Page 21 of Mending Hearts

“My name is Laura Malone. I got your name from Sarah Telling, who speaks very highly of you. We’re in need of a costume designer-slash-wardrobe person to join Mia Malone’s concert tour for the last three months. Normally, I’d ask for references and an interview, but I’ve already spoken to Sarah, and I understand you’ve worked for Grady Castillo before too.” She cleared her throat. “We may have met in passing at the benefit in Utica. I was in the dressing room when you first started fixing Mia’s costume.”

Realization dawned. I remembered the blonde who’d kept such a watchful eye before disappearing on some errand.She hardly looked older than me.Which made sense since Mia said her mother had been eighteen when she’d gotten pregnant. I closed my eyes. “Right, yes.” I managed to get out. “I remember.”

“I realize this is very last minute, but we need someone to join the tour starting tomorrow night. Is there any chance you’d be willing to jump on board? I can email you a contract to look over.”

“Send me the contract. I’ll take a look and let you know within the hour.” I was glad Mia had told me not to accept right away. According to Mia, nothing made her mother more suspicious than eagerness. “I have a lot on my plate, but for the right incentive, I might be able to shift some things for a few months.” Those words felt sleazy coming out, but Mia had told me to work the money angle. They’d pay me whatever I asked, and Laura needed to believe that she won me.

“Of course. You’ll be more than fairly compensated for taking the job on such short notice.” I could hear the clack of the keyboard over the phone. “I adjusted the numbers and sent the contract. Call me when you’ve reviewed it.”

“Will do.” Without a goodbye, the connection went dead in my ear. I stared at my phone for a minute. So, that was her mother.

The vibration from the email coming in pulled me back to the task at hand. Now, I needed to negotiate like I didn’t care if I got the job while my insides screamed to just say “yes.”

Chapter Seven

Mia

Already, I was doing a terrible job of pretending I didn’t give a shit about Tyler Sullivan. He’d driven a hard bargain in negotiations with my mother, which made her practically swoon when she got off the phone. Since he’d arrived, Laura had taken the lead, showing him around backstage and through various buses. Each time Mom put her hand on his arm, or flicked her hair, or stared up at him like he was the second coming of Tom Ford, I wanted to vomit. This time, the rolling stomach had nothing to do with morning sickness.

“Not like that with him, huh?” Taryn chided in my ear. “You’re launching daggers at him and your mother from across the stage. Do your sound check before she notices.”

Tearing my gaze away, I glared at Taryn. “She’s all over him like a dog in heat. It’s fucking distracting.”

“Distracting? Why’s that? You have a thing for dogs in heat?”

“No, I have a thing for my manager not sexually harassing my employees. It’s illegal.”

Taryn threw her head back and laughed, drawing Rebecca’s attention from a stagehand she’d been talking to at the bottom of the stairs. She took the steps two at a time to join them.

“What’s so funny?”Rebecca asked.

“Mia’s upset that her mother finds the newest addition attractive.”

Rebecca glanced over her shoulder at Laura, cozied up to Tyler as they flipped through some costumes on a rack. “Not my type, but I’m not blind. Objectively, he’s attractive. You know your mother.”

All too well. Other than his age, Tyler didn’t fit the sort of men my mother favored. Wild men who didn’t give a shit about anyone but themselves was her addiction. If there was a bad choice within a mile, Laura Malone would be dry humping him by the end of the night. I crossed my arms and rocked back on a heel, forcing myself not to look at Tyler again. He wasn’t a bad choice, so I had no reason to worry about Mom.

“Sometimes, I think Laura doesn’t want men on the crew because it distracts her more than it’s a danger to you,” Rebecca said.

A danger? I supposed they were, although I wouldn’t have used that word, exactly. Not about these guys on tour. Men were great until they weren’t, and I’d had more than my fair share of them who went after pieces of me or other women as though they were entitled. A hand grazing my ass. A murmured comment about a private show. A low whistle as I wandered past. There were men like that who worked the venues, but they didn’t keep their job long. My mother and I had a reputation. I didn’t need men like them on tour buses, at the gym, at the afterparties in my bus, and as soon as they showed their true colors, they were fired. In my experience, less men meant less hassle, less chance of something going wrong, less chance of amisunderstanding.

In those first heady days and weeks after I’d signed my contract at fourteen, I’d learned about men, especially men who held a hint of power or authority. At the time, someone like me didn’t dare cross them. Usually, they were the ones hitting the emergency stop on an elevator,locking their office doors, cornering me at a party, causing me to look over my shoulder for my mother, clutch her hand tightly, make her promise never to leave me alone with any of them ever again. Once I worked up the guts to tell her, Laura hadn’t left me, not without seeing our secret signal, a sign I was confident whatever man was involved wouldn’t corner me, try to steal something. I gave her the signal the night I asked Tyler to my hotel. With all my heart, I wished I hadn’t.

I finished my sound check and realized Mom had disappeared somewhere, leaving Tyler in the wings of the stage, watching me with his arms crossed, a hint of a smile. A flutter in the pit of my stomach made me want to erect barriers, pretend his presence didn’t matter.

“My mother showed you around?” I breezed past him, barely glancing in his direction.

“She did.” His hands sank into the pockets of his black denim jeans, and he turned on his heel to follow. “Can you run me through your routine with Bonita for costume changes? Laura said a few of them are quick.”

Pasha, my constant shadow, joined me at the end of the stairs, and I didn’t turn to look at Tyler when I called over my shoulder, “Ask your assistant, Verity. She looks after merchandise too, which you’ll oversee. I have things to do. If she’s useless, talk to Taryn or Rebecca. They can run you through or schedule you a couple minutes with me before the show.” My stride never faltered as I headed to the bus.

The next thing on the agenda was a surprise appearance at some superfan’s birthday party. Those events were press generators, and they did one every few months to show how connected I was to my MiaMites. They’d named themselves, obviously.

“Yeah, sure.” Tyler’s heavy footfall paused behind me. “If you’re too busy, Laura offered to give me a breakdown.”

I stopped and half-turned, tilting my head at Tyler. “No. Talk to Verity. If she’s useless, talk to me. For the record, I fuckinghaterepeating myself.” My words were sharp. I didn’t want him spending more time with my clingy mother. Instead of apologizing, I stared him down. So, I was a bitch. Better he learned now. There was no room for softness on tour. He listened, or he left.

Or at least that was how I’d always worked things in the past with the few men I’d struck up an arrangement with, but Tyler wasn’t like them. Sending him away, especially after a certain point, wasn’t an option.

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