“Geesh. That was a bit dramatic,” Kiki said with a raised eyebrow.
“Too much?” I asked sheepishly.
“Too much, even for my taste. You practically butchered him over something that’s not really his call to make.”
I gnawed on my nails while I tried to figure out what to do. Hannah’s advice about apologizing popped into my head, and I knew I’d have to run down Harrison to make things right. I didn’t want him to be in trouble because of my diva-ness. “I’m going to say sorry to Harrison really quick.” Trotting over to the door, I swung it open and smacked into someone coming down the hallway.
I didn’t even wait for the stars to clear from my vision before I blurted my apologies. “Harrison? Oh my gosh! I’m sorry!” I sat up and shut the door only to find Mr. Drake, sitting on his rear end, too, glasses askew and a small trickle of blood oozing from his nose.
Chapter Twenty-Three
My heart stopped cold, and the rolling sensation I had in my stomach made me want to regurgitate my breakfast.
“Mr. Drake! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were there! Let me get you a tissue to wipe your nose. And your glasses!” I pulled them off his face and tried to reposition them on his nose, only to stab him in the eye. I might as well blacklist myself from the music industry right then and there.
Mandy came around the corner and seeing the predicament I’d gotten myself into, helped me hoist Mr. Drake back to his feet.
“It’s alright,” Mr. Drake said, though it came out a bit nasally. He wiped at the drip of blood, accepting a handful of tissues from Mandy, who was unfailingly prepared for anything. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had a muffin tin or mosquito repellent hidden in one of her pockets.
“You seem dead set on maiming someone, Ruby,” Mandy mentioned, biting back a grin.
“I know,” I groaned. “Even without heels I’m like a moose on ice.”
Mandy tossed her pretty blond hair back and laughed. Even Mr. Drake cracked a smile.
“Love the imagery,” Mandy said.
Mr. Drake tugged at the bottom of his suit coat and smoothed his hand over his plum hued tie. He slicked a hand through his silvery hair for good measure, and once satisfied that he looked the part of music executive again, he straightened his shoulders and said, “Right. I’ll survive.”
I fiddled with the hem of the snug dress I’d put on. “If this is about the outfit that I sent Harrison back with, I’m really sorry—”
Mr. Drake held up his palm to me, and it had the effect he was seeking—I immediately shut my mouth. “This isn’t about your wardrobe.”
“What are you doing in town? I figured big wigs like you didn’t have time to deal with little stuff like concerts. I thought you’d be too busy at the office, counting profits and scouting the next talent since I’m probably already old news.” I really wished I could have literally zipped my lips closed when I started rambling. Unintended insults and inappropriate humor tended to slip out without warning.
Mr. Drake looked over the rims of his glasses, an amused smile budging his usual tight frown. “No, I assure you, I am very much involved in the careers of my musicians. I started out as a performer myself, remember? I like to check in on appearances on occasion to keep things interesting. Maybe to relive a bit of my past.”
“Really?” I said, surprised. “I would have thought by now you would be one of those old people who didn’t like all the racket us young people are making.” Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? Before I insulted him again, I blurted out, “What’d you play?”
Mr. Drake’s tight smile let loose and a wide grin spread across his face. “Guitar. Lead singer, too.”
Mandy concurred, “Mr. Drake was quite the rocker in his day. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard of him.”
“Missed that in my history of rock ‘n’ roll class, I guess.”
Awkwardly, I couldn’t think of anything else to say, and Mr. Drake stood before me, with Mandy flanking him, ready to jump on whatever task she was assigned. Mr. Drake asked her to fetch him a lemon water and I almost expected her to materialize it out of thin air. She excused herself, and it was only Mr. Drake and I in the long, empty corridor. “I guess I should go get ready to practice,” I muttered, pointing my thumb toward the stage.
“Actually,” Mr. Drake reached out and grabbed my elbow as I started to leave, “I wanted to ask you who you were with this weekend.”
My breath hitched in my chest. Maybe I should have brought Ms. Osborne with me in person so she could help deflect the rippling consequence of her giving Mr. Drake an earful. “Oh,” I laughed weakly. “That was my neighbor, Ms. Osborne. I was visiting, and she got a bit feisty.”
“Your neighbor? She introduced herself as your therapist.”
I might as well have nailed my own coffin shut. “Oh, yes. Therapist. She’s both. My neighbor. And my unofficial therapist.”
Mr. Drake nodded, his eyes studying my face. His mouth opened, then he shut it again, like his brain was having a wrestling match with his mouth. “Your neighbor…what’s her first name?”
“Her first name? I can’t remember. She’s Ms. Osborne to me. So proper and ladylike. I think it’s Kathy, maybe? Or Kandice?”
“Katrina.”
A wave of relief splashed over me. Maybe he wasn’t going to fire me on the spot. “Yeah, that’s it! You know her?”
The blood totally drained from Mr. Drake’s face, his eyes growing wide and glassy.
“Are you alright, Mr. Drake? You look like you’re going to pass out.”
I grabbed his arm to offer support, though I would have done little more than a dry reed could do to keep an oak from falling. Finally, he stammered, “Y-yes. I’m alright. I just…need to make a phone call. Do you happen to have her number?”
I’m sure Ms. Osborne would have normally frowned on me giving out her personal number to someone, but I wasn’t about to argue with Mr. Drake. Whatever I could do to keep him happy in the face of all my blunders, I would do without question. I led him back into the dressing room where Kiki sat with her feet draped over an armchair, taking multiple selfies until she was sure she’d gotten her lip pout just right.
“Let me just write it down for you,” I mumbled, tearing off a piece of paper and scribbling her number with a shaking hand. I stood to give the shred of paper to Mr. Drake but his eyes had focused elsewhere. I followed his line of sight to where the red and black guitar Ms. Osborne had given me was resting against the couch.
“Where did you…?” he whispered.
“The guitar? Actually, Ms. Osborne, er, Katrina gifted it to me when I was back this weekend. Said her long-lost love gave it to her with the promise of teaching her how to play, but it never happened. She thought I’d get better use out of it.”
Mr. Drake took three long strides and knelt down by the instrument, softly touching it as if it would evaporate if he pressed too hard.
I exchanged a curious glance with Kiki, who’d taken a break from indulging the social media kingdom and her devoted fans there in favor of the dramatic scene developing before her.
“Do you like it?” I asked hesitantly.
Mr. Drake turned his head, only half looking at me. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a mistiness to his eyes. “Yes. In fact, I was the one who gave it to her.”
My brain was clogged for a moment with all the implications of his statement until my thoughts broke free and came flooding out. It all made sense now.
“You’re Ms. Osborne’s mystery man,” I said softly.
Sniffling slightly and clearing his throat of emotion, Mr. Drake confirmed, “A long time ago, I was.”
“But she said his name was Lyle. You’re Robert.”
“Lyle’s my middle name. It’s what everyone used to call me until I became an executive. I wanted to distance myself a bit from my rock persona, and Robert sounded more professional.” Mr. Drake gave me a smile, his face ashen and weak. Still, there was a glimmer of hope in hi
s eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to catch up with an old flame.”
He left without another word, leaving me in stunned silence. Though nothing surprised Kiki, even she appeared almost tickled by the whole situation. “So, your neighbor is Mr. Drake’s old girlfriend?” I leaned back against the countertop to steady myself and take it all in.
“Sounds like it.”
“Huh,” Kiki laughed. “What are the chances?”
Secretly, I wished I could listen in on their conversation. It was hard to envision Robert Lyle Drake as anything but a commanding presence, but I imagined him as a stuttering, nervous man calling up a woman he once loved for the first time in decades. While I was thrilled to have inadvertently solved Ms. Osborne’s romantic mystery, I couldn’t help but feel a tug of sadness at my own heart. I’d called Collin a couple times since the first call at my parents’ that went to voicemail. Okay. Closer to, like, eighty, but he hadn’t returned any of them. I guess I’d been nastier than I should’ve been, and he wasn’t so easily forgetting my little uproar. In one last ditch attempt, I excused myself out into the vacant hallway, pulled out my phone and dialed again. It rang and rang, eventually turning to Collin’s voicemail again. Just the sound of Collin’s voice was enough to make my heart feel like it was being slowly pierced through with a rusty, serrated knife.
Walking back into the dressing room, phone still to my ear so I could enjoy Collin’s voice as long as possible, I found Kiki had completely changed outfits. She was wearing a black wig and a skin tight black leather outfit that looked about four inches too long at the ankles.
“I think this outfit’s for you,” she said, shedding the tight leather and tucking a robe around herself. Noticing that I was cradling my phone, she asked, “Trying Collin again?”
I nodded, and in frustration, tossed my phone onto the vanity. “I guess I ticked him off even worse than I thought. I mean, I was rude, but I didn’t think it was worthy of cutting me off cold-turkey.”
“But that’s exactly what you did to him,” Kiki pointed out.
I chewed my lip and grumbled, “Fair enough. But I just know Jill has something to do with it.”
Kiki snorted and rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to beat Jill by razing down Collin. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s backfired on you.”
“I know,” I whined. “I can’t seem to help myself.”
“So, maybe try catching Collin with a little bit of honey. He’ll see soon enough that Jill is the evil one.”
I slumped dramatically into a chair and banged my head on the counter for good measure. “That’s if he ever speaks to me again.”
“He will. He’ll call,” Kiki reassured.
“So far, the only calls I’ve been getting are from unknown phone numbers. The first one was from a drunk guy named Abram who claimed I sang at his cousin’s bar mitzvah. I think he was trying to ask me out.”
“I guess he can be your backup plan if Collin breaks up with you,” Kiki said with a shrug.
“Kiki!” I screamed, throwing the closest thing I could find. The black wig sailed through the air and limply hit the ground before even coming close to touching her.
“I’m teasing, of course. That sometimes happens to me—weirdos getting a hold of my phone number. I end up blocking anyone I don’t know.”
I nodded, “That’s what I’ve been doing. I don’t even listen to their messages any more. Even the thought of listening to another drunk Abram try to woo me over the phone makes my skin crawl.
“You won’t have to,” Kiki said sincerely.
I turned away from her and muttered to myself, “I guess I always have Troy to fall back on if it doesn’t work out.”
With surprising force, Kiki swiveled my chair to face her as a captive audience. She folded her arms in front of her chest and said fiercely, “Do not even entertain the thought. Troy is bad news.”
“Why? Because you think his chivalry is his subtle way of flirting? Kiki, you gotta give the guy a break. He’s been so kind and accommodating to me.”
“Because he’s trying to use you to make his way to the top. I’m pretty sure he once said his life goal was to be named People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive.”
I smirked, thinking of how the plain white t-shirt he would wear with a well-fitting pair of khaki cargo shorts really set off his gorgeous skin tone. “He certainly could be a contender,” I said dreamily.
“He’s a rat presented in beautiful packaging, that’s all,” Kiki said hotly. “He’ll flirt with anything with a bra and a heartbeat.”
“Why do you care so much? Did he slight you somehow? Did your stone-cold heart melt for his devilish charms?”
The flash of anger that Kiki had been nursing quickly dissipated, and she was left standing in front of me, tender and vulnerable. “It wasn’t me. It was Monica Best. The tabloids all said it was her boyfriend cheating that made her go off, but it was Troy. He weaseled his way between them the same way he’s doing to you and Collin. If it doesn’t work out for him the way he hopes, it’s no skin off his nose. He’ll be back with the next hot, successful girl he lays his eyes on in a week. He’s a predator, Ruby. I just wish you knew what you had with Collin.”
I sighed, feeling like I’d been run over by a semi. “My hands are tied. I’ve done everything I can to make it up to Collin. Maybe Jill finally spilled the beans about Troy kissing my cheek, and my stupid inability to fess up to the truth really did do in my relationship.”
“Collin’s going to find his way back.”
“And if he doesn’t?” I asked, feeling the all too familiar prickle of tears creeping into my eyes.
Kiki said knowingly, “If nothing else, heartache is great songwriting material.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
My eyes stung as rivers of sweat dripped into them, but I held my pose, panting heavily while brightly smiling as I’d been instructed to do. When I was given the all clear, someone handed me a bottle of chilled water and a towel so I could mop off my face. I guzzled the water and crushed the bottle in my hand, breathing in a great sigh of relief. We’d been running through Dark Shadows, my second to last number, practicing it at least a gazillion times on an enormous outdoor stage. I could finally do the steps in my sleep while singing, keeping up the proper theatrics while also ignoring the flashy back up dancers and my face glowing on the giant screen that backed the stage. George kept reminding me that there would also be fireworks exploding at the end and to never discount the powerful disorientation that could come from screaming fans.
“Could I maybe do a song without unreasonably high heels on then?”
George frowned. “Get used to them. When fans come to concerts, they want to see you at your best, not shimmying around in bare feet and sweats.”
My jaw dropped in mock offense and I scoffed, “I never said anything about sweats, though I do think wardrobe could whip up something fantastic in fleece that’s also a little less revealing.” I tugged up the neckline of my dress to make a point.
“Ruby,” George warned.
I rolled my eyes sassily and sighed, “I know, I know. Fans expect the whole package when I perform.”
Kiki noted, “And heels make your legs look their best.”
“Mark my words, they’re going to be the death of me. Then where will Harper Music be?”
“At least you’ll go down looking fabulous,” George quipped.
Kiki laughed from her seat near the stage where she sat with her feet up, perusing a magazine. “Your favorite, Ruby! ‘At least’ statements!” I chucked my sweaty face towel at her.
Overall, the whole concert was coming together incredibly well. I couldn’t have imagined how amazing it was all going to be when I was briefed on the concept of the performances months prior. Most had already been set for Monica Best’s opening act for Kiki, and other than a few tweaks here and there, I was simply inserted into the concert. Just because I was Harper Music’s second choice didn’t mean I’d give second-rate
performances. Mr. Drake was going to get his money’s worth from me. Of course, I couldn’t complain about the paychecks that had started rolling in, either.
“Have you seen Troy?” I asked Kiki.
“I don’t pay attention to your accompanist,” Kiki mumbled. She’d gone back to flipping through her magazine. “Ugh, I hate the paparazzi. They’re always trying to catch people at their worst. See?”
I trotted down the stairs to look over her shoulder and saw a picture of Kiki walking some sort of terrier mix dog down the busy streets of New York City. I did a one shouldered shrug and said, “I don’t know, Kiki. I think that photo is candid for sure, but it’s not bad.”
“What are you talking about? It’s horrid. My hair is all out of place, and I’m mid-chew of a granola bar.”
“I think you’re just too used to photo shoots where everything is just so. This picture is everyday life. That’s what people want to see when they catch a celebrity. That you still exist on the same plane as everyone else. Immaculate in concert or on television, but normal otherwise.”
“Would they like a picture of me brushing my teeth, too? Just to know that I spit toothpaste into the sink?” she asked grumpily.
“Blowing your nose would be better,” I said. My joke was received with glaring daggers. “So, Troy? Is he missing? I need him for Hearts on Fire, then we can do our duet. It’s the last thing I need to do and I really want to get in a nap before tonight.”
“You sure it’s good enough?” Kiki teased. “You might need a few more hours of practice to really polish your act.”
“I’ve been hearing whispers that my set was fabulous.”
Kiki shut her magazine decidedly and used it to shield the afternoon sun from her eyes. “You haven’t seen fabulous until you’ve seen Kiki.” I rolled my eyes. There she went, referring to herself in third person again. “Troy left about five minutes ago. Once you find him, tell him to get back on stage, and you can get in a couple runs of Hearts on Fire before our duet. Then you can be excused for your beauty rest.”
When a Star Falls (Stars Book 1) Page 20
