“Come on, Nixon, we both know that in this business, perception is truth.” Her lips turned up in a sad smile. “You might get crap for slumming it with the assistant, or breaking your promise not to sleep with the women on staff, but no one would ever doubt your right to a piece of that stage.”
My brow furrowed. “So, it’s really about your career and not that you just see me as part of your job?”
Her eyes widened. “You’re not…” She swallowed. “You’re not just the job. Not to me. If people like Jonas, Quinn, Ben, or Ethan saw the way I’d kissed you back? Or if they knew how badly I wanted you, it would do some serious harm to my professional credibility. I’d rather be known as the buttoned-up, organization freak who can’t color outside the lines but nails her job, than the girl who nailed the rock star to climb the ladder.”
“You want me, huh?” Shit, that was knowledge that could only do more harm than good, especially when she put reasoning like that behind her logic.
“Of course that’s the one thing you latch on to.” She rolled her eyes.
My stomach sank. “That night in the park…did I screw it up for you?” Had that single moment undone her reputation? Just the thought of it added a heaping serving of anxiety to my already overloaded system.
“No.” She shook her head. “No one cares what happens in Legacy. If there was only one video of you singing, I highly doubt anyone has one of us kissing.”
By that logic, no one would care about what happened on this plane either, or at the house in Colorado, or anywhere we couldn’t be seen. My focus dropped to her lips, my memory all too happy to play back that kiss in my mind. She wanted me. This was just as hard on her as it was for me. That shouldn’t have made me feel better, but it did.
“Since that was only a part of it, what else is on your mind?” she asked.
She’d been honest. It was only fair that I was too. “I can’t figure out if I miss the buzz of the alcohol, the release of the post-show adrenaline, or the blackout that usually followed,” I said quietly.
“Maybe all three.”
“Maybe.” Round and round, I swirled the ice, pausing only to drink.
“Is there anything I can do?” Her voice was so soft.
“You already did it.” I tried to force a smile, but it wouldn’t come. “You got me out of there. Another few minutes and I might have taken the green-haired kid up on his offer to go party.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Me too.” I would have been plastered by now, knee-deep in bad decisions with zero fucks given.
“His name is Ryan De Rosa, and he’s the lead singer for Blue Lotus. They were the first opener. Sound is a little raw, but the bass player’s dad is a friend of Ben’s.” She braced her palm on the seat between us. “I think Ben might take them on.”
“Would you?” I swirled the ice faster and faster.
“No. I don’t think they have a unique enough sound to make a dent in the market. They might develop one, but they’re not there yet.”
“I only heard one of their songs, but I wasn’t exactly blown away.” One shot, that was all most of us got in the industry. One night where some exec wandered into a bar. One song before they tuned us out. One chance.
“Exactly. It’s not enough to be good, you have to stand out.” She shook her head slightly. “I kept telling Peter he—” She pursed her lips.
“What?” I put my glass in the cup rest and turned to face her.
“I told him that he had to offer something no one else could if he wanted to get picked up.” Her eyebrows knit, as if she were reliving the moment. “I spent my senior year filling out college applications. He spent it sending in demos. I knew he didn’t have it,” she whispered, her face falling, “but I couldn’t tell him that. I had instincts but no experience, and you can’t look at someone you love and crap all over their dream.”
“You don’t look at someone you love and then fuck the cheerleader,” I countered.
“I guess it worked out for them. It doesn’t hurt anymore, but we’d been together for years, and when you’re that young, it’s