Page 34 of Dirty Love

I write them differently. “I gotta go.”

“Kill it,” he says. Then he hangs up.

And I do.

I totally kill it.

I head back into the producer’s bay, prop my hands on my hips, and declare, “The words are all wrong.”

~

It takes another six hours, but we re-write the song and it fucking rocks. I’m so amped by the time we finish that when Grant throws his arm around my shoulders and says we need to celebrate—the first thing he’s said to me in days—I manage not to push him away.

I do want to celebrate. I pivot into Frankie’s arms, then twirl Izzie around in a circle before laying a wet kiss on the cheek of my new back-up singer, Ginger.

“Back to your hotel?” she asks, her eyes twinkling.

I’m tempted, but the motivation for saying yes would be all wrong. “I’m hungry, actually.”

We call for two cars, and when they arrive, I drag Izzie and Ginger into the first one, leaving Grant to ride with Frankie and the producer.

We head to a tapas bar in West Hollywood that’s more club than restaurant. Before long the table we’re standing at is littered with plates and glasses, and I’m three shots into celebrating in style. I don’t hear my phone ring at first, because the music is loud, but Ginger’s next to me and she points to my bag.

I pull it out, ignoring Grant’s curious look. It’s a text, not a call, and again the screen is flashing. The phone number isn’t legit, but I know who it’s from anyway.

003-3000: having a good time?

Tabitha: not now, have a stalker

I add a winking emoticon to soften the words, then reach for my drink, pretending my pulse isn’t racing as I wait for his response. When it comes, I immediately silence the ringer, but I don’t look at the screen. I wait until Grant gets dragged into a conversation with an industry person that stops by, then check it out.

003-3000: just watching your back

Tabitha: not necessary

003-3000: I’ll be the judge of that

That shouldn’t turn me on. Liquid heat rushes though me, a mad wildfire.

Tabitha: we need to have a talk about boundaries

003-3000: we can talk whenever you want

Tabitha: not now, I’m celebrating

003-3000: I can tell; I want you to have fun

Tabitha: are you sure about that?

003-3000: definitely…ask your friend to dance

I glance at Ginger, then look around the room. Where is he? It’s crowded tonight, and there are too many shadows.

Maybe I’ll take his suggestion after all. I click out of the text message screen and my phone stops flickering. When I click back into my messages, there’s no trace of that conversation.

Who the hell are you, Wilson Carter?

A question for another time. I put my phone away in my bag, hand it to Frankie to keep an eye on, and grab Ginger’s hand. “Come on, let’s dance.”

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