lots of up-close shots of Blake’s typical Hollywood face. It’s a mindless plot, but Blake is really good in it. In seven years of performing with him, I had no idea acting was something he’d want to go into.
I should’ve known that. We were close once, and I can’t help wondering what happened.
When did we become five selfish individuals instead of a team?
I can’t pinpoint an exact time, but I know the last two years together, things were hard for all of us. We were over it.
“Isn’t the sequel to this filming now?” Brix asks.
“Yeah. I heard it’s going to be the next big series like Die Hard. If he plays it right, Blake could be Coby Godspeed until he’s in his sixties like Bruce Willis.”
Brix runs his hand down my arm. “You should give him a call.”
“I don’t know Bruce Willis,” I joke.
“Funny. I mean Blake.”
I nod. “I will when this ends.”
“Spoiler: he kills the bad guy in the end.”
I elbow him. “You did not just do that.”
“I haven’t seen it, but he has to get the bad guy. They always do. And then when the second one comes along, there’ll be a new bad guy.”
“What happens when they run out of bad guys?”
Brix squeezes me tight. “In my experience, more bad guys replace the old bad guys. Take out the leader of an extremist group, someone’s waiting next in line to take their place.”
“That’s sad.” And it reminds me that even if they catch the guy who’s coming after me, there’ll be another one at some point. Then again … “At least you’ll always have a job with me if that theory is true.”
We fall silent at that because it’s a reminder we’re not a normal couple watching a movie on a normal date night.
We get lost in explosions, car chases, and killing, and when the credits roll, I sit up.
I really should call Blake. I feel shitty about not keeping in touch with the guys. “I’ll be right back.”
But when I go to our bedroom and find my phone, I see three missed calls from Gideon.
He didn’t call Brix, so it can’t be that much of an emergency, but my heart pounds as I call him back.
“Is everything okay?” he answers.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
“I figured you were either dead or out of hearing range.”
“I’m really feeling the love here.”
“It’s nothing important, so I wasn’t going to disrupt whatever you and your boyfriend were doing.”
“We were doing nasty kinky shit all over your cousin’s house.”
“Don’t need to know.”
I laugh. “We were watching Blake’s movie, actually.”
“Nice. Well, I’m calling because you apparently promised Evah that if her fragrance launch was successful, you’d back it up with your own on her line?”
I bite my lip. “I might have said something along those lines. Does it still count now we’re broken up?”
“Doing this could be a good career move, and it would solidify the friend angle you guys went with during the breakup. It’ll dispel the rumors that claim shit is getting nasty.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Great. I already have Jamie bringing you the contracts. She actually should be nearly there.”
“Hey, Gideon? There’s this cool new thing. You might not have heard of it because you’re so old and everything, but it’s called email. It’s faster than making my assistant drive out to Palm Desert.”
“They need to be signed in person, and they want the original copies.”
I huff. “If you say so. Hey, any update from the label yet?”
Gideon goes silent for a beat. “Look, I’m going to be honest. I’m not sure there’ll be a compromise on this. They know you’re going through a lot right now, and they’re sympathetic, but …”
I hang my head. “They’re flat-out refusing to produce an album with a new sound?”
“They’re convinced it won’t perform well. They said if you really want to go that route, that you can with your next album … under a different label.”
“They’re threatening to drop me?”
“You’re contracted for one more album. There are clauses in the touring section of your contract that say if your sales are below a certain level, you won’t tour. But even with a shitty-selling album, I don’t think Harley Valentine could ever sell below the threshold.”
“So, let me get this straight. I have to record the songs they force me to, tour when they tell me to, and I get absolutely no creative control? Even after all these years of loyalty?”