Reputation (Mason Family 2)

I half-smile. “The kind that wants an album dedicated to him.”

He snorts. “Spare me the dramatics.”

I sigh loudly in hopes that he reads the message: I don’t want to do this.

“What am I supposed to do?” I ask him. “I have to be here in the morning. And then, if I’m honest with myself, I’m going to have to be here to get started on an album that they want by June. Which is impossible if you don’t already know that.”

“I agree. You had to go.”

“So?” I lean my head against the cushions. “So, what are my choices? Bellamy isn’t going to come here. I can’t even ask her to do that. And she’s like freaking out right now and saying that our lives won’t mesh and this isn’t the right time for our relationship, and … She doesn’t want this now. And I can’t blame her.”

“No, you can’t. But what you can blame yourself for is the fact that you didn’t really try.”

My head springs off of the pillow. “What?”

“Shocking to hear the truth, isn’t it?”

“What the fuck do you even know about what I tried, and I didn’t try?”

“Well, first, you didn’t reach out to me to help you. You come to me for everything, Coy. Who did you call when you needed a new attorney over that fast food bullshit? Me. Who did you call when you couldn’t decide what house to buy? Me. Who did you fucking call when you thought you had ankle cancer—which isn’t a fucking thing, by the way—and you didn’t know whether to tell Mom?”

“I actually called Oliver for that. You just happened to be in the same room. And,” I add, “I was very, very drunk with Boone and in Vegas when that happened. Not sure you can use that here.”

“The point is that you didn’t try if you didn’t ask me for help.”

Slowly, I lean my head back on the couch.

He’s right. As usual, I do hate that he’s right, but it’s true. Every damn thing that I’ve been unsure about, when I’ve needed more council or just a sounding board I trust, it’s Holt that I call. He’s never bullshitted me—which is why I don’t call Boone—he’s never been unnecessarily condescending toward me—which is why I don’t call Wade—and he’s never laughed at me sense of defeat. Thank you, Oliver.

I trust Holt with my life. Fuck.

Holt exhales into the phone.

I can hear the exasperation in his tone. But I’m tired too.

“You are the most creative person I know,” he says, his voice softer this time. “Why don’t you take some of those skills and apply them to your current situation?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t hold the keys to my future.”

“That’s a cop-out.”

I groan as my head starts to pound. “It is not.”

“Hell if it’s not. Look, get outside the box, Coy. Think. You know how this industry works. Figure out a way around it and tell me what to do.”

“What do you know about the music business?” I snort.

“Not a damn thing. But I know people that do, and I know other people that will figure shit out if I pay them enough.”

My shoulders soften as a small smile slips across my lips.

Why can’t the music industry feel like this? Why does it have to feel like I’m going from this supportive place to a lion’s den?

It doesn’t have to be this way. There has to be a way to make music designed to make people happy—and me money—without sacrificing yourself. Or your life. Or your soul.

I sit up and balance my elbows on my knees. My head throbs, and I expect that it will for days.

“Did you know that Blaire left me?” he asks.

“When?”

“Last year. Not long after we first got together. A bunch of shit went down, and Blaire took off to Chicago.”

Impressive.

“I didn’t know that,” I admit.

“I called her and texted her and left her these messages that explained, in detail, how I deserved another chance. It was this sappy pouring of emotions that did one thing wrong.”

My brows pull together. “What was that?”

“I told her.” He chuckles. “I didn’t show her jack shit. Being the smart woman that she is, she didn’t believe me. Why should she? Why should she listen to some asshole promise her the world when she deserved someone to go out and get it?”

He and Boone have been spending too much time together.

Holt sighs. “When you decide that you can’t live without her—remember this. Show her that you love her. Show her that you mean forever.” He takes a long, deep breath. “Loving someone is action. It’s communicating and compromising and working your ass off. Just telling Bellamy you love her—it’s not good enough. It’s a decent start, but it means nothing at the end of the day.”

I bite my lip and think about what he’s saying.