Haze - By Andrea Wolfe Page 0,23

doubts about him, finding it was so weird that he couldn't connect with this incredibly emotional performance taking place in front of him.

Was he even human? Why was he acting so disinterested?

I could feel every word she sang, the topics ranging from misery to sheer joy, the sort of visceral word play that any listener could relate to. I started to lose myself in thought, analyzing Jack's behavior when I heard the performer speak.

"I would especially like to thank my producer, agent, and co-writer, Jack Teller. I wouldn't be anywhere without his help." The crowd clapped politely as Jack burst out laughing, accidentally spitting water on himself. A few people from the crowd looked over to him, probably because of the water spitting and not because they recognized him.

He had been playing me the whole time!

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I wanted to get your honest opinion without influencing you. If I told you that she was my artist, you would have just been nice whether you really liked her or not."

"You're so full of shit!" I was offended that he felt that way—I also realized that he was totally right. I wasn't going to admit it, though. The whole performance felt very different now, tinged with a brand new hue.

"I'm a shitty actor on top of that. I have to pretend I'm angry if I'm trying to hide a smile."

"I noticed." I sipped my drink defensively, if that was even possible.

Jack took my hand and lightly stroked it. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I won't do that again, okay? I just wanted to make sure I was doing a good job with Lexy."

Actually, it made me feel warm inside to hear that he valued my opinion, even though I didn't know shit about the music industry—well, other than crunching sales and expense figures. I had begged for him to take me seriously and gotten upset when he hadn't. This was great, actually. "What's her full name?"

"Lexy Brown. I actually moved here to work with her. I was in L.A. before."

"She's... pretty," I said distantly.

Jack gave me a cold smile and paused. "Pretty what? No, Effie. I've never slept with her, nor will I ever. It's just business, okay?"

"I didn't go there!" I said slightly louder than I had intended.

"She is pretty, Effie, but she's nothing compared to you." The words rolled out so smoothly, so warmly. He looked deep into my eyes and I fought him until I couldn't anymore. Jack spoke with such authenticity, such care. "Sex appeal does help in this business, no doubt."

I wanted to dwell on his compliment as much as I wanted to proceed with the conversation. It felt good; it just fit. I could have told him how gorgeous I thought he was, but lightening up the situation seemed like a better choice than flattery or contributing to narcissism. "I just can't see her in those Lady Gaga outfits though. She seems far too classy for that."

Jack finished his drink and slammed the glass down on the table. "You guys just don't get Gaga," he said. "She's brilliant, even if you think she's a little crazy."

We both started laughing uncontrollably, the former tension shattered into a million pieces. I was really glad he was joking with me again. By that time, Lexy had finished her last song and was putting her guitar away.

Jack turned around and stood up. "Lexy! C'mere and say hi!"

Lexy immediately smiled after noticing Jack and headed over to our table. "Hey, Jack! I didn't know you were here tonight." Lexy was even prettier up close. I swallowed a lump in my throat as she got to us.

"I had to hear how the new song was working out. It was fabulous."

I instinctively watched their body language, assuming the worst. They were close, no doubt—but I couldn't see anything beyond a working relationship no matter how hard I tried. "Lexy, this is Effie. Effie, this is Lexy."

I stood up and shook her hand. "Lexy, you were great! You're super talented."

She blushed, surprising me with her humility. "It's all Jack," she said. "I won't lie—he's really helped me learn my identity as a songwriter."

"Yeah, but I don't waste my time on just anyone." He looked at her so proudly, with so much admiration. The look was almost paternal. He had apparently cultivated her, molded her into this artist who was now attracting major-label attention and turning heads wherever she went.

"I was blown away," I said. It was the truth.

"Well, thanks again for being