Things got worse when she walked through the door.
Mr. Powers was at the table, along with the tour manager and a woman Kylie didn’t recognize. Stacks of papers were on the table, and the woman had a box of checks in front of her.
Mr. Powers gestured at the chair across from the three of them. “Please be seated, Miss Daniels.”
Kylie sat, feeling like she’d been sent to the principal’s office.
“This is Ms. Draper,” Mr. Powers said, indicating the woman on his right. “She cuts all of the payments for Daphne’s payroll. Now, before we give you your final payment, our lawyers are asking that we get all employees to sign a non-disclosure as a favor to Daphne. We’d prefer that this not hit the media any harder than it has.” His smile was tight.
“Of course,” Kylie murmured, taking the pen offered to her. They pushed a piece of paper in her direction, full of teeny tiny writing in a minuscule font. There was a signature line at the bottom, and she scanned the document. Blah blah will not speak to media blah blah disclose any incidents on tour blah blah. She signed and dated the document and handed it back. “I wouldn’t talk to anyone.”
They simply gave her a baleful look, and Ms. Draper began to flip through the envelopes in her box, looking for Kylie’s name. She pulled it out a moment later and offered it to Kylie. “This is your net pay. The label is giving you a stipend for a ticket back home, plus the remainder of money you’re owed for the tour, minus any contractual fees.”
Contractual . . . fees? She took the envelope and because they were all still watching her, opened it and looked at her check.
Twelve dollars and thirty-seven cents.
Her hands began to shake. She was owed several thousand. Tens of thousands. “Um . . . why . . .”
“Daphne’s had two canceled shows, and this is your portion of the costs. In addition, you’ll be receiving a bill for the additional fees that we are owed.”
She felt faint. “You can’t charge me for her shows. I had nothing to do with her overdose. I didn’t force the pills into her mouth.”
“Your behavior pushed her, however. Please consult your contract if you have any questions.” Mr. Powers gave her a tight smile. “Good day.”
Kylie stared at the three of them. She could sit there and argue with them about things, but that wouldn’t solve anything, would it? She could fight this—hire lawyers to go over the contract and pore over every phrase. Interpret things differently. Take it to court and try to win some of that money back.
But all of that cost time and money. And while she now had nothing but time . . . she had no money.
Cade has money, her brain told her. He can help you.
And . . . then what? Be beholden to him? Allow someone else to control her life because she couldn’t hack it financially? Be a burden like her Nana Sloane was?
In the end, she quietly left the room and went upstairs to pack her bags. Using the hotel phone, she called her friend, Star. Star was the only person saving Kylie from being homeless in L.A. by letting her sleep on her couch when Kylie was between tours. Occasionally, she let Kylie borrow money. Or rather, she sold off things of Kylie’s on eBay and forwarded Kylie the funds. But it was easier to sell old family jewelry and heirlooms than to borrow money from someone that would hold money over her head.
So she called Star.
“Burger King,” Star said as she picked up the phone. “We make it your way.”
“It’s me, Star,” Kylie said. Star never answered unknown calls with her own name. She was a bit of a nut, but a well-meaning one.
“Sweetie! How are you? How’s the tour? You will not believe what I saw in the news! Did you know—”
“Yep, I know,” Kylie said tiredly. “And I’m under a gag order not to talk about it. I need a favor. You know the boxes I have in your storage closet?”
“Yup. What’s up?”
“My nana’s vintage mink coat is in one of them. Can you eBay that for me and forward me the money?”
“Sec,” Star said, and put down the phone.
Kylie waited impatiently, twisting her finger in the curling phone cord. Star had an incredible eye for valuables, and could spot a dollar to be made at an estate sale. She could look at the coat and judge how much it was worth for her to sell. Hopefully it’d be enough.
Star returned a few minutes later. “All right, I took a look at it. Definitely vintage—at least eighty years old. Which is good because people like fur, but they don’t like recently dead fur, if you know what I mean. Apparently it’s okay if it died a hundred years ago, but not ten. Go figure. And the sizing is good, which means I can sell it. You know some of that vintage stuff is teeny tiny. I can probably get one or one point five grand for it on auction. You want me to advance you?”
They’d done this dance before, and at this point, Star didn’t even ask why. Kylie could have kissed Star’s crystal-rubbing horoscope-loving self. “Yes, please. One thousand should get me home.”
“Can do, baby doll. You sound upset. You okay?”
Kylie smiled, fighting back tears. “Just having a rough week.”
“Save all that for next week, honey! Mercury’s not in retrograde until then.”
“Got it. Just send the money, okay?”
They made payment arrangements and Kylie thanked Star profusely. Star was a bit of an eccentric, but a loyal and dependable one, and Kylie adored her for it. She called the nursing home next, and let them know that her next payment would be somewhat delayed, but she was making arrangements and if they could please just charge her a premium late fee until everything was settled, that would be wonderful.
She winced at the new monthly dollar amount quoted to her, but had no choice but to agree to it. She couldn’t have her nana on the street, no matter how much it cost to keep her in the home. She’d luck into a job at some point. Hopefully sooner rather than later.
When all the arrangements were made, her flight booked, her nana handled, Kylie sat for a moment on the edge of the bed and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying hard not to cry. Everything felt so overwhelming at the moment.
It would be so easy to go to Cade, whine to him about her troubles, and let him fix it. Let him fling some money at it and make it go away.
And . . . then what? Be indebted to him? Wait for him to throw her a bone? Constantly be anxious about money and how much she owes him and how she’d pay him back? Wonder if he’s going to get tired of having to clean up her messes and send her packing?
She’d been there before. And it was awful.
Never again. She’d just have to suck it up and figure out other ways to make things work. And if they didn’t involve Cade, so be it. The timing was all wrong. She swiped at her eyes, hating the decision she was going to make, but knowing she was going to do it anyhow.
Still, she was unprepared when she opened the door to her hotel room, and Cade stood there, tired and rumpled and smiling at the sight of her.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he said. “Can I come in?”
And she hesitated all over again. More than anything, she wanted to throw herself into his arms. To say, Yes, please hold me, Cade, and make it better for me. Instead, she shook her head. “I need to get to the airport.”
His face fell. “What? Kylie, why?”
“I’m going home.” The words were strained, hard to get out around the knot in her throat.
Cade blocked the door, not letting her pass. “I don’t understand. I thought we were good. I thought—last night, when I held you—”
She shook her head. “We can’t be good, Cade.” I have the threat of a lawsuit hanging over my head and the timing’s all wrong and I don’t want to come to you as a burden.
“Why not?”
“Because we’re fucking everyone over by trying to be together,” she snapped. “You choosing me publicly made Daphne go off the deep end.”
His face grew red with anger. “We’re not to blame for Daphne’s actions—”
�
�And now there’s an entire busload of people depending on this tour that are out of work.” And my nana needs me to come up with ten grand in the next two weeks or she’s going to be out on the street. “I can’t keep being selfish about this, not when it costs the happiness of so many other people.”
“What about my happiness?” he asked quietly. “Don’t I count?”
Oh God, he counted. He counted so much. But she’d just had an entire day of people’s hate and loathing in her face and her bank account had been more or less emptied by the label because she couldn’t keep it in her pants when it came to Cade.
And how she’d end up being a burden to him.
A burden. A responsibility to be taken care of. Not a lover, but a millstone around his neck, always costing money.
A burden was the last thing she ever wanted to be.
So she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Cade. I can’t do this. I care for you—”
“Last night you said you loved me.” The pain in his blue eyes was stark.
“I do love you,” Kylie said. “But that doesn’t mean I can be with you. Not now. Maybe not ever. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand, Kylie.” He shook his head, baffled. “Don’t do this. Don’t separate us again. Whatever it is, whatever’s bothering you, I can help. Whatever your burdens, let me share them—”
But she went still at the word burdens. “I’m sorry,” she said. She shoved her way past him, down the hall, and into the elevator that was just about to close.
He didn’t come after her. Kylie squeezed her eyes shut, willing her tears to wait until she got into the cab waiting to take her to the airport.
She almost made it, too.
TWENTY
One week later
“How’s Daphne doing?” Cade asked Carmela as he dodged taxis, crossing a busy intersection in Manhattan. “She adjusting?”
“She’s doing really well,” Carmela said cheerfully. “Smoking like a damn chimney, but I figure we can tackle one thing at a time. Oh, and she’s cranky and irritable as hell, but overall, she’s doing well.” She paused for a moment. “She’d say hello, but she’s currently got her head in the toilet.”
He smiled to hear that. At least someone’s life was turning around. “Tell her the vomiting goes away soon enough and she’ll be happier for it.”
A pause. “She says fuck you, and she can handle it,” Carmela said, and chuckled. “Seriously though, things are good. Well, mostly. I’m going to go get you some more smokes, Daph,” Carmela called, and he heard her walking on the other end of the phone. She must have had something to tell him that she didn’t want Daphne to hear.
He’d hired Carmela onto his own payroll, doubling her pay so she’d report back to him no matter her loyalty to Daphne. He wanted the full truth of what was going on, not a glossed-over version. And Carmela was good at reporting back.
A moment later, he heard a door close on the other end of the phone and Carmela sighed. “Okay.”
“What’s wrong?” Cade asked, stepping into an alcove in front of a closed storefront so he could continue the conversation privately.
“So . . . it’s that dick. Mr. Powers. Remember you hired a new manager for Daph last year? Well, the label didn’t like him and booted him almost right away. They replaced him with Mr. Powers, and he’s a bit of a control freak. Like, he’s the one that had me give Daph the oxy to keep her on a leash. Said it was less dangerous than any of the street stuff she could score, and she could still perform with it.” Carmela paused.
Cade frowned. “He’s not trying to give her more drugs, is he?”
“No, not yet. But here’s the thing. He came by yesterday and made her cry. Told her she was costing the label a fortune and she was a piece of shit, and how she was a drain on finances and she’d let down her fans. That she was a laughingstock. He said she had a week to get clean and then he’d expect her back in the studio if she couldn’t finish her tour.”
“What? She’s supposed to be in rehab for at least a month.”
“I know,” Carmela said worriedly. “Daph said he was full of shit and just throwing his weight around, but he really upset her. Made her cry a little, and then she spent the rest of the afternoon chain-smoking and staring out the window. Took a lot of pep talks to get her in a good mood today.” She sighed. “That fucking label, man. I knew the contracts were evil and all, but shit. I thought ours were bad just because we were the little peons. I bet Daphne’s is horrible, too. She’s hinted as much. No wonder she’s such a stress monkey.”
He frowned into his phone. “The last thing she needs right now is the label hounding her.”
“I know. But what can you do? I’d say appeal to his higher-ups but I think he is the higher-ups.”
He’d see about that. “Let me handle it.”
“I just don’t want them to do to Daph what they did to Kylie, you know?”
He stilled. “What did they do to Kylie, exactly?” He still ached every time he thought of her. Kept checking his phone in the vain hope that she’d text or call. Something. But it was utter silence on that front. And a week later? He still wasn’t fucking over it. He was still raw and miserable and wanting desperately to understand why she’d abandoned him. He’d hoped for more from her.
“You know? The whole ‘making her pay for the canceled concerts’ thing. I know she was freaking out over the money. I think she must have big debts or something. She was really, really upset. Frantic, even.”
“Was she?” He kept his tone mild. It was either that, or lose his shit.
“Yeah,” Carmela said, obviously not realizing Cade’s change in attitude. “I’m pretty sure they nailed her for both of Daph’s missed concerts. Chewed her up and spit her out. And you know she doesn’t like to be a burden.”
“I know,” he said softly. There’s nothing I hate worse than being an obligation to someone. Her horrible ex had taught her that if she wasn’t bringing in money, she was worthless.
Maybe this was why Kylie had abandoned him.
“Let me handle this,” he said again, suddenly filled with a new determination to purchase a record company.
—
The good thing about being filthy rich? You got to take over the bad guys.
Oh, he didn’t buy the record label outright. But he let the right parties know that he’d be buying enough stock for the majority share, and then when he’d acquired enough, called a meeting.
It gave him an intense amount of satisfaction to fire Mr. Powers. The man looked shocked, but Cade had also had his lawyers look over Daphne’s contract and Kylie’s both, and he learned a whole fucking lot in the next week. Like he learned that Daphne’s album sales were better than anyone else’s with the label, but the label was also taking a bigger percentage than with some of the other acts.
Cade installed one of his lawyers in management, set him to fixing a few things, and let it be known that he was taking a personal interest in Daphne Petty’s career from this point forward, and no decisions were to be made without his okay.
And since he had enough money to throw around, they had to listen to him.
When he told Daph that he was shaking things up at the label and they’d no longer pressure her, she burst into tears. That told him everything he needed to know. He told her to take her time, get well, and she’d have her career—and the full support of the label he now ran—behind her when she was ready to return to it, be it in ten weeks or ten years.
It was the least he could do for his friend.
He also removed the atrocious clause in Kylie’s contract, had the payroll office cut a new check for her, and had it sent to his office so he could personally deliver it, along with their apologies for the “misunderstanding.”
If Kylie was so worried about money and wouldn’t take his? He’d at least make sure she had hers.
But he wanted her to talk to him, first.
—
“You sure you’re okay?” Star asked. “Your aur
a is very troubled.”
Kylie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Star meant well. She really, truly did. It was just that Kylie wasn’t in the mood for anyone’s concern, especially not a horoscope devotee’s who was about to spout a pithy saying about her energies. Instead, she dug into her curly fries and tried not to think about it. “Just bummed,” she told her. “I was hoping we’d find more stuff at estate sales today.”
Her nana’s coat had fetched double the expected price on eBay so she and Star had taken the additional money and hit up estate sales this morning in the hopes of finding new stuff to sell while Kylie was between jobs. Now, four hours and four dead people’s houses later, they had a few trinkets and not much else to show for their trouble, so they’d stopped to grab lunch before heading home.
Star just shrugged, her fringed shirt shivering with her movements. “Sometimes you hit the mother lode, and sometimes you find nothing but smelly old shoes and Tupperware.”
Well, that was certainly true. “Maybe I’m just not cut out to do the estate sale thing. I should probably take the rest of the money and see if they’ll let me put a down payment on what I owe for Nana’s living situation. I don’t want her to be a burden.” She choked on the word. Or at least, a burden to anyone else.
“They’re not going to care unless you have the full dollar amount!” Star exclaimed. “Will you quit worrying? They’re not going to toss your senile grandma out onto the streets because you’re a month behind.” She paused. “It’ll probably be two months. Maybe three.”
Kylie groaned. “Thanks.”
One Night With a Billionaire Page 23
