by Elle Viviani
A muscle in his neck jumps. He takes a quick glance over my shoulder before stepping toward me. “Listen, I—”
“Ms. Hart, I am not finished with you!”
Billie’s shrill cry breaks us apart. Bryce takes a quick step back as I whirl around.
“Get your butt in this chair right now,” Billie demands, shooing at me with a manicured hand. His scowl breaks slightly as he spots Bryce. “Sorry, cutie, but she’s mine for the next twenty minutes.”
I nod a cold goodbye to Bryce and shut the door between us. I know I have to deal with Cody crossing the line again, but all I can focus on is how my best friend doesn't seem to trust me. I'm tired of defending myself--and I'm beyond tired of fighting with my manager.
Sometimes I wonder if it'd be easier to just give in.
While Billie plucks, prods, and teases me to perfection, I wonder what Bryce was about to say. Yesterday I felt like he touched me because he couldn’t bear not to. And just now he looked at me like he wanted me, desperately.
I thought the fantasy I created when I was ten years old would fade with time, but of course it hadn’t. It hit me full force the moment Bryce walked back into my life. And now it was a runaway train—one sharp turn (or smoldering look) away from flying off the rails.
Chapter 14
Bryce
The cities pass by in a blur. Savannah, Charleston, Charlotte, Greensboro, Raleigh, Richmond. We’re over halfway through the tour by the time we reach Washington, D.C.
The more cities we hit, the further withdrawn Autumn becomes. She hasn’t picked up her guitar since Atlanta, having traded her complicated fingerwork for complicated dancing. And when she isn’t on stage or at some press event, she’s on her bus, scribbling away in the notebook she keeps on her at all times.
Every time I’ve tried to talk to her about Atlanta, Jensen would appear. He’s back to his old ways. He’d colored within the lines for a while but inevitably started pushing Autumn back into the arms of Sunny Records. She’s a woman divided, and it’s beginning to show.
I glance into the recording studio that we’ve been at since noon. Autumn stands behind a microphone, one hand pressing against her headphones while the other holds a sheet of paper. Sunny Records had booked her some studio time, but Autumn wasn’t here to record her songs. She was here to try out theirs.
Words pour out of Autumn as her eyes trace the lyrics across the page, and based on the sour look on her face, she’s hating every single word.
“You’re my sugar, my sweet, sweet sugar…” Autumn takes a deep breath and hits the next line. “I go into shock if I don’t get a taste—”
She breaks off with a scowl, and the producer cuts the beat as she rips off her headphones. Cody hurries over to the door leading into the recording space and slips through it. His voice comes over the speaker a second later. “Why’d you stop? You were doing great.”
Autumn laughs. “For real? Did you hear what I sang?”
“Of course.”
“Well, what does it even mean!”
“Autumn, come on…”
One by one, the production crew slips out of the sound booth until only Zoe and I are left. Zoe throws me an “oh shit” look, and then slips into the studio. As the door shuts behind her, I turn my attention to the blowup happening on the other side of the glass.
“It doesn’t matter,” Cody’s pleading. “What matters is that this will sell.”
Autumn starts pacing the spacious studio. “I don’t know about this.”
“I love it. The record label loves it. The producers love it.” Cody flicks up his shoulders. “What’s the matter?”
“So many things. To start, I didn’t write it. And then there’s the rhythm…” Her eyes bulge as she fake gags.
Zoe presses her lips together as a laugh bubbles out of her throat. “Wow, boss, why don’t you tell us how you really feel.”
Autumn whirls around. “So you disagree?”
“I didn’t say that,” Zoe says quickly. She frowns at Cody’s evil look. “What? This is so not Hart’s style.”
Autumn closes her eyes and sighs. “Thank you.”
Cody takes one look at the two of them and holds up a hand. “Let’s take a break. Then we’re gonna get back to this because we promised them a track.”
“No way. I’ve already been at this for three hours, Cody. I have a show tonight.”
“And you’re going to thank me when you dazzle your fans with this new track!”
Autumn’s mouth tightens. “Maybe not. I’m having serious doubts about this song now that I’ve heard it.”
Cody looks at the ceiling. “Perfect, just perfect. I’m going to get some air.”
I step aside as he comes barreling through the door. He gives me a cursory glance before heading for the hall. “Keep your eyes on her. She’s in a mood.”
I don’t feel the need to reply.
Zoe walks over to Autumn and says something I can’t make out. When Autumn shakes her head, Zoe pats her on the shoulder and then heads for the sound booth.
“What a nightmare,” Zoe sighs, shutting the door behind her. “I’m gonna get her a smoothie even though she’s not hungry. She’s not eating a lot these days.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Zoe glances up at me. “Not a lot gets past you.”
“Not when it’s important.”
We both watch Autumn walk over to the gleaming string of guitars lining the far wall. She reaches out and runs her fingers along the frets as she walks the line, one slow step after another.
“I’m guessing she’s an important one,” Zoe says quietly.
Autumn slows to a stop, her eyes resting on the peacock-blue Fender third from the end. Life breathes into her sullen face as she glides a hand across the glossy finished wood and shiny metal strings.
“Yes. She is.”
Zoe gives me a long look that I don’t meet, and then heads for the exit.
I watch Autumn enjoy a rare moment of privacy as she gets to know the guitar now resting in her hands. Her lips are curved up in a secretive smile, eyes soft and faraway, body relaxed and at ease. Suddenly, I’m in her shoes as I watch her through the glass. Never alone. Watched like a hawk. Everyone always wanting something from her. She’s a prisoner of her own fame.
Autumn slings the shoulder strap over her head and walks over to the chair by the microphone. I ease back into the shadows when she turns to peer through the glass, giving her the privacy she wants. Seeing no one, she slides onto the stool, adjusts the guitar in her lap, and strums her fingers over the strings. Then she closes her eyes and begins to sing.
“You walked away on a warm night in June. My skin was strong, but my heart was bruised.”
A prickling sensation starts in my chest and expands outward. I’ve never heard this song, but something tells me I’m going to know all the words.
“There I stood, heart in hand, prayin’, wishin’ you’d be my man. But instead, it’s me and the cold-hearted moon…”
Autumn leans forward and pours her voice into the microphone.
“Cold-hearted moon, cold-hearted moon! You don’t answer my heartbroken tune! Like my love, you left me high. Like my love, you left me dry. And now it’s my turn to say goodbye.”
She leans back and strums out a few melodic chords.
“A letter here, a phone call there. Just enough to show you cared. I fell apart, I needed you, but your reply was always ‘soon.’ Boy, that’s not enough to ease an aching heart…”
My entire body goes still as the words hit me full in the chest. There’s no doubt left who this song’s written about.
“Cold-hearted moon, cold-hearted moon! You walked too far, too long, too soon! Why do I still dream about your face when you left me without a trace? Oh, look how far I’ve fallen from grace.”
A bitterness comes into her face as she leans forward.
“And suddenly you’re here to stay? Picking up like you never went away. Then expect me
to fall in line and play, while holding judgements your mouth won’t say.”
Her voice goes hard as her fingers strike the metal strings.
“Well, honey, time don’t work like that. Well, darlin’, friends don’t go tit for tat. Well, baby—”
A sharp chord rings out as her fingers slip. Her breath hitches in her throat and she closes her eyes. When she opens them again, I see a horrible sadness in their depths.
“Well, baby,” she sings softly, “love don’t feel like that.”
Before the chords have dissipated, Autumn’s arm drops limply from the guitar before she brings her hand to her eyes. She stays like that for a moment, hunched into herself, head bowed, before slowly reaching for the shoulder strap.
For a long moment, I don’t move. I can’t. Then Autumn’s words hit me like a ton of bricks. I step to the door and wrench it back. My feet can’t move fast enough as I put some distance between myself and the woman who leveled my walls with one song. One damn song.
My eyes scan the offices around me, seeing but not seeing. I’m in the past, witnessing that night at the bonfire from another pair of eyes. Eyes that didn’t understand why I had to distance myself from my best friend. Eyes that were brimming with tears a few moments ago.
One thing burrows deep into my heart as I slump against the hallway wall: looks like I’m the one that left, after all.
Chapter 15
Autumn
“It’s my decision,” I say for the fourth time, and for the fourth time, Cody brushes my words aside with a wave of his hand.
“Don’t you think we should talk about this?”
“Like we’ve been talking about it for the last hour? I’m never singing that awful song again.”
“They loved it!”
A dry laugh crosses my lips. “They hated it!”
Cody stops and looks at me. “As your manager, I’m telling you that you’re making a mistake.”
“Too bad. The song is horrible. But I’d be happy to sing something else that I get to write.”
“That’s just not going to happen,” he says matter-of-factly.
“And that’s what I don’t understand. Why?”
Cody walks to the mini fridge under my TV. “Because that’s not the way Sunny Records rolls.”
“Then then maybe Sunny Records isn’t for me.”
His hand pauses on its way to a Stella. “You don’t mean that.”
“Maybe I do. I don’t like how I’m being pushed around. I haven’t even signed with them and they’re already dictating my every move. They won’t let me write my own stuff until I’ve done it their way first, and even then, how sure am I that they’ll loosen the reins?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. I mean, is all this stress worth it?”
He snorts in disbelief. “Of course it is.”
“But maybe it’s not.” I get up and start to pace. “What do I get out of this deal that I don’t already have?”
“A fuckton of money!” Cody bellows.
My world shifts slightly in the silence that follows. Cody clamps his mouth shut and looks away. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
I glare at him. “I’d say. What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing. I just hate to see you walk away from such a great opportunity.”
I narrow my eyes. “What do you really mean?”
“What I said,” he answers quickly. “Why, don’t you believe me?”
My world shifts a little further. I clear my throat and ask the first question that pops into my head. “Cody, do you care what I think?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“One that I never asked myself until now.”
Cody grows agitated. “Well, the answer’s yes.”
Uncertainty slashes through me, stronger now than ever before. “I don’t know. I mean, do you really listen to me? My opinions?”
A look of alarm flashes across his light brown eyes. He steps toward me and gently takes me by the shoulders. “Look, how about I try to work some deal with Sunny—see if I can get them to consider letting you write the lyrics.”
“And the beat,” I add. Skepticism twists Cody’s face. “I’m done playing their game. I feel like a puppet, and as of right now, I’m cutting the goddamn strings.”
“Whoa now,” Cody begins.
“Don’t,” I say with renewed strength. “I’m not backing down from this one.”
His eyes narrow as he studies me. Nothing prepares me for what comes next.
“You’re being a bitch, Autumn.”
I stop breathing. Everything slows as I stare at the man in front of me. He looks relaxed, in control, like he didn’t just rip out my heart and nail it to the wall.
Asshole.
My voice is flat and humorless when I find it. “Anything else?”
All I get’s a scowl.
“Great.” In a daze, I snatch up my purse and sling it over my head. My steps are unsteady as I cross the room to the door. “Then you’re fired.”
“What?” he asks through clenched teeth. “You’re joking! I’ve given you everything you wanted!”
“And some that I didn’t want,” I mutter before raising my voice. “You have forty-eight hours to put your things in order. I’m sure you can see yourself out.”
Cody looks like he’s been hit by a bus. “Who…who’s going to run your tour?”
I shrug. “Zoe.”
He scoffs. “That’s career suicide! She doesn’t know a single thing about the business.”
“She’s a quick learner, and most importantly, she listens to me.”
Cody gives a humorless laugh.
“Good luck,” he sneers.
I stop in the doorway and turn. “Honestly, Cody? I’d save all the luck for yourself. Something tells me you’re going to need it.”
The moment I’ve slammed the door between us, I reach into my purse and pull out my phone.
Me: First, you’ve just been promoted. Cody’s ass is grass and you’re my interim manager now. CONGRATULATIONS!
Me: Second, where’s Bryce?
Zoe’s reply comes instantly. She’s already slaying it.
Zoe: WHAT?
Zoe: He’s out with an old military friend—air force I think? Why, do you need him? Because he thought he had the afternoon off
Zoe: NOW CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS?
Me: Can’t talk now and you’ll be great! I promise! And everything’s fine, I just need to talk to him. Can I get the address?
Zoe: STILL FREAKING OUT HERE
Zoe: Clyde’s in Georgetown, M street
As I step into the elevator, I remind myself to get her a “Best Assistant/Interim Manager Ever” mug for Christmas. I’ll have one made if they don’t exist.
My phone dings as the elevator doors glide open.
Zoe: On second thought, is there a raise that comes with this promotion-from-hell?
Me: You betcha, and you can name your price! Does that make it better? Come on, you’re basically managing me already!
Zoe: I may have a few tricks up my sleeve… OMG FINE
Zoe: And no drinking this afternoon. You have a show tonight, missy!
I stifle a laugh as I cross the well-lit lobby of the Mayflower Hotel. She’s a natural.
I tap my phone and pull up my driver’s info. The only person I want to see right now is my best friend. At least, I think we’re still friends. I’m not really sure these days (thank you very much, hormones).
I shake my head as my boots click against the polished marble floor. I am going to lose my mind if I try to tackle the “what are we now?” question that’s been running around my head for the last few days. Everything changed when Bryce walked back into my life, and I’ve been running from my feelings ever since.
Well, maybe it’s time to stop.
I push through the revolving door and step onto the bustling D.C. sidewalk just as my driver picks up. “Hey, Gary, it’s me. You up fo
r a trip to Georgetown?”
Because history needs to be rewritten.
Chapter 16
Autumn
Nine Years Ago
Dear Bry,
I don’t have an address to send this letter to yet, but I know I’ll go crazy if I don’t write down what’s running through my head.
WHAT THE HELL? I woke up this morning to find that you left early and without saying goodbye! Was it something I said or did to make you silently slip away? Did something happen at the bonfire last night? I know we were interrupted by Bart, but I told you not to leave. The tire marks from your truck must have been a mile long.
Are you in that much of a hurry to get away from me? Is Asheville truly that terrible that you couldn’t wait one goddamn day to say goodbye to someone closer to you than a sister?
Maybe you didn’t mean to inflict such pain, and I pray that I’ll get your first letter and find out that I’m overreacting. You will write and tell me why you left like that, right? Because I can’t stand facing down the unknown. Not without you by my side.
Talk soon,
Autumn
Eight and a Half Years Ago
Dear Bry,
Your one letter after fifteen of mine was a disappointment. It felt like you were talking to me through a tunnel. I know you’re going through a lot right now. Boot camp ain’t easy and I know it’s just the beginning of months of training. But I’m going through a lot, too, and it would help to have at least some of my burning questions answered.
I struggle to get out of bed in the morning. I struggle to smile. I struggle to find happiness in even the simplest things. Everything I do reminds me of you. Everywhere I go is haunted by your ghost—the ghost of us. Our friendship has marked every corner of this town, and living in it is like living in a nightmare. Except instead of having your strength to guide me, to draw from, I’m alone. Utterly alone.
You know the worst thing? It’s my feel of helplessness. It’s not knowing what’s going on in that head of yours. I thought I knew you, but now you’re an enigma. I wish I could corner you and force you to talk, but instead I’m relegated to waiting. Because I will wait, Bryce. I’ll never give up hope that you’ll explain why you walked out of my life and refuse to let me back in. Just let me back in.
