Truth

His cheeks rounded as he nodded. He turned on his heel but not before looking back at Brooklyn and giving her an encouraging nod. “Glad to see you two are working well together. Vinny will be pleased.”

As soon as he was gone, Brooklyn reached over and threw the pen and paper at me from beside the bed. “Now write.”

“I will…” I said, pulling my guitar lazily back onto my lap. “After tomorrow.”

She huffed. “What? Do you think I’m going to back out of this ridiculous thing if you give me a song right now?”

“I can’t place all my eggs in one basket, Brooklyn. I have to play my cards right.”

Her tiny shoulders tensed by her ears. “Ugh, I really do hate you!”

I cocked a smile. “You wish.”

And I really wished I hated her, too.

Chapter Fourteen

Brooklyn

Ridiculous. It was absolutely preposterous that I had to go to a freaking birthday party with Reid. And not just any birthday party—an exclusive, invite-only, birthday/charity party. The only good thing was that it was for charity. There were going to be tons of famous people there, and here I was, a total nobody, and I had to go.

I was nervous. Okay? There, I said it. I was a Nervous Nelly. The only thing that kept me going most days was that catchy commercial playing in the back of my head that sang, “Money, money, moneeeyyy,” advertising one of those quick-and-easy loans that were like 80,000% interest. I couldn’t very well use one of those to help my sister and parents pay off their debt and save them from the never-ending medical bills. So, I took a deep breath, reminded myself of just that, and stared at myself in the mirror.

The dress Carissa had delivered to my extravagant hotel room had to have been equal to three months of my rent payment. It was a short, sleek, black cocktail dress, hitting right about mid-thigh. Tiny straps held up the low-dipping V-neck and crisscrossed in the back, leaving my exposed skin for all to see. Thankfully, you could barely see the nasty, yellowing bruise from my fall the other night. You could really only see it when I turned a certain way and the dress dipped down slightly.

The dress was sexy. I, however, was not. I felt like it looked like I was trying too hard to be someone I wasn’t. And then, of course, the thought of Reid kept filtering through my head. What will Reid think when he sees me in this? My face burned when I found myself spraying some fancy spray from the hotel into my straightened hair to make it appear sleek and glossy, all because I wanted Reid to think it looked good. I almost rewashed my hair because the thought made me so agitated. I shouldn’t have cared what Reid thought of my hair. I was supposed to be angry with him. Ugh. I couldn’t believe he agreed with Rod that I should attend this stupid party with him instead of hanging out with my very best friend who I hadn’t seen since I signed the stupid contract to work with him in the first place. The nerve! I had a ton to tell her, and it was stuff that you couldn’t just say over a text message. For example: “Oh, hey, Jane. Reid saw me naked. Ttyl.” That would not work.

Just as I was strapping my black heel to my ankle, cursing my side for still hurting, there was a soft knock on my door. My heart stopped when I looked at it, wondering if it was Reid. Oh my God, stop it!

I took a hefty breath, cracking my neck a few times, and then walked over to the door and swung it open. I was ready to fix a glare to my face because I was just certain it was Reid, but I was met with Rod’s face instead.

“Oh, hi,” I said, my voice sounding pathetic. I wasn’t disappointed that it wasn’t Reid, no way.

“Hey, Brooklyn,” he said as he walked farther into my room.

I actually liked Rod. Reid seemed annoyed with him nine times out of ten, but he was honestly a nice man, always making sure I had what I needed and making sure I was okay. The only thing that bothered me about him was that he was constantly asking me for an update on Reid, but that was probably because Carissa and the record label were breathing down his neck.

The record label wanted an update—or at least a small snippet of a song—like… yesterday, so I kind of understood.

Shutting the door behind him, but not without glancing down toward Reid’s door, I asked, “What’s going on?”

“Please tell me you and Reid have something.”

I ran my fingers down my silky hair, smoothing it out yet again. “Something as in… a song?”

He exhaled tiredly. “Yes.”

“Is the record label getting a little antsy?”

“A little?!” he all but shouted. “They won’t lay off, and they’re concerned you’re not doing what you were hired to do.”

I went to stand up for myself, but Rod held up a hand.

“Trust me, Brooklyn. I know you’re doing everything you can. I like the way you are with him, and I like the way he is with you. I see a huge difference in him. Sure, he might not be back to writing chart toppers yet, but I see a difference in him. He’s lighter, smiling, laughing. You’re br

eaking down his walls one by one, and the sooner he pops his head through the debris, the sooner he’ll be back on track.”

Relief sagged in my shoulders. “So they’re not firing me?”