Stumbling. Giggling. Breathlessly whispering.
Stop it, heart.
Stay still, heart.
Fight it, heart.
Her name was Gina.
I knew, because he leaned down and let her sniff his neck when she said he smelled like the malest thing she’d ever met. ‘Malest’ wasn’t even a word. And I immediately hated all the Ginas in the world.
“Gina ,” he rasped her name like a dirty secret.
I peeked at them through the peephole, every bone in my body shaking with rage.
“Darlin’, if you only had a clue.”
Darlin’ . He dropped the G. For Gina.
I was so consumed by their moment, I found it hard to breathe.
“Oh, I saw.” She laughed, her sultry voice perfect against his skin, nothing like my high-pitched one. “Your cock’s all over the Internet, Alex.”
To that, he said nothing.
He stopped by my door, took out his chewed gum from his mouth, plastered a small note into it, and slammed it against the peephole.
Then I heard his door open.
Then I heard his door close.
I opened mine quickly, slipping my arm to take the note he’d left for me.
YOU ARE THE GLUE.
I turned around, squeezing my eyelids and banging my head against the door.
Three.
Two.
One.
Three.
Two.
One.
The sound was faint, but it was there. The exasperation in her movement lit something in me. I felt her pain. Tasted it on my lips and savored it like hot honey on my tongue.
I smiled into my kiss with what’s-her-face. My tool, my container, my bait. My prop for this lesson.
Finally, Stardust was beginning to get it.
It.
Us.
We were going to fuck. Her head banging against the door assured me of that. Lucas was going to pay.
He was going to pay for giving Will the keys to my apartment when I was on tour and Fallon OD’d. He’d found her.
Lucas was going to pay for giving Fallon Will’s phone number when she’d asked for it to thank him after he’d rushed to save the day. Pay for helping them slip under the radar at the Grammys three years ago, when she was on my arm but ended up fucking Will in the bathroom.
Pay for all of those things with the most precious thing money couldn’t buy.
Lucas was going to pay for them with his heart.
Indie: Anyone up?
Jenna: I am. It’s the middle of the night there. What’s wrong?
Indie: Nothing’s wrong. Sorry. A question for future reference—is Alex allowed to bring girls to his room? I mean, they might have alcohol or drugs…
Jenna: They might, but they probably won’t. Yes. It’s fine.
Jenna: Or maybe it’s not completely fine for YOU…
Indie: All is good. I just wanted to make sure.
Jenna: Did you tell him about the ten-minute song?
Indie: Yes. He’s keeping it. The crowd went nuts for it today. He also wrote a political song.
Jenna: Of course he did.
Indie: It’s great, actually.
Jenna: Great will get you nowhere in the music industry. He needs catchy. And fast. People DNF three-minute songs these days.
Indie: DNF?
Jenna: Do. Not. Finish. How are you two getting along?
How much time do you have, lady?
Indie: Well, he’s no longer actively trying to get rid of me.
Jenna: And Blake? You and him are on the same wavelength?
Indie: We are. Are you?
Jenna: Did you actually just ask me that question?
Indie: Yup. I had nothing to lose. Jenna needed me there. Plus, they weren’t exactly secretive about hating each other.
Jenna: Blake and I are complicated. I have contracts to sort through. Keep me updated.
Hudson: :-O
Singapore.
I spent the plane ride Skyping with Nat and Ziggy, curled on the sofa by the window.
Alex was wearing Wayfarers and a black hoodie, his arms folded over his chest, draped on a couch, asleep. He had earbuds in his ears and looked like the closest thing to women’s porn while being fully clothed. I tried to tell myself it was a good thing that he’d done what he did with Gina. It clarified what we were, and more importantly—what we weren’t.
“He came back in the middle of the night.” Nat rubbed her red eyes, bouncing Ziggy on her thigh. Her hair was a knotted mess. “Drunk as hell and reeking of puke. Said he’d been looking for the killer all day. Knocked on people’s doors. Yelled at them. Do you realize how crazy this sounds? He needs help, Indie. Fast.”
She was right, of course. I was starting to believe my brother needed much more than a job. He needed rehab. With the money I was making, we could afford to send him to a decent one. Even more incentive to stay on tour and tolerate Alex. I cleared my throat, glancing sideways to make sure no one was listening.
“Eleven weeks and I’ll be home,” I soothed. “Just hang in there, Nat. I promise, I’ll set him straight when I’m back.”
“It’s like he’s not even the same person anymore. I mean, I get it. He’s still hurting. But…I married a stranger. I had a baby with a stranger. I look at him and don’t see the boy who serenaded me outside my window. I see a slacker who doesn’t want to get better. A slacker that boy would have hated.”
I opened my mouth, about to answer, when the flight attendant breezed in, wearing a satin, baby blue uniform and the best customer service smile I’d seen in years.
“Gentlemen, Miss Bellamy, we’re getting prepared for landing. Please buckle up.”
“I need to go.” I wrinkled my nose, hating to cut off the conversation prematurely.
Nat looked older, like her last few nights had been as long as years.
“At least tell me you’re having fun over there? It would make me feel a lot better.”
“Sure.” I smiled. “Great time.”
“Manage to catch a glimpse of any English rock star sausages?” She replaced her exasperated frown with a heartened sniff.
Oh, God.
Alex’s pouty lips twitched, even through his pretense of sleep. My face burned all the way up to my roots, then down to my toes. She couldn’t have known he was right there. The plane was quiet, with everyone either napping or watching a movie.
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” he announced at the same time from his place on the sofa, flicking his sunglasses to a nearby table and standing up. He swaggered toward me, his devil-may-care smirk on display. My heart did that thing again, where it disobeyed my mind and wanted to jump into Alex’s hands.