When Charley slams the door in my face, I stand there for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts. My first instinct is to knock or ring the doorbell and demand she talk to me. But after three years of heavy silence between us, I don’t deserve to demand anything from her.

Besides, I’ve picked up a lot of bad over the past three years, but groveling is not one of them.

I head back to the house with Ponti. I ignore the shocked looks on Tyrell and Holder’s faces as I pass them on the porch on the way into the house. When I’m inside, I head straight for the kitchen and grab the bottle of vodka out of the freezer. I open the cupboard to get a glass, but I remember all the cups are in the dishwasher, where my dad’s new caregiver, Shannon, put them yesterday.

I pull the cork out of the bottle of Grey Goose and down at least four shots, then I slam the bottle on the counter and close my eyes as I concentrate on not vomiting. When I finally open them a couple minutes later, Tyrell is standing next to me looking more disappointed than my dad looked the first time he saw me do the same thing last week.

The numbness is already beginning to spread from my face down to my neck and arms. I let go of the bottle because I can hardly feel it in my hand. No one except Jordan – and now my dad, too – knows why I broke up with Charley. No one except my sleazy agent knows why I do half the shit I do. And he will never let me forget.

“If you’re thinking of expressing your disappointment, I wouldn’t do that,” I slur, corking the bottle and slipping it back onto the shelf in the freezer. “What you think of me can’t possibly be any worse than what I think of me.”

Tyrell shakes his head as he watches me collapse into a chair at the dining table in the breakfast nook. “Wasn’t gonna express my disappointment. I was gonna tell you that I got a call while you were outside. It was Katie.”

I blink a few times, then cock an eyebrow. “Katie Lindberg? She called you?”

He nods as he and Holder take a seat at the table, while Ponti begins fixing himself his third protein shake of the day.

“She sounded pretty eager to discuss the studio shots. Probably desperate for work,” Tyrell says with obvious pity. “She asked me to FaceTime her Saturday at three, so I told her that was fine.”

“Did she seem suspicious? Like, did she believe this is just about hiring her for a shoot?” I ask eagerly.

“She seemed fine.” Tyrell leans back in the chair and narrows his eyes at me. “So, what kind of information am I supposed to get out of her?”

I lean back in the chair and shake my head. “Nothing. You’re not going to talk to her.”

Holder laughs and shakes his head. “He just sent your ass on a wild goose chase, and you fell for that shit. See? That’s why I don’t do errands. I write lyrics. Don’t ask me to get your fuckin’ dry cleaning.”

Tyrell rolls his eyes. “Why the fuck did I just go through all that trouble to get her private number? Do you know how fucking difficult that shit was, with the drama-storm that’s following her around right now?”

I smile and close my eyes as the room begins to spin and I finally feel comfortably numb. “Because I’m going to talk to her… And Katie and I are gonna have a conversation we should have had ten years ago.”

Since I came home, my dad is the only person other than Jordan who knows why I broke up with Charley. But there are plenty of other people who know how toxic this industry can be. And they’ll believe me when they know the truth. At least, I hope they will, or all of this will have been for nothing.