Page 133 of The Comedown

“Like this past week?” he mocks.

“Yes, like this past week.”

Julian hasn’t just been good since our breakthrough in New Orleans, he’s been fantastic. Audiences have been responding to him more, I’ve been responding to him more. He’s been responsive himself. Actually, he’s been amazing in every regard.

If he was that way regularly, he’d go far. Farther than even me because he doesn’t have a powerful ex controlling who will work with him…and who won’t. Julian was right, fourteen years later, Bodee’s still got a grasp on me as well as my career.

I gifted Julian the chance to record with DJ Arique because he’s a bucket list producer. Not only is Arique someone who enhances a résumé by just having his name on it, he’s also a great teacher. At least he was back when I knew him, before Bodee banned him from ever working with me again. Being an expert at his craft and genuinely enjoying educating others on what he’s doing, why he’s doing it, and most impressively how he’s doing it, I thought he’d be the perfect wealth of knowledge for Julian to tap into uninterrupted. Even if I can’t access the best, I want Julian to be able to.

Shaking his head, Slade takes a swig from his beer bottle, and says, “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

He taps his head. “Long-term solution.”

“Keeping Julian intoxicated and in the dark is your idea of a long-term solution?”

“Keeping him happy is.”

“He wasn’t happy before I got here. He’s not even happy when he’s loaded. He’s happy when…” He’s happy when he’s with me. That’s what he tried telling me. On his shirt and his lyrics. If I wake to find you gone, back I’m sinkin’ to that prison of my own creation.

Slade must read my thoughts because he says, “Again, short-term solution. Take tonight for example, the moment you disappear from his direct line of vision…” His assessing examination down my body makes my lip curl. “What does he do? Returns to his reality, where he belongs. If you really knew this scene, you’d recognize you’re the one that doesn’t belong, sweetheart.”

He steps into my personal space, and I strengthen my spine, not letting it slouch an inch. I will not be intimidated by slimy Slade.

Lowering his voice, he says, “Julian’s about to realize the same thing Bodee did when he divorced you, cheap snatch feels the exact same as expensive snatch, but without all the hassle.”

I don’t know what’s worse, being reduced to the hole between my legs or the ex Bodee Keys dumped.

“Oh, Julian doesn’t fuck me,” I bite back. “I do all the fucking. And I don’t need Julian to be under the influence or for him to sign an NDA to do it. He’s happy to let me.”

“Except tonight.” With a scathing smirk, his head tilts toward the Jell-O pit, and my eyes drop to the floor. “Happiness is relative, and I know better than anyone what makes Julian happy.”

“If you truly wanted Julian happy, you’d find a way to get him out of his record deal.”

“And lose us both our jobs?” He snorts as if it’s the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard of, then his expression darkens into something sinister as he says, “I won’t be doing that.”

As soon as I laid eyes on him, I could tell money was Slade’s only motivation.

His concern isn’t that I don’t fit this scene, it’s that I’ll convince Julian to walk away from it entirely, because if he did, Julian’s likely to walk away from Slade next.

I wish I could, I really do. Unfortunately, I’ve been down this path before, so I know how it’d end if I even tried it. I asked Bodee to fire Jack long before he sent his manager in to rape me. I hated Jack upon first meeting him, and it only got worse with each interaction. He was just like Slade except with actual pull and influence, which is one reason why my ex refused.

I wasn’t dumped by Bodee, but I wasn’t chosen either.

Bodee wasn’t my king, and clearly, I was never his queen. If I was, there wouldn’t have been any other option when I presented him with that ultimatum.

And if tonight’s turn of events are any indication, I wouldn’t be Julian’s choice either.

But I already knew that. Julian’s a celebrity and celebrities are all the same—

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” Julian asks just over my shoulder, scaring the hell out of me.

I barely offer him a backward glance, murmuring, “Far from here.”

During a chuckle, his arm slides around my middle, and he pulls me tight against him, the scent of strawberry overwhelming his usual spicy, sweet musk. Against my ear, he says, “You ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“Boss man.” Slade laughs awkwardly, stepping several inches away to face us. “Finished unwrapping the presents I got you already?”