The Arrangement - Jerica MacMillan Page 0,21

matter what she says. The answer is clear. She hated it.

“No,” she says. “I didn’t hate it.”

“But you didn’t like it.”

Now she tilts her head back and forth, a gesture of absolute ambivalence. “It was …”

“Bad,” I supply. “Just tell me it was bad, and we can move on.”

This time when she meets my eyes, hers are alive with passion. The most genuine emotion I’ve seen from her since we met. She points a finger at me. “Stop it. You don’t get to put words in my mouth. You really want to know what I think?” She waits for my jerky nod before continuing. “Fine. I’ll tell you. You have a nice voice. But those songs are blah. They’re the kind of thing that you would’ve sung as a twelve-year-old. But times have changed, tastes have changed, and you’re not a cute little boy that everyone thinks is adorable. You have to sell your music as a sexy man. Not as a cute little boy. You’ve grown up. The rest of the world has too. You need to catch up to that fact.”

She presses her lips together, and I take a deep breath, trying to piece together a response, but she’s not actually done. “Your brother still plays some of Brash’s hits. Or at least he used to. I’ve seen some of those videos too.”

“Did you stalk me online or something?” I interject.

She waves off my question. “Of course I googled you. I’d be stupid not to. And I also googled your brother. And even though he capitalizes on your biggest hits—and who can blame him?—his new music is way different. It fits the current trends, it has more grown up themes, and it’s interesting. If that’s what your sister-in-law did for him, then yeah, I can see why that video went viral. I can see why he’s been able to translate that into lasting success. And your pity party about how you’ve worked so hard and he just had it handed to him?” She shakes her head. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. Yeah, the viral video gave him a huge boost, there’s no denying that. But he works hard to stay there, and you know it because you’ve been working your ass off to help him stay there too.” She pauses again for another deep breath, but this time I wait to see if she’s done before trying to say anything.

Her voice is softer now, but still ringing with truth bombs. “Look, I get it. You’re the one that wanted it. It burns that he got it when he wasn’t trying and you were. But he understands the industry—what listeners want—better than you. Plus, he went viral with an original song that he wrote. Your whole channel is mostly covers, with a few notable exceptions, and those aren’t that interesting either. Doing covers can work for some people, if the goal is just to get discovered, but the covers have to be top notch, and they have to inject some of the performer’s own personality into them in a way that resonates with people to do well. Otherwise everyone would just listen to the real thing.” She taps her fingers on her leg in a quick rhythm, her gaze abstract, a thoughtful frown puckering her face. And because I’m not a complete moron, I wait for her to come to whatever conclusion she’s reaching for.

“Hang on a sec. Wait here.” She gets up and almost jogs past me, disappearing behind a door that must lead to her bedroom. The sound of rustling papers and her muttering reaches me where I wait on the loveseat, and I take the time to actually look around the apartment.

It’s pretty bare—just the basics. The nubbly gray loveseat we’ve been sitting on, a beat-up coffee table in front of me, a cheap entertainment center with the same brand of flat screen I had in my room as a teenager. Actually, it looks identical, which means it’s at least ten years old. There’s a tiny dining table made of light colored wood and two mismatched chairs in the corner by the kitchen. Which fits the whole vibe of this place. Mismatched, cobbled together odds and ends. Nothing like the curated, put-together, professionally decorated homes I’m used to occupying. The closest to this I’ve seen in a while is Gabby’s goofy collection of knickknacks she likes to keep in her and Jonathan’s condo.

Actually, Alexis and Gabby would probably get along well. They both have that

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