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She sighs, knowing it’s true. “Fine. I’ll consider giving Addy my two weeks.”
I laugh, because Addy won’t want her two weeks. But if it makes her feel better to offer it, that’s cool.
six
Wrenlee
I busted my ass billing in my room. I heard Cash take off at nine to meet the guys, knowing he was scheduled to begin playing at Club Violet for eleven. I’d never been to Club Violet, though I’d heard it was popular. Marley once told me Cara frequented it, hoping to catch herself a man on his way to stardom.
She’d be so pissed to know I was now living with Cash.
Closing the lid of my laptop, I wipe tiredly at my face. It’s been a long day with a lot of emotions. I hardly got a wink of sleep the night before and the bed in Cash’s spare room is so frigging soft, all I want to do is sink into it and sleep for the next year. But I know Ishould hold up my end of this if I can, so I move to my box of clothes and dig for my best pair of jeans. I pair them with a white tank top and worn black leather jacket. Even in leather, with a swipe of mascara and blush, I don’t look like a rockstar’s girlfriend.
I’m plain Jane, all the way.
In the bathroom mirror, I stand back and study my reflection. Hope wheezes from my chest and I deflate like a balloon. We’re not going to fool anyone. Literally anyone with a pair of eyes would know that me and Cash would never pair. But if he wants to give this a shot, I’m game. I’ll play until he doesn’t want to play anymore, because living rent free in New York in a place like this is—well, it’s a dream come true.
Being able to sleep without worrying about who might be in my room, watching me, rummaging through my things, stealing touches in the dark—that’s worth everything. If I have to suffer the humiliation of feeling inferior on the arm of a man like Cash for a good night’s sleep, I’ll suffer without complaint.
But I will buy a tube of lipstick. Apparently, that crap is magic.
I’m going to give it all I’ve got to upsell this fake relationship.
I don’t have to walk far from where the bus drops me to Club Violet. I do, however, have to stand in line and agonize whether or not the bouncer is going to let me in. Most of the girls in line are freezing their tits off in tight little dresses, so I’m not hopeful, but when it comes to my turn and he waves me inside, I move fast.
The sound of Cash’s darkly smooth voice with that blade-like edge hits me instantly. For the first time, I listen to the lyrics, letting them wash over me. He’s not half bad, if I’m being honest. I’m just not used to music like his. Dad likes country, so that’s always been my go-to.
What Cash sings is a rough. There’s an undertone of dark seduction and a promise of a little pain, maybe a touch of violence. He sings about youth in a hopeless world. Growing up, getting older, dying hope. Aging out, no love, family tied by secrets, not blood.
It’s—sad. The crowd is eating it up.
I’m bumped by a stranger as I edge nearer to the stage, and to the man who is supposed to be mine. I steady myself, mostly, but feel the hands of a man gripping my hips anyway. My heart kicks in my chest as I twist to face my would-be saviour if I were in heels.
“Sorry,” I begin, but stop when I see the guy from yesterday. Billy’s friend.
What are the chances?
“Hey. You again.” He smiles broadly, a mouthful ofteeth on display. “Small world.”
“Yeah.” I start to turn, giving him my back when he reaches out for me again. We’re surrounded by dancing bodies, skin glistening with sweat as they move to the sound of my fake boyfriend’s voice.
“You’re not working tonight?”
“Obviously not.”
Billy’s friend doesn’t take the hint. He keeps grinning down at me and introduces, “I’m Riley.”
“Cool.”
His grin doesn’t slip. Not a bit. “You’re mad about last night.”
“No. Just not interested.”
Ah, there’s the fracture in his grin. “No need to be such a bitch.”
I turn away, but again, I feel his hand catch me by the waist, tugging me back. My heart flutters, uncertainty ballooning inside me.
“Don’t touch me.”
