Wright that Got Away (Wright)

“Nate King.”

I winced. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. You know, he’s actually the cousin of a friend of mine.”

“Is it Gavin?”

“Yes!” English said. “You know Gavin?”

“I knew that Nate went to New York to visit him.”

“What a small world,” English said. “So, what’s up with you two? I noticed he hasn’t been on your feed in about two weeks, but he was all over it before that. What happened? All the sordid details, please. It’s better for me to know what I’m walking into. Nothing seems confirmed either way on social, which makes it a lot more amorphous.”

I sighed and then stepped back out of the dressing room. “Nate and I never dated. He went to my friend’s wedding with me, and we hooked up. Nothing official, and then I realized we weren’t into each other. We’re still friends and business associates. He’s met Campbell. He knows what’s up.”

“I see. Hmm…do you think he’d be willing to make a video, congratulating you on Saturday? That way, it’s clear you two aren’t together and you haven’t been for a while?”

“I could ask him. I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”

“It’s going to be sticky either way.” She tapped her mouth. “But no worries. I’ll figure it out. If you give me his contact, I can reach out to him myself.”

“Okay. Sure. You think people will be mad?”

“Campbell Soup girls? Definitely. The rest of the world? Probably not.”

“All right.”

English signed off on the receipt and thanked the salesperson. The dress would be delivered to Campbell’s house later in the week. She linked arms with me as we traipsed out of the designer boutique and then stopped in her tracks at the next location. Her smile curled up on the corners like the Grinch when he had a terrible thought.

“What?” I asked. Then, I saw the lingerie boutique in question—La Perla.

“If we’re using Campbell’s credit card, we might as well use it for good, right?” English asked.

My grin matched hers. “Oh, definitely.”

31

Campbell

“He’s not here yet,” Viv said before I could even open my mouth.

I deflated. “How did you know I was going to ask?”

She arched an eyebrow and picked at her new neon-purple nail polish. “Because I know you.”

“Bobby is waiting for us,” Santi said, bounding in my direction.

We hit knuckles.

“And West?”

“I introduced him to Micky, and they started in on technical speak. I lost whatever the thread was and left them to it. I bet they’re already in the studio, figuring shit out.”

I nodded. Well, that was a relief. Micky worked in the recording booth. He knew his shit. He’d helped record our last two albums. If he and West hit it off, it was going to make our lives a lot easier.

“Good. And Yorke?”

“Can you believe that one of the receptionists is a Peppermint Patty?” Santi asked.

“Yes,” Viv and I said together. We glanced at each other and cracked up.

“He’s like the fucking Witcher. He basically grunted and said fuck through the whole conversation, and she had heart eyes.” He opened his eyes wider and fluttered his eyelashes.

Viv smacked him. “Hey, be nice.”

I laughed at the whole spectacle. I was glad that we were all still good, even with everything that had happened with Michael. He felt like an essential part of our team. Like we’d lost an appendage. I hoped we wouldn’t have to learn to live without him.

Yorke came around the corner with a smirk on his lips. His hands were in his pockets, and he nodded at me. “Sup.”

“Heard the receptionist is a Peppermint Patty.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Yep.”

“You get her number?”

“Yep.”

“Cool, bro.”

The door opened then, and Bobby Rogers stood there, waiting for us.

“Campbell, you made it!” He shook my hand vigorously. “You ready to get back into the studio?”

I frowned. “Yeah, Bobby, I’m ready. We have, like, half an album, but what about Michael?”

“Michael. Yes, of course. Let’s go chat with him.”

I glanced at the rest of the band in confusion. Bobby seemed ready for us to get started, but Michael was still the biggest unknown for me. We’d written and released the last two albums with him. I couldn’t imagine doing this one without him.

We followed Bobby into a conference room. Michael entered as we were all taking seats at the table. He looked…good. Better than I’d seen him in Lubbock. He’d shaved, and his clothes were neat. But the biggest change was that he was smiling. I didn’t realize until then that I hadn’t seen him smile in months.

“Hey, Michael,” I said, jumping to my feet to shake his hand. “Good to see you, man.”

“You too, Campbell.”

He hugged Viv and then shook hands with Santi and Yorke. Santi looked like he wanted to pull him in for a hug of his own, but we were on uneven ground here. Santi’s normal antics had started the explosion that ended with Michael leaving the band. None of us knew exactly what was going to go down.