by Rowe, Lauren
Nadine at the back of the room shakes her head sharply, telling our host it’s not yet time to shift focus to the other judges. And Sunshine, pro that she is, instantly changes course. “Actually, the floor still belongs to Savage and Laila! Any other questions for our happy couple?”
A reporter yells, “Laila, what did you think when you found out Savage had let the cat out of the bag about your relationship to Sheree Dawson—the influencer who then made that viral video? Were you mad? Sheree’s got a huge following and notoriously loves Savage and Fugitive Summer, so he must have known she’d post something.”
“To be clear,” Savage interjects, before I’ve replied, “I had no idea who she was. But I do admit I was drunk and bursting at the seams to tell the world about Laila and me by then. So, you do the math. I’m not known for making sound decisions on my best day—but particularly not when I’ve been drinking.”
The entire room chuckles. Surely, all of them thinking of Savage’s naked swan dive into that hotel pool.
“What exactly did you say to Sheree, Savage?” the reporter asks.
“I said she reminded me of Laila, which she did,” Savage replies. “And I guess, once I said Laila’s name to her, it was like I’d broken the seal or something—and, suddenly, I couldn’t stop myself from babbling everything about us.”
“Adrian’s always got loose lips when he drinks,” I say, pinching Savage’s chiseled cheek. “But I wasn’t mad at him when I saw the video. In fact, I thought it was sweet he couldn’t keep our secret any longer. I mean, my boyfriend spilled the beans while turning down a woman who was flirting with him. What girlfriend could be mad about that, at the end of the day?”
After a few more questions, Sunshine steers the conversation away from Savage and me toward Aloha and Jon for a bit—although, in keeping with today’s apparent theme, the first reporter called upon asks Aloha and Jon what they think of the addition of Savage and me to the show.
As Aloha and Jon talk, my mind wanders. It seemed preposterous to think Savage might have mentioned my name, at all, to that Instagrammer when I first saw the video. I assumed she was chasing her fifteen minutes of fame. But after hearing Savage’s smooth explanation of what supposedly went down—it seems logical that he might have at least commented on how much she looks like me. Could the story he told just now be based on a kernel of truth? Surely, she misheard Savage when he went on to say he had to “lay low” because of the show. But is it possible Savage thought of me when he saw that woman, and then actually said my name to her?
“Hey, Savage,” a reporter says, jerking me from my thoughts. “Are there any songs about Laila on your band’s upcoming album?”
“No,” Savage says, and I sigh with relief. “The album was written before Laila and I got together.”
Another reporter asks, “Are you two planning to release any music together, now that the world knows about you?”
To my surprise, Reed Rivers, who’s been standing at the back of the room next to Nadine Collins, answers before Savage or me. “They are!” Reed calls out. “Stay tuned for details.”
“They’re going to premiere a song during the finale!” Nadine shouts.
And that’s that. I look at Savage, as if to say, Well, that took a turn, and he smiles mischievously, letting me know he’s on board for this brazen money grab. I don’t blame him, really. If someone swooped in and unexpectedly snaked two million bucks out of my pocket, I’d be down to make some of it back with a hit song, too. Especially one advertised and performed on national TV.
A reporter stands and introduces herself to Savage and me as a writer for a popular women’s magazine. She says, “I know my readers would love to know what you two love about each other, if you wouldn’t mind speaking to that.”
“Savage?” I say, feeling my heart rate spike. How can I possibly answer that question, even for pretend?
But Savage is the portrait of ease and charm. He says, “Actually, this is an easy one. Obviously, Laila is physically gorgeous. I love that she looks like she could murder me in my sleep, right after coming home from cheerleading practice.”
Everyone in the room, including me, chuckles at that description.
“Also, she’s incredibly talented,” he continues. “I can’t tell you how many times she’s given me goosebumps with her voice. But, at the end of the day, it’s Laila’s personality that attracts me the most. I love that she’s tough and fierce, but also a softie. In fact, Laila can be downright goofy, once you get to know her. Like, when she misses a shot in a game of HORSE, for example, she’ll fall to the ground and writhe around like she’s been shot.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. How’d Savage know about that? He was nowhere near the basketball court when I did that at Reed’s party. Or, at least, not that I saw. Wasn’t he hitting on that pretty Asian woman by the pool around that time?
Savage’s dark eyes locked with mine, he says, “I also love how close Laila is with her family—her mom, sister, and baby niece. How easily she makes friends. During our tour, everyone loved Laila. Musicians, makeup artists, roadies, caterers, bus drivers. Everyone. Laila even went to weekly game nights with the crew. But did they invite me, even once? Nope.”
“You’re a huge star,” I say. “It was nothing personal.”
“That’s not why, Laila. They invited you because you make every person you meet feel special. Like they’re your friend. That’s a rare gift—and one I certainly don’t possess.”
Heat is wafting between us. Without thinking about it, I lean in and give Savage a peck on the lips. Even if that speech was a load of complete crap, it’s making my heart flutter and sending butterflies into my belly. Without hesitation, Savage grabs my face and turns my peck into a whopper of a kiss—a deep and passionate one that sends electricity scorching into every nerve ending of my body while setting off fireworks in my abdomen.
The assembled press in the room variously titters and whoops. Cameras begin clicking furiously, capturing every moment of our kiss.
“Wow, guys,” Sunshine Vaughn says, when Savage finally releases me from his hungry lips. “I’m swooning here, right along with Laila.”
I look down at the table, breathing hard, realizing Sunshine is right: I’m physically swooning. Literally, dizzy with adrenaline and excitement. And not only because of the passionate kiss Savage bestowed upon me, in front of the world, but also because of the speech he gave right before it. Were any parts of Savage’s speech based in truth—or was all of it for show?
Sunshine says, “Your turn, Laila. What do you love about Savage?”
I force my blushing face to address Savage. His cheeks are flushed. His dark eyes sparkling. I take a deep breath and say, “Well, he’s obviously physically gorgeous, as you can see, and incredibly talented and charismatic and charming. The whole world is in love with this man, for all of those reasons, so it shouldn’t be hard to understand why I feel the same way.”
There. I did it.
Sunshine says, “But what’s something we don’t know about him, that you do? Something you find endearing about your boyfriend, behind closed doors?”
Fuck.
Seriously?
I look into Savage’s dark eyes again, and realize this question isn’t all that difficult to answer, after all. A day ago, it would have been impossible. But after the conversation I had with Savage on Reed’s patio a few minutes ago, I feel like there’s a whole other side to Adrian Savage I didn’t appreciate before.
“Well, I love how devoted Adrian is to his family,” I say, looking into Savage’s soulful, dark eyes. “His family is his top priority and he’d do anything for them. I don’t think everyone knows that about him.” Images of Savage from during the tour flash across my mind, making me realize I’d witnessed his softer side, many times. I just didn’t give those aspects of his personality their proper due, up until now. I continue, “Savage will do anything for his friends.” I chuckle. “Including drunkenly jumping naked into a
hotel swimming pool as a friend’s birthday gift.”
Everyone in the room laughs with glee.
“He’s also surprisingly goofy. The same as me, actually. He doesn’t do it all that often—but, on occasion, Savage belly laughs with those closest to him. And when he does, it’s the sweetest, most endearing sound you’ll ever hear. It’s like the clouds part when Adrian Savage laughs from the depths of his soul, and the entire world is bathed in glorious sunshine.”
Savage’s chest heaves. His nostrils flare. His body language reflecting back to me how I’m feeling as I stare into his chocolate eyes.
I swallow hard. “Adrian is protective and supportive, too. He tells me to demand what I’m worth and not settle for anything less. He’s also a thoughtful boyfriend. He knows I can’t stand the smell or taste of cigarettes, so he quit smoking, just for me. When I was sick, he took care of me. Held my hair for me when I threw up.” I bite my lower lip. “And, of course, it doesn’t hurt that he’s literally the sexiest man on Earth.” I press my lips together, signaling that’s all I’ve got, and Savage leans in and kisses me again—this time, even more passionately than before.
The crowd applauds, while Sunshine, our host, laughingly says, “Hey, it’s a family show, guys.”
Savage and I break apart, both of us breathing hard, and as the place explodes with raucous applause, Savage lays his palm on my thigh under the table, letting me know his arousal is most definitely not for show.
“Okay, before these two need a room,” Sunshine says, “I think we’d better get our mentors out here. Four judges this season means four mentors! And here they are!” She motions to the side door and calls out each mentor’s name, one by one, and they appear in order and stand behind their respective judge at the table.
There are a flurry of questions for the group—but, thankfully, no curveballs or surprises—and, finally, Sunshine wraps things up.
“Thank you for coming today! Full promo packages have been sent to you via email.”
I look at Savage, ready to flash him a look of relief that the press conference is over, but he’s eyeing my mentor behind me like he’s plotting murder.
“Hey,” I whisper sharply, squeezing Savage’s thigh, and he turns around and smiles at the crowd again. But it’s too late. His jealousy was on full display. Clearly, he’s trying to figure out why the producers chose Colin, of all people—a drummer known more for his recent underwear campaign than his singing—as my mentor. And I must admit, I’m wondering the same thing. Colin and I have never been anything but friends. But there’s no denying our chemistry. Also, I can’t help remembering I offered up Colin on Sylvia as someone I’ve been wrongly linked with, right before I denied the rumors about Savage and me. Did the producers notice that little detail, too?
“Back to the greenroom, guys,” a PA says to the cast. And, in short order, all eight of us exit the press conference and head back into Reed’s game room. The minute we get to our destination, I begin walking toward Colin, intending to ask him what the producers said to him when they hired him. Did they mention what I said on Sylvia as one of the reasons they’d picked him? But before I’ve reached Colin, Nadine, the executive producer of the show, hugs me and pulls me over to Savage.
“You two are geniuses!” Nadine blurts, her angular face aflame. “We had extremely high expectations about you two this season. But now that I’ve seen the goosebumps you’re capable of delivering, I can already tell we didn’t aim nearly high enough.”
Five
Laila
I’m sitting next to Savage in the backseat of a large, black SUV with tinted windows, headed toward whatever home the producers have secured as our fake love nest for the next three months. The same driver and bodyguard from yesterday are seated up front. Savage is looking out the window on his side of the car. And I’m freaking out.
Which parts of Savage’s speech during the press conference—the one where he itemized all the things he supposedly “loves” about me—were based in truth? For my part, every word I said about Savage in my speech was tethered to truth. I don’t love Savage, obviously, but now that I know about his devotion to his ailing grandma—like, seriously, where did that come from?—I realize he’s not quite the monster I’d come to believe by the end of the tour. In fact, I think he might be a whole lot more like the dude I shared a bottle of whiskey with in Providence, than the asshole who tore me a new one in Atlanta.
Also, those two kisses Savage and I shared during the press conference are messing with my head. I’ve never swooned so hard in my life as I did during those kisses! My brain knew it was all for show, but my heart exploded like a nuclear bomb. I felt urgency and need in Savage’s lips and tongue. I felt passion. And now, as I sit here next to Savage, driving to who-knows-where, I’m realizing, much to my dismay, I’m in for a very confusing three months, exactly as Aloha warned.
I look at Savage sitting next to me to find him tapping on his phone with a cute little smile on his face—the kind of grin I’ve seen on him only when he’s interacting with one of his bandmates, but especially with Kendrick or Ruby.
“Are you texting with Kendrick?” I venture, looking for any excuse to start a conversation.
Savage looks up, still looking adorable. “My cousin, Sasha. She lives with our grandmother in Chicago. They watched the press conference and now my cousin is texting in all caps.” He snorts. “She’s so funny. Both Sasha and my grandma are losing it about the ‘amazing girlfriend’ I’ve never bothered to tell them about.”
I glance at the two men at the front of the car and lean in to whisper. Surely, our companions are bound by an ironclad non-disclosure agreement, but better safe than sorry. “What are you telling your family about our ‘relationship’?”
Savage flushes a deep crimson, telegraphing the answer to my question is: I’ve let them believe we’re an actual couple.
“You haven’t told them the truth?” I whisper.
He shakes his head, looking sheepish. “I was going to give my cousin a heads-up about us before the press conference, but I got distracted when I ran into Kendrick and found out he’d sent you the album. And now, they’re both so excited about everything . . .” He exhales. “Mimi—my grandma—she’s my father’s mother—she always says she wants me to settle down and find the ‘great love of my life,’ the kind she had with her husband, Jasper, who died young. Apparently, after watching the press conference, Mimi told Sasha she felt like she could finally stop worrying about me, now that I’ve found a woman who can ‘see past all that silly rock star business’ to the ‘real me.’” He chuckles. “Apparently, that comment you made about my laugh ‘parting the clouds,’ or whatever you said, made quite an impression on Mimi.”
I chuckle with him. “Honestly, I’m relieved you haven’t told your family the truth about us. It makes it a whole lot easier for me to ask you to lie to my family about us for the next three months.”
Savage laughs. “You haven’t told your family the truth, either?”
I shake my head. “I could tell my sister, but my mom is always on me about my supposedly horrible taste in men. I’m hoping our ‘blissful relationship’ will give me a breather from constantly hearing about how I need to stop falling for jerks and find myself someone ‘nice’ who ‘treats me right.’”
“Your supposedly horrible taste in men?” Savage scoffs. “If Malik is any indication, there’s no ‘supposedly’ about it, Fitzy.”
I bite back a smile. Is it wrong of me to continue letting Savage think I had an actual relationship with Malik—and even more so that said relationship lasted well beyond Malik’s horrible behavior in New York? If so, I don’t want to be right. Not when Savage banged that flirty waitress in New York the very same night I kicked Malik to the curb.
“Are you sure your mom wouldn’t think I’m further evidence of your horrible taste in men?” Savage asks, his eyebrow raised.
“Well, yes, normally you would be. You’re exactly my type—which isn’
t a compliment. But after all that amazing stuff you said about me during the press conference, my mother and sister are convinced I’ve finally found the perfect man who totally gets the real me. So, if you don’t mind, I’d be grateful for you to play along whenever I talk to my family, in exchange for me playing along when you talk to yours.”
“Deal. Although I should mention, I sing Mimi to sleep on FaceTime, pretty much every night when I’m not on tour.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet. Don’t worry. I’d love to say hi to your grandma, every single night.”
Savage shoots me a smolder that flash-melts my panties. “Thank you.”
“You’re paying me two million bucks. It’s the least I can do.”
Savage grabs my hand. “Let’s not talk about the money anymore, okay? I’m over it. Your agent was right—this is an equal partnership. I was an asshole to whine about it.”
I look into his dark eyes, feeling my heart beating like a hummingbird’s. “No, you weren’t. It was a huge and unexpected pay cut for you. It was only natural for you to feel upset about it. I tell you what. To help you recoup some of the money you’re paying to me, why don’t you leave my name in ‘Hate Sex High’ and make it your leadoff single? The song is amazing, and with all the publicity swirling around us, I bet that sexy little Easter egg buried in the mix will give the song even more buzz. It might even become your biggest hit yet.”
Savage looks excited. “Are you sure you don’t mind your name being in there?”
“Ha! You admit you sang my name!”
“No, I’m merely adopting your crazy megalomaniacal version of reality for the purposes of my question.”
He’s so full of it. Any sane human would hear my name at the end of those “la la” parts, as clear as a bell. But there’s no point in arguing with him. He’ll obviously never concede the point. “Yes, I’m sure,” I say. “After what you said about me at the press conference, everyone thinks you’re desperately in love with me. So, in that case, I’m now thinking it’d be kind of cool for people to think I’m not only the great love of your life, I’m also the freak in the sheets you made come three times. Plus, like I said, the smartest move in terms of marketing is making that song the leadoff single, with my name all over it.”
