Page 25 of Last Chorus

“Yeah, that’s right,” I say, then look away, uncomfortable with the acute relief on her face. It was probably one of the teenagers inside posting to their socials, anyway. “Is there another exit?”

Sam answers for her. “They’ve got that covered, too.”

I sigh. “All right. Let me make a quick call, then we’re out of here whether or not we have backup. I can make it fifteen feet.”

He nods and shifts so he’s blocking the front door. Technically, as members of the public paparazzo have the right to enter a restaurant, though they rarely do because of harassment and privacy laws. I’m still glad Sam is in the way. I’ll have to deal with the vultures soon enough.

Frank claps me on the shoulder. “My bike’s parked around back, so Belinda’s gonna show me out. Call me, okay?”

“Will do. Thanks, Frank.”

“Good luck, champ.”

When he’s gone, I skirt around the host station into a short hallway and dial Shelley. She picks up on the first ring, not bothering with hello.

“Happy New Year, right? Good news and bad news. The bad is that I’m hungover and my phone won’t stop ringing, so thanks for that. The good news is the article is flattering. Well, maybe not flattering since it implies Eva cheated on Clay Eaton with you last night. But as I see it?—”

“Hold up,” I bark. “Cheated? We barely spoke for five minutes. Who the fuck said this?”

There’s a minuscule pause and an equally short exhale. “You haven’t read the article. Okay. In summary, unnamed people saw you and Eva sneak off to a bedroom last night. There are no photos, which is good. Also good, streaming numbers for both Night Theory and Glow have skyrocketed?—”

“Nothing about this is good,Shelley,” I say through my teeth. “You know there’s a double standard for this shit. Even a rumor of Eva cheating will follow her in the press for years.”

Her tone softens. “I know. I have more news on that front. I spoke to Glow’s publicist, Anita Allman. Super weird convo, to be honest, but the moral of the story is she wants our help redirecting the narrative. I have a feeling you won’t like the ask, though.”

“What is it?”

“She wants you to have lunch with Eva and Clay tomorrow at Café Doux in Beverly Hills. The spin is that last night was childhood friends running into each other and catching up. Vibe for lunch is smiles and laughs all around—documented, of course. Voilà, heat’s off and cheating rumors are dead in the water.”

As her words sink in, my skin starts crawling. The mere thoughtof having to sit across from Clay and pretend like I don’t want to murder him has meslumping against a wall. What if he touches her?Kissesher in front of me?

I don’t think I can do it. I’m not that good of an actor.

When I’m silent too long, Shelley says softly, “From a PR standpoint, I have no problem with you declining. We can mitigate the backlash another way. Release a statement of our own, accept a few interview requests. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

I press a thumb to the spiking tension in my forehead. “Are you sure Eva’s on board with this? With lunch?”

Shelley’s voice lowers again. “That’s the weird part. With the history between you guys, I was surprised she agreed. No offense.”

I grunt. “None taken. Why is it weird?”

“Well, since I was so surprised, I fished a bit. Anita was cagey at first but cracked. She didn’t speak to Eva at all. This is coming from?—”

“Clay,” I finish, his name a bitter burst in my mouth. “He’s definitely orchestrating this. Dude hates me. He’s probably hoping I say no so he can blame me for any fallout.”

“Huh. I didn’t realize you had history with him, too.”

I almost smile at the poorly veiled curiosity in her voice. Knowing the details won’t leave our phone call, I offer, “I dated his stepsister years ago. Around the sametime, she stopped sleeping with him. He blames me for her change of heart.”

Shelley chokes on air and coughs for a good ten seconds, then finally gasps out, “What in the daytime drama?”

“Less soap opera, moreDateline.” I bite my cheek before I tell her the whole truth. “Trust me, he’s not a good person.”

“He sounds like a nightmare,” she says seriously. “My call with Anita suddenly makes a lot more sense. She definitely doesn’t like him. Is this one of those toxic-boyfriend-becomes-manager situations?”

I wince, regretting opening my mouth. “Maybe. I honestly don’t know. Can we move on?”

“Of course,” she says gently. “What are your thoughts about tomorrow?”

---