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Rae comes over wearing a one-piece with denim shorts, and I wave her to the lounger next to me.
“You need a hand with that?” Beck asks Elle, watching her open her bleach and mix it in the shade.
“Nah, I’ve been doing my roots for ages.”
“Without a mirror?” Beck asks. “All right, Annie’s not going to say it, so I will. Think of the pictures. I’m not being photographed with a zebra.”
Elle rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine. Hold your phone camera up for me?”
Beck turns to do that, and I focus on Rae as she drops onto the next lounger.
“Cute bathing suit.”
She grunts as she reaches for sunscreen. She applies it, twisting to reach her back.
“Here, I’ve got you.” I take the tube from her hand and rub some into her skin, scanning for any other marks.
Beck and Elle are talking about some new joke she’s working on, and I lower my voice.
“The other night after your set,” I say under my breath, “I noticed you had bruises on your wrist. As if someone had put their hands on you.”
Rae stiffens but doesn’t answer. When I hand the tube back to her, I look at her wrist, still covered in bracelets.
“It happened the first night in LA,” she says at last. “The booth at BLUE is in the middle of the bar. Partway through my set, this guy grabbed me from behind. Security was busy doing something else. I told them afterward they needed to pay more fucking attention, and they said they would. But the next night, I saw a woman getting pawed on the dance floor. She motioned for help, but no one came. I ended up leaving the booth and found her huddled in the alley behind the club. Her skirt was ripped. Her fucking hands were cut.”
Shock rises up. “That’s bullshit.”
“It’s assault,” she corrects. “And they weren’t going to do anything about it.”
Disbelief and anger clash in my chest.
“I told her to go to the police station to make a statement, even put her in a cab with all the cash I had on me to make sure she got there okay. I don’t know if she did. But if the club had done their fucking job, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“Did you talk to the promoter who booked you?”
“He brushed it off. I’ll take it to the owner.” Rae shifts back in her chair, sliding her glasses on her face. “But it’s part of a corporation and it’s hard to find someone to take responsibility.”
“Let me help. If anyone puts their hands on you, I will hunt them down myself,” I vow. “Which corporation?”
“Echo Entertainment Group. They have clubs from Paris to Ibiza.”
Echo Entertainment.My stomach knots, but if I look ill, Rae doesn’t notice.
“It’s not like I’ve never been treated like shit as a woman breaking into music. But when that happens in public and the people whose job it is to have your back turn a blind eye…” She shakes her head. “You hear about the industry, but it’s not until you’re in it that you experience it firsthand.”
“We’ll fix this.”
Is it just me, or do the words sound hollow?
Because I know the man who runs Echo Entertainment, and he’s on his way here.
“Whatever.” Rae stands and kicks off her shorts before I can decide what to say. “I’m going swimming.”
She heads for the pool steps, and Beck hollers at her, “No. There’s only one way to enter a pool, woman.”
He rounds to the deep end, his body shining in the sun and his RayBans firmly in place. Standing at the head of the pool, he holds up his arms as if demanding the world bear witness.
“Well?” Elle drawls from where she’s reading a book, her roots covered in white goop.
