The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys 1)
“I need a foot in the door. Contacts. You can’t make it anywhere in the world without knowing somebody. You’re going to be that somebody, and I’m going to be your personal assistant.”
I barked a laugh. “A personal assistant? No. I can’t do that, Evelyn. I don’t have the clout anyway.”
“Have you even bothered to watch any of your videos?” she asked, weaving her car through traffic. “Have you read any of the comments? You’re going to be huge, Miller. Where you’re going tomorrow? It’s not a job interview. It’s going to be to sign a record contract.”
I leaned back against the leather seat of her Escalade, contemplating her words. Then shook my head.
Impossible. Isn’t it…?
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself,” I said. “And no. Sorry. I can’t do that, Evelyn. I can’t do that to Violet.”
“I have to get out of here, Miller,” Evelyn said, and I was shocked at the sudden tears filling her eyes. “I have to. What happened to you today? It happens to me too.”
I stared, my brain trying to comprehend what she was telling me. All the times I’d been in her house, I never got a sense of anything sinister. Happy photos on the walls, joking around with her dad, an indulgent mom who was clearly proud of her.
“Who?” I asked. “I’ve never seen—”
“So, if you didn’t see it, it never happened?” Without taking her eyes off the road, her hand went down to the hem of her mini skirt and pulled it up. A rectangular-shaped bruise, four inches long and two inches wide, ran across the top of her thigh. She pulled her skirt down.
“He hits me there. So it doesn’t show.”
“Fuck,” I breathed. “Who?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. Jesus, Evelyn, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said, waving a hand. “I can take care of myself. And I will, once I get to Los Angeles. Promise me, Miller. Promise you won’t say anything. Promise me that when your dreams come true, you’ll help me with mine.”
Nothing had happened yet, but if by some miracle she was right, and they did offer me everything I could hope for, it was my responsibility to help other people. My duty. I’d lived in a car. I’d been homeless once, and I was ho
meless again. If the universe was going to take care of me, I had to pay it back.
“I promise,” I said, sealing the deal. My word was unbreakable. I just prayed to God that Violet would understand. That it wasn’t asking too much of her…
“Thank you, Miller,” Evelyn said, letting out a shaky breath. “You’re one of the good guys. You know that, right? That’s why they love you so much.”
“Who?”
“All those girls on my vlog. That’s what they all want. Someone like you, looking at them the way you look at Violet. They all want to be the girl in your love song.” She glanced at me, her usually sharp eyes soft now. “Gold Line Records knows that. They’re going to bottle you up and sell you, Miller. Are you prepared for that?”
I thought of my mom’s face, etched in hopelessness. Covered in dust.
“Whatever it takes.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I finished my check-up at the Medical Center. As I suspected, my head was just fine, no residual effects of the concussion I’d had months ago. But to be safe, I’d sat on the bench for the rest of the soccer season, cheering the team from the sidelines.
I’d just arrived at my car when Ms. Taylor, my counselor, called. “I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”
“The bad,” I said, shutting the driver side door and climbing behind wheel. “Then hit me with the good to take the sting out.”
“I’m afraid it’s a pretty big sting. UC Santa Cruz has awarded you the Joan T. Bergen scholarship in the amount of $5,000.”
“That’s a good thing. Per year?”
“Total. There was a lot of competition this year, and most scholarships were already awarded. That leaves you needing to cover about $55,000 over four years. Not to mention housing, food, books, et cetera.”