed who you are. No one accused you of being straight because you kissed some boy on screen after coming out.”
“No, they didn’t,” Cobie agreed.
“Hell, you could play a murderer on TV, and no one would actually think you’re a killer. They would say you did your job, and I’m sure they’d think you were doing it well if you could adapt to changing characters and still maintain a high level of craft. I can take meaningful lyrics and powerful messages and put them into a medium that will get them to a wide audience of people who really need to hear them.”
“Lila,” Cobie whispered.
“Why is it that when you change your look and your style and your public image to better do your job, you’re dedicated, and when I do the musical equivalent, I’m a sell-out?”
“Lila,” Cobie said louder.
“What?” she practically shouted.
“I said, I agree with you.”
She shook her head, but Cobie reached up, tenderly taking Lila’s face in her soft hands. “Look at me.”
She didn’t really have a choice. She’d frozen at the touch.
“I’m not arguing with you. I agree. You’re smart and talented and business savvy. You should write the songs you feel compelled to write, any way you see fit to write them.”
“I do,” she whispered.
“And you do it well. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. It’s just hard for me sometimes to tell what you’re really thinking or feeling.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Professionally, it doesn’t,” Cobie admitted, letting one hand fall away, but she used the other to stroke a thumb along her cheek in the most heartwrenchingly intimate way. “But on a more personal level, I want to know.”
“Why?” She hated the quaver in her voice, but she couldn’t seem to control any part of her reaction right now.
“Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment. Or maybe I’m just a softy who can’t stand to have a beautiful woman mad at me.” She smiled broadly. “Or maybe, like it or not, I actually care about you.”
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