by Amy Marie
“Do you need anything?”
She smiles up at Maggie. “Tea would be great. Thank you.”
Maggie smiles and nods as she makes her way back to the galley.
“I caught some of your set last night, Ms. Carlisle. Do you write your own music?” Cole asks.
Orelia ducks her head and gives him a shy smile that makes me want to deck my best friend. “I can’t seem to stop. I’m not sure if they’re any good, but the regulars seem to like them.”
Cole moves to the couch beside her, and the two of them chat about music and songwriting.
“Are you kidding me with this?” Hannah grumbles, leaning over the table toward me.
I fix her with a glare, and she crosses her arms, slumping in her seat like a petulant child.
Maggie returns with two cups of tea and offers one to Orelia with a smile. “That smells amazing,” she says. “Thank you, Maggie.”
She nods and sets a cup in front of Hannah. She takes a sip and sputters, dropping the cup on the saucer, sloshing tea everywhere. “Jesus,” she roars. “Now look what you’ve done!”
Maggie sputters an apology and scurries away to retrieve a towel. I take it from her with a smile, and she gives me a grateful nod. Leaning down to clean up the mess, I grit my teeth. “Quit being such a bitch, Hannah.”
“I didn’t do anything. She…”
“She brought you a cup of tea, and you spilled it. The entitled princess shit has got to stop. You are walking a thin line as it is.”
“So, I’m just supposed to sit here and sip tea while you flirt with some emo skank.”
“Enough,” I roar, and all eyes in the cabin fall on me.
A smirk slides across her face, and I hate myself for letting her get to me. She always did know how to push my buttons. Seems some things never change.
“Uh, maybe you can play a little something, Orelia.”
“Here?” she asks, “Now?”
“Yeah,” Hannah sneers. “Let’s hear one of those songs your regulars seem so fond of.”
“Um, okay.” She sets the battered guitar case on the floor at her feet, flipping the lid open and removing a well-loved acoustic. She sets it on her knee and strums the strings, adjusting the pegs a bit.
When she opens her mouth to sing, the cabin goes completely still. The rich, sensual quality of her voice surrounds me, wrapping me in the warm, beautiful sound. She sings of longing and of holding on to the ashes of a love you never really had. The music and her tone resonate in my mind and in my heart. I don’t just hear her voice, I feel it. I feel the pain and the grief, the hope and the joy, as the music crests, and she belts out a note like a battle cry.
I’m stunned, my breath caught inside my throat as she finishes, the plane settling back into silence once again. I can’t stop staring, completely entranced by her incredible voice still ringing in my ears.
After a long minute, she speaks. “Did you need more?”
I’m frozen, my heart beats a staggering rhythm inside my chest as I try to come down from the high of the music.
Cole leans forward. “That was fantastic.”
Hannah fumes silently in her chair. Immense pride fills my chest for this girl and maybe just the hint of amusement.
I lift my head, my eyes meeting hers as she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. “What do you think?”
“Breathtaking,” I choke out.”
A grin spreads wide across Cole’s face as he stands. “Well, I think this is cause for celebration. Maggie, a bottle of champagne.” I catch his eye, my jaw tense as I shake my head.
He glances at Hannah, shooting lasers at me from her eyes, then back to me. “I—I mean Perrier. Perrier for everyone.”
Orelia stands. “Is there a restroom?” she asks.
“Of course,” Cole responds, “just through there.”
I watch as she disappears behind the wood-paneled door.
“Fuck me,” Cole groans, leaning back against the couch. “You weren’t kidding.”
“You thought that shit was good?” Hannah smiles.
“She’s incredible,” I say, unable to tear my eyes from the hall.
“I guess history really is doomed to repeat itself.”
My head snaps in her direction. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Mark my words, Ezra. You are going to ruin that girl just like you ruined me.” She laughs. “This ought to be fun to watch.”
She’s a bitch, and she fucking knows it, but her arrow hit its mark. I may be responsible for the fame monster that is Hannah Miles, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let that happen to Orelia.
Chapter 4
Orelia
To say the rest of the flight is awkward would be the understatement of the century. I can feel the hateful energy radiating from Hannah Miles.
When I first saw her, I fought to hold in my inner fangirl, but as soon as she opened her mouth, my adoration died on impact. Hannah Miles, teen queen turned pop sensation, is a raging bitch. Petty and vindictive, demanding without a shred of basic human decency. I feared for poor Maggie, the flight attendant who took the brunt of her attitude.
The most disturbing part is watching her interaction with Ezra. The animosity he shows her is so thick I can taste it. The sour bitterness permeates the air and seeps into my pores. Then Cole asks me to sing, and my heart practically leaps from my chest. Is he crazy? What if he hates it? What if I sound so awful, they realize what a horrible mistake bringing me with them is and leave me stranded?
I refuse to give in to the fear, choosing instead to rise above and play like my life depends on it because let’s face it, it absolutely does. Sure, The Den is a great place to work, and Liam and Gwen are amazing, but I can’t spend the rest of my life serving drinks and singing to the open mic crowd. It’s the entire reason I’d gotten on the plane in the first place. I just wish I’d known what I was walking into.
The dynamic between Ezra and Hannah is strange. I know they have history. I mean, everyone knows. They were the music industry couple. The Producer and the Pop Star, a tale as old as time, but I thought they’d broken up. Not just broken up, imploded. So, then it begs the question, what are they doing here, together?
The pilot announces our descent to LAX, and we take our seats. Cole slides in beside me, and I see Ezra shoot him a glare out of the corner of my eye.
“So, love, I think you’ll find that things move rather quickly in this town. I’ve got a meeting set with the head of the label at four.” I glance at my watch; it’s four-thirty.
He taps his watch. The pearl face shows two time zones: east, which reads four-thirty, and the west, that shows one-thirty. I groan, remembering the time difference.
“Relax,” he says, patting my knee. “You’ll get used to it. Wait until the European tour. You’ll fall asleep and wake up in a completely different country.”
Did he just say European tour?
He chuckles as my eyes go wide. “All in good time. First things first, we meet the rest of the team at four, then the attorneys to hash out all the legal bits. Once all the i’s are dotted and t’s are crossed, we can sign the contracts and get to work. We’re going to want to release the first single in the next couple weeks and maybe get you on stage with a bigger name.”
He’s talking a mile a minute, and my mind is melting down at the prospect of Billboard charts and musical guest spots. I start to break out in a cold sweat, and my breathing speeds up.
“Jesus, Cole, will you shut the hell up?”
My wide eyes snap up, meeting Ezra’s crystal blue eyes. He’s even better looking than I remember, tall and broad through the shoulders. He pushes his hair from his eyes and props an ankle on his knee. “You’re scaring her,” he says.
“I am not.” He turns back to me and cocks his head. “Am I?”
I swallow.
Ezra chuckles and shoots me a wink. He meets my eyes with a soft, comforting gaze. “Ignore him,” he says with a smirk. “He’s a suit.
It’s in his nature.”
Cole shifts in his seat and smooths a hand down his tie. “Perhaps, but the difference, my friend, is I wear the suit, the suit doesn’t wear me.”
Ezra chuckles and shakes his head. With a sigh, he folds his hands in front of him and meets my stunned gaze again.
“Are you ready for this?” he asks.
“Ready for what?”
“To become a star!” Cole exclaims.
Ezra shoots him a glare before returning his focus back to me. “Your talent is undeniable.” Hannah scoffs, but he ignores her. “But it’s going to take a lot more than talent to make it in this town.”
“The song you sang, did you write it?”
I nod.
“Do you have more?”
I nod again.
“Good, there’s a raw power to your lyrics that I think will resonate with a lot of people.”
I lean into him, my body instinctively moving closer.
“But it’s not going to be easy. Writing a song is one thing, but making an album takes some serious dedication. If you are willing to put in the work, then I’ll do everything I can to help you get there. So, what do you say?”
I’m so lost in the hypnotic cadence of his voice that it takes me a minute to realize he’s asked me a question.
“I’m ready,” I answer, my voice, sounding far breathier than I intend. “To work, I mean. I’m ready to work.”
Ezra smiles and offers me his hand. I slide my hand in his as electricity shoots through my body. We smile at each other, holding on for a moment longer than necessary. “I’m looking forward to it.”
When we land, the door opens, and two large black SUVs are parked at the end of a red carpet. Hannah saunters down the stairs, leaving her bags to the porter, who moves quickly, retrieving several large suitcases and loading them into the back of the first SUV. I gather my things, and Maggie hands me the duffle bag she stowed away.
“Thank you,” I tell her, “for everything.”
“It was my pleasure,” she says, leaning in to whisper, “I can’t wait to buy your album.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but my smile is genuine as I step out onto the tarmac. Ezra waits at the bottom and offers me his hand, helping me down the last few steps. His fingers are warm against mine, and he smiles down at me, standing maybe a little closer than is socially acceptable. Not that I mind.
His gaze holds mine, and his grin is infectious. I can’t keep my lips from curling up.
“This way, Orelia,” Cole says, trotting down the steps and moving toward the second SUV.
I glance back at Ezra, and the hesitation is clear in his expression. Then Hannah leans out of the open door. “Ezra,” she whines, “let’s go.”
He exhales and gives my hand one final squeeze. “I have some things to take care of, but Cole will be with you every step of the way. Jeanne will have everything you need.”
I swallow and glance over to where Cole stands beside the back door of the vehicle. Electricity shoots through me as Ezra places two fingers beneath my chin and gently turns my head to face him.
“You’re going to be great,” he assures me. Then with a sweet smile, he turns and gets in the car with Hannah.
My body slumps as I watch the vehicle pull away, the windows tinted so dark that I can’t even make out his shape. I take a deep breath and steel my nerves as I head toward Cole and the SUV, waiting to take me to my future.
“Ms. Carlisle,” Mr. Silenus says, offering me his hand, “welcome to Dionysus Records.” Four words I never thought I would hear.
“Thank you,” I choke.
“Your voice is a gift, Orelia. Can I call you Orelia?”
I nod.
He smiles. “We are truly blown away.”
I blink again, swallowing hard as I struggle to comprehend the meaning of the words coming out of his mouth. I’m dreaming. I discreetly pinch the flesh of my thigh between my thumb and forefinger, wincing as a burning pain shoots through my leg. Nope. Wide awake.
My head spins. Everything he says sounds like gibberish. My breath kicks up a notch as he continues talking about ad campaigns and talk show appearances. Not a damn bit of it has anything to do with music. Not one thing.
“Great!” Cole says, clapping his hands together and pushing to his feet. “I’ll have the contract drawn up. Come by tomorrow, say ten, and we will go over all the details.” Cole smiles and reaches out to shake my hand again. “It was a pleasure, Orelia.” He winks. “I look forward to working with you.”
“You too,” I manage to choke out as he turns and heads out of the room. Malcom smiles and presses a button on his phone. The door opens, and a waifish redhead wearing a pair of thick blue frame glasses enters.
“Sir,” she says in lieu of a greeting.
Malcom stands from behind his desk and buttons his suit coat, his eyes warm as he smiles at me. “Jeanne here will get you settled at your hotel. If you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call.”
I stand, and he leads me from his office with a gentle hand at the center of my back. “Thank you, sir,” I tell him.
He smiles. “Please. Call me Malcom.”
Somehow, I make it to the hotel. Ezra wasn’t kidding, Jeanne took care of everything. My bags were delivered to my room, arriving well before I did. The room is stocked with my favorite peach tea, which is both a nice gesture and exceptionally creepy.
A girl could get used to this sort of treatment, being catered to, my every desire anticipated and carried out with the snap of a finger. It’s surreal. Crazy to think that this morning I woke up in my crappy apartment, wearing the same old threadbare T-shirt I always wore to bed. I took a lukewarm shower because there is never any hot water in my building. I got dressed in a pair of jeans I’ve had since sophomore year and put on a flowy tank that I picked up on sale at Target.
Nothing new, nothing different, nothing spectacular about the start of my day. I woke up just a girl with a guitar, and now I’m in L.A. about the sign a recording contract with Dionysus Records. The same Dionysus Records that launched the careers of Grammy award-winning musicians like Sonny Davis, Sarah Mitchell, and of course, Hannah Miles.
There is a cautionary tale if ever I saw one. I make a vow to myself to remain grounded. Hannah’s bitchiness aside, there is something sad and cold behind her eyes. It’s unnerving.
I drop onto the loveseat in my hotel room, my mind still reeling from the day. In less than twenty-four hours, my entire world had changed, and I can’t shake the feeling that this is a dream. Any moment now, I will wake up, and this all will just disappear.
My phone rings, and I barely register the sound. It rings again, and I snap into action, searching my bag for the device. I smile when I see Gwen’s name and swipe to answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Tell me everything,” she squeals.
“I—”
“What happened? Are you okay? Do you have a place to stay? Do you need money?”
“I—
“Tell me. Tell me.”
“I’m trying.” I laugh and smile as a hot wet tear slides down my cheek, then I lose it and begin to laugh. Tears stream down my face as I double over in hysterical laughter. My stomach cramps and my throat is sore, but I can’t seem to stop. I let myself fall to the side and roll to my back, clutching my knees to my stomach as the laughing continues.
“Liam,” she screams, “get in here; she’s losing it.”
“Who’s losing it?” my former boss grumbles in the background.
“Orelia? Orelia, can you hear me? Switch to video. I need to see your face.”
Sitting up, I wipe a tear from my eye and do as she says. Her face fills the tiny screen, and she sighs. “Oh, thank god. I’ve been a nervous wreck.”
Liam moves behind his wife, brushing a kiss along her jaw. “I told you she’s fine. Aren’t you?” he asks me.
“I’m amazing!”
“So, what happened?” She points at the sc
reen. “And don’t spare a single detail.”
I tell her about the flight, singing on the plane, Hannah Miles’s diva tantrum, then my meeting with Malcom.
“I knew it! You are going to be huge!” she squeals. “And fuck Hannah Miles. You’ve got more talent in your left tit than she ever will.”
“I don’t know,” I tell her, “her tits are pretty great.”
“Please, they are as synthetic as her voice.”
“You’re one to talk,” I tease her.
She scoffs. “These, my friend, are a work of art.” She gestures to her breasts with a Vanna White flourish.
“Tell me about it,” Liam growls, folding his arms around her and burying his face in her neck.
“Okay,” I warn, “if you’re going to start that, I’m hanging up.”
“No,” Gwen says, swatting Liam away. “Listen. I want you to remember two things. We love you, and don’t let those fake bitches get you down. You do you. Anyone who gives you a hard time will have to deal with me.”
I giggle. “Okay, and Gwen?”
“Hmm.”
“Thanks for firing me.”
A smile brightens her face. “Anytime. Now go write a song about me.”
“Okay.” I giggle.
We say our good-byes, and I hang up just as the phone starts ringing again. My dad’s face lights the screen, and I smile, holding the phone in front of me.
“Cher?” Dad’s face fills the small rectangular screen. “Everything okay?” he asks.
I wipe at my tear-stained face. “Everything’s great! Incredible even.”
His brow furrows as he searches my face. “Where are you?”
“Well, it’s kind of a funny story.”
After hanging up with Dad, I decided to take advantage of the jacuzzi tub in the bathroom, which I might add is nearly the size of my entire studio apartment back in Boston.
An hour later, my skin is soft and smells amazing after a long soak in coconut bath milk, which I didn’t even know was a thing. Now that my eyes have been opened to the magic that is bath milk, I fear there’s no going back.
