royalties than we probably think.
“Cry me a river,” Daria replies. “Fifty percent. Yes or no?”
The guys huddle up. And as they do, I clutch my sides and rock in place, feeling like I’m going to explode from anxiety. But, finally, Eli and Savage break free of their conversation and confirm we’ve got a deal.
“Hallelujah!” Daria shouts, springing out of her chair. She shakes Eli’s hand, and then Savage’s, before wrapping me in a warm hug. And when I nuzzle my face into my agent’s neck, a dam breaks inside me. As I cry into Daria’s neck, she whispers into my ear, “This is gonna change your life forever.”
After thanking her profusely, I disengage from Daria, expecting to find Savage awaiting me, the same way his agent is doing. But to my surprise, as I shake Eli’s hand, Savage is sulking in a corner of Daria’s office, gazing out the window.
“I’ll call Nadine and tell her the good news!” Daria chirps, ignoring the thick anger wafting off the rockstar in the corner. She picks up her phone, but pauses. “Real quick. Now that we’ve shaken on it, what’s Laila’s fifty percent worth?”
Eli addresses his sulking client. “You wanna tell her?”
Savage turns his burning eyes from the window to me, leveling me with a glower that takes my breath away. “Congratulations, Miss Fitzgerald,” he says, his jaw tight. “You just extorted me for two . . . million . . . bucks.”
Twenty-Five
Savage
With jackets draped over our heads, Laila and I are guided into the backseat of an SUV in Daria’s underground parking garage—the chariot sent by the show’s producers to whisk us off, discreetly, to whatever overnight “hideaway” they’ve arranged until our permanent digs can been finalized. I hear the click of the back door as I settle into the backseat next to Laila’s body heat. Then, the sound of the car’s front doors opening and closing, followed by the voice of one of our two handlers—a bodyguard and driver sent by the producers—announcing, “All clear. You can uncover your heads now.”
I remove the jacket from my head to find Laila, her sandy hair mussed and her face aglow, sitting next to me in the large SUV. Without delay, the driver starts the engine, prompting Daria and Eli to wave goodbye to us through the windshield like proud parents, and off we go, under cover of dark tinted windows, out the garage and into the midday sun on Wilshire Boulevard.
“This is wild,” Laila says, sounding giddy. “I feel like ‘the package’ in a spy thriller!” She touches her ear, like she’s talking into an earpiece. “The Package . . . is on . . . its way.”
She giggles, but I’m still too pissed about the money to join her. I was more than happy to help Laila secure a seat at the judges’ table, if doing so didn’t impact me and my bottom line. But I never would have lifted a finger to help her if I’d thought, even for a minute, it would pave the way for her to fleece me out of half my salary. I need every dime of that salary, and then some, to comfortably pay for my grandmother’s house. I’m sure I can make the deal work somehow, probably with a loan. But a loan wasn’t part of my plan when I decided to buy that house.
The giddy expression on Laila’s face evaporates when she sees my sour one. “Oh, come on,” she says, shoving my shoulder. “You’re still grouchy about the money? Let it go!”
“Yes, I’m still grouchy. It’s been less than an hour since we signed our contracts, through which you extorted me for two million bucks.”
“Extorted,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “You made a willing and informed decision, based on expert guidance from your agent. Now, get up, dust off your knees, and get over it.”
“Get over it? Laila, I’m rightfully going to be pissed about two million bucks until the day I die.”
She holds up her water bottle, like she’s toasting me. “Well, here’s hoping that day comes sooner, rather than later, for both our sakes.”
“I never even wanted to do the stupid show!” I blurt. “When they first offered it to me, I said no. They offered me two mill, and then three, before I finally, begrudgingly, said yes for four. I never would have done it for two mill!”
“Well, lesson learned,” she says. “Maybe next time you won’t take a two-million-dollar naked swan dive into a swimming pool where anyone could