Autumn Nights

by Elle Viviani

  “Yeah…” Autumn bits her lip. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Billie scowl and pull out a tube of lipstick.

  Ophira stands and gestures offstage, her glitzy jewelry flashing under the stage lights. “And now, I’d like to invite our special guest out here to tell her side of the story. Please join me in welcoming a woman we all know—Autumn Hart!”

  Autumn plasters on a smile and starts walking. The audience cheers when she appears out from the curtain. Kendra had toned down the sexiness by selecting a simple yellow dress and Autumn’s favorite cowgirls boots, and it was a good call. Autumn looked comfortable and confident as she advanced on the grinning talk show host.

  “Thank you for joining me today, Autumn!” Ophira begins once they’ve both settled in. “I know these past few days haven’t been easy.”

  “They really haven’t, Ophira. You see, I’m finishing up a major tour right now, and these slanderous claims have been making it hard for me to focus on what’s important.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Autumn smiles at the audience. “My fans and my music. They’re what I cherish most, and unfortunately, Mr. Jensen is threatening that by his recent actions.”

  Ophira raises her perfectly-filled-in eyebrows. “So, you deny the headlines?”

  Autumn looks the talk show host dead in the eye. “Absolutely.”

  Ophira lets out a big breath as the crowd murmurs excitedly. “That is quite a statement! You’re telling me that you’re not ‘troubled’ or a ‘drunk’? That you’re not hiding a pill addiction from the world?”

  Autumn laughs softly. “Oh no. I’m afraid I’m far too boring for all that.”

  The crowd chuckles appreciatively.

  “And Mr. Jensen’s claims to having been threatened by you are false?” Ophira asks, narrowing her eyes.

  “One hundred percent,” Autumn declares. “In fact…” she leans forward “…I’d say the only truth coming out of Cody Jensen’s mouth right now is that I fired him.”

  Backstage, Michaela whirls around and glares at Zoe. “What’s she doing? She’s going off script!”

  “I don’t know!” Zoe starts frantically flipping through the talking points. “I made her promise not to, I swear.”

  “…tell you why I fired him,” Autumn is saying. “Cody used me and my fame to get where he wanted to go. It was all about money with him, and I won’t stand for that. That, and that alone, is why we parted ways, professionally.”

  Ophira’s black hair sweeps over her shoulder as she leans in. “And personally?”

  Autumn shrugs. “He was an awful boyfriend.”

  The crowd laughs. Michaela and Zoe look at each other in shock.

  “Uh, I guess it’s working?” Zoe says with a shrug. She snaps the document shut and smiles. “Let’s see where this goes, shall we?”

  A hush falls over the crowd as Ophira holds up a manicured hand. “I think I speak for all of us women when I say that you have a very handsome bodyguard. You’ve known him for quite some time, yes?”

  “Since before I could walk,” Autumn answers without skipping a beat. “We grew up together in Asheville.”

  Ophira’s megawatt smile widens. “And have you’ve seen the recent stories suggesting that you cheated on Cody Jensen with Bryce Hill?”

  If Autumn’s feeling the heat, she doesn’t show it.

  “I do know what you’re talking about, and if I may, I want to put that rumor to bed.”

  “Interesting choice of words…” The talk show host’s eyebrow wiggle gets a snicker out of the audience.

  “I have never cheated on Cody Jensen or anyone else,” Autumn says in a firm voice. “I would also like to add, that even though Bryce’s reputation is also being dragged through the mud, he’s stayed by my side. I owe him a lot for being strong during this tough time.”

  I smile. She nailed it.

  Ophira waits for the crowd to stop clapping before continuing. “Then you can understand why it’s difficult to believe that you two have a strictly platonic relationship.”

  Her eyes sparkle wildly under the bright lights as she fixes them on Autumn. My pulse quickens. I know that look. She’s taking the kill shot.

  Ophira draws out her next question in one slow breath. “Are you and Bryce Hill a couple?”

  The room goes dead quiet. Everyone is holding their breath as they wait for the music star to answer the rumors flying around.

  Autumn leans back and clears her throat, taking the time to readjust herself on the couch before speaking.

  “Bryce and I are—” she glances down before returning Ophira’s piercing gaze “—just friends. That’s all.”

  Just friends?

  The crowd lets out a collective sigh as the tense breaks. Ophira sits back, looking a little disappointed, but hiding it well. “Well, now that we have that out of the way, tell me more about this Cody Jensen. He sounds like a real piece of work to me…”

  The voices fades away as I try to get my head back on straight. A part of me knows that Autumn’s probably sticking to a script. But then, why does it hurt so much? And why did she have to lie?

  What was wrong with the truth?

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, jarring me from my thoughts—a good thing, since they weren’t headed anywhere safe.

  I take my cell out and stare at the screen. It takes a moment for my eyes to focus, and even longer for my brain to catch up.

  Chase: Hey, man. I talked to the CEO. You ready for an interview? Because you’ve got one

  I drag my gaze back to the stage. Autumn and Ophira are gossiping about all the crazy things their exes have done, and the audience is eating it up, laughing and clapping as the two women try to outdo the other.

  I look back down at my phone, re-reading the text one more time before slipping it back into my pocket unanswered.

  Am I ready?

  I don’t know. I don’t know about anything anymore.

  Chapter 25

  Autumn

  Two days later, I wake up feeling like a million bucks that’s been hit by a bus—an odd combination, and one that I don't wish on my worst enemy. (Cody included.)

  His name brings it all back: the headlines, the national interviews, sponsorships evaporating…

  My eyes fly open as I sit up. My first thought is What time is it? Based on the light streaming through my binds, later than it should be.

  My second thought is I hope someone’s remembered to feed Dolly her breakfast. I’ve been neglecting her these past few days while I try to save my sinking-ship of a career.

  Zoe scheduled two days of interviews and appearances on all major news outlets, canceling my show in West Virginia so I could stay in New York another day. I’d crashed hard and early last night, and after what must be fifteen hours of sleep later, I finally felt like I could think straight.

  I grab my towel off the hook behind the door, excavate my toiletry bag from underneath about five leather jackets (a tad too many, even for me), and slip on my robe. My room looks like a bomb went off, but I’ve barely had time to eat, let alone clean.

  I make it to the bathroom without seeing anyone, but I'm not so lucky on the return trip. I feel his presence behind me before he speaks.

  “Feeling better this morning…friend?”

  Uh oh.

  I force myself to turn around and meet his hurt eyes. I know this conversation is long overdue. Two days overdue, to be exact. I should have talked to Bryce after my statement on Ophira, but I literally haven’t had time.

  Bryce tried to bring it up when we got back to the bus last night, but I begged off. We were driving straight to Asheville from New York City, giving my statements a day to circulate, and I wanted to spend every moment of that drive passed out in bed.

  Looks like I did.

  “About that,” I begin quietly, glancing around for any listening ears, “you know I’m reading a script. I don’t mean any of it.”

  “A part of me knows that, but another part�
��”

  Every inch of my (now) squeaky clean skin heats up, and it has nothing to do with the scalding hot shower I just took. I’m ashamed, plain and simple. I’m lying on national networks about the one thing that I should be singing to the hills.

  “I wish all of you knew that. I’ve missed you, Bryce.” I lower my voice. “You didn’t come to bed last night or the night before.”

  With a slowness that sends a wave of slick heat through me, Bryce drags his eyes over my glistening skin. “Thought I’d only be in the way.”

  “In the way? That’s not—” I pause as voices float down to us from the front of the bus. Bryce and I meet eyes and then glance away.

  “Maybe this isn’t the place,” I suggest. And just in time, too.

  I turn as someone calls my name. Zoe’s purple hair pokes out of a bunk five feet away and swivels my way. “There you are! About time—it’s nearly noon. Someone slept in.”

  “Sorry?”

  The rest of her comes into view as she climbs out of the bunk.

  “Don’t apologize to me. Billie and Kendra have been itching to get their hands on you, but I’ve been fending them off so our star can get her beauty sleep.” She gives my wet hair and clean skin an appreciative nod. “Good, you’re halfway there.”

  “For what?” I ask wearily. Zoe has that ‘bionic manager’ look in her eye.

  “For putting your image back on track! So why we need Billie and Kendra to work their magic. Right now, you look like a hot mess.”

  I frown. “But I’m clean.”

  Zoe pulls out her notebook from the depths of her burnt orange sweater.

  Does she keep that thing strapped to her body?

  “And naked. We’re pulling into Asheville in an hour, so we don’t have much time.” Her eyes begin to glitter as they roam over the cramped pages. “Oh, honey, have I booked you a homecoming for the ages. PR ops, local appearances, even a photo shoot…”

  While my better-organizational-skills-than-Martha-Stewart-interim-manager rattles off a list of events, I discreetly turn back to Bryce.

  “I only said what I was told to say,” I say under my breath.

  When he finally answers, his voice is so low I almost miss it. “So, it’s just a game? An act?”

  “Yes. No.” I shake my head, sending water droplets everywhere, then stop when my temples begin to pound. I massage them as the past forty-eight hours catches up with me. “Listen, I’m barely awake, and I desperately need coffee—”

  I see movement to my left and turn. Having reached the end of her list, Zoe’s flagged down my stylists. Billie is advancing on me, flat iron in one hand, blow dryer in the other, with a determined look that I know well.

  “Uh…” I keep my eyes on Billie as I turn my head toward Bryce. Maybe this conversation needs to happen in private, and not on a tour bus full weaponized stylists. “Can we pick this up later?”

  “Later?” He stares at me. “I guess I’m used to waiting.”

  “Bryce—”

  Zoe’s hand reaches out and snags my arm. I throw him one last pleading look before I’m dragged away.

  The next thing I know, a large coffee is in my hand, six outfits are being paraded in front of me, and a blowdryer hums to life somewhere north of my head. I quiet the thoughts flying around my head, and try to focus.

  Another day in the ring. Another day dancing for the press. Another day putting out fires.

  Let’s do this.

  Ninety minutes later, the Escalade rolls to a stop. I look up from the ten-page briefing about my image rehabilitation (titled: “Annihilating Mini Pin”) that Zoe somehow had time to make me and peer out the window.

  “The Venue…?”

  I flinch back as my door opens. Bryce is on the other side, offering his hand to help me climb out, and I gladly accept. Kendra decided on a pair of tight jeans and over-the-knee boots for today’s craziness that made, well, moving a bit tricky.

  Zoe clambers out after me, also accepting Bryce’s hand and not letting go until he clears his throat a few times.

  “I’ll go do a perimeter sweep,” he mumbles, throwing me a veiled look before heading up the steps and disappearing inside.

  Guilt eats at me as I watch him disappear inside. I still hadn’t found time to talk to him.,

  Focus!

  I turn my gaze to the building in front of me. “This is a photo shoot, right? What kind, exactly?”

  “It’s a surprise,” Zoe says, already mounting the steps. “A good one.”

  “You know how I feel about surprises,” I say as I push through the double doors. “I find them…”

  Words leave me as I step inside of my dream home. Exposed brick walls, high ceilings, majestic views of the Smoky Mountains from the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows in front of me. It doesn’t stop there.

  The enormous loft is decorated to the nines. Ten linen-clad round tables dot the wood plank floor, covered with bright china dishes, sparkling champagne glasses, and overflowing bouquets of every color flower imaginable. In the center is a dance floor flanked by strings of twinkling lights and shiny strips of ivory silk.

  “Whoa,” I breathe, taking it all in. “Never mind. This. Is. Awesome.”

  “And this isn’t even the best part,” Zoe says, coming up behind me. “Just wait until you meet the wedding planner.”

  I stare at her. “This is a wedding?”

  “Only for the cameras, I’m afraid.”

  I whirl around at the sound of a very familiar voice. “Miranda?” I squeak out before I’m pulled into a crushing hug by my (other) best friend.

  My friendship with Miranda Asher is one that despite my hectic career and her brief stint as a lawyer, has survived over the last twenty years. We’ve been best friends since the day I saw her making bluish-green crayon soup in kindergarten. She needed a taste tester, and I volunteered. The rest is history.

  Including the part where I threw up all over Ms. McIntyre and had to stay home in bed for two days. That’s the start of a lifelong friendship, if you ask me.

  Her auburn hair grazes my cheek as we finally drag ourselves apart. She smells just like I remember: sweet and fresh as a warm summer breeze. “It’s been too long, Autumn. You look great, and I love your—wait, are you getting taller?”

  I laugh as she slides up next to me and starts comparing heights. It’s times like these that I wonder how I’ve stayed away from my hometown for two years. “I think it’s these deathtraps.”

  Her powder-blue eyes follow my finger down to my three-and-a-half-inch stilettos. “Got it. Well, they’re gorgeous, and they’ll work perfectly for this shoot.”

  “And what shoot is that?” I ask, turning back to Zoe.

  Zoe shrugs. “You know Suzie Hoffman, the wedding dress designer that does edgy stuff? Well, she wanted you to model her new line of gowns today and Miranda is her staging team. Cody wrote it off, but I didn’t.” She chews the inside of her cheek as she scrutinizes my face. “Are you mad?”

  “Am I mad?” I step forward and wrap my arms around my assistant. “This is the best thing ever!”

  Zoe tries to push me away, but I know she likes my bear hugs.

  Miranda stiffens next to me. Her face is white as a ghost as she looks over my shoulder. “Oh my, is that…”

  Bryce steps out of the shadows as her eyes go wide. “Hey, Miranda, remember me?”

  Miranda gives a little squeak as he brings her in for a hug. She grins up at him like an idiot when they break apart. “I haven’t seen you since high school, though I know all about your globe-trotting ways through Autumn.” She turns to me. “Could we have dinner? I’d be great to catch up.”

  My face falls. “Love to, but I’m slammed tonight with press interviews.”

  “Which is why I have you two hanging out here at the shoot,” Zoe chimes in, brandishing her phone like a weapon. She turns to Bryce as he opens his mouth. “Under the watchful eye of Mr. Hill, of course.”

  Bryce snaps his mouth sh
ut and nods. “That’s agreeable.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Zoe answers dryly. “Now, let me see what’s taking this photographer so long. He needs to hurry the hell up if we’re going to stay on schedule.”

  Miranda stifles a laugh as she walks off. “I may steal her away to work for me.” She winks at my horrified expression. “Kidding! Besides, I don’t think she’d dig my line of work.”

  I scan the off-beat setup that Miranda whipped up for my photoshoot. It’s full of bright colors, patterns, and fabrics instead of the customary white with more white. “I don’t know, Miranda, this is pretty kick-ass.” I eye the cobalt-blue bridal gown that Kendra’s pulling off the rack a few feet away. I want that beauty like I want chocolate cheesecake. “If I ever get married, I know who I’m hiring.”

  Bryce stirs next to me but stays silent. I had almost forgotten he was there. A first.

  “Miranda?” We turn as a tall, blonde-haired lady walks over to us. Based on her crisp white Oxford shirt and tight black pencil skirt, I peg her as an assistant. “Could you do one more sweep through for Suzie? She’s almost ready.”

  “Sure.” Miranda waves Bryce and me goodbye as she follows the blonde on set.

  I’m still reeling from seeing my old friend when Bryce speaks up next to me. “I’ll give you some space today.”

  “Oh. That’s not necessary…” I nibble my bottom lip as he turns to go. “Bryce, wait!” Stealing a look over my shoulder, I take a small step toward him. “It feels like you’re avoiding me.”

  “You have a lot going on,” he says, cagily.

  “It still feels like you’re avoiding me.”

  “I don’t want to be mad, but I’m only your bodyguard in public, remember?” Bryce drags a hand through his hair and lowers his voice to a gravelly rumble. “We’re just friends. A client relationship. So yeah, I’m avoiding you.”

  I shake my head. “What? No! That’s not how it…”

  Oh my God, he’s right.

  The fact that I can’t even finish that sentence does not do me any favors.

  Hurt is written all over Bryce’s face as he meets my gaze. He leans in, ducking his head slightly until his face is poised right above mine. The scent of coffee and soap fills my nostrils as everything around us fades away. “I…”