Page 81 of Sing For Me

“How big a problem is this, Griffin?” I ask.

“It’s a big fucking problem.”

Griffin wasn’t a huge fan of this show happening, but didn’t put up a stink about it when we all made it clear he wouldn’t be involved or even mentioned. None of us really know what his work entails, but there are security concerns, we know that much. None of our marketing materials include him. He’s not even named in our business materials, though it’s not a secret he’s part owner.

But his face being plastered on big-screen billboards all over the world…

Anger bubbles up in my chest and I make a fist on the table. Kelly. “I was clear with Kelly that Griffin wasn’t to be featured or named anywhere.”

Cass knows what I’m thinking. “Didn’t they sign something?”

I grimace, my stomach sinking. “No.”

That’s on me. I was idiotic enough to assume I could trust Kelly. That and the fact that Griffin wasn’t at any of the photoshoots.

“Griff, I’m sorry.” I stand up, leaning on the desk. “I’m going to fix this.”

“I’m not sure how, unless you can go back in fucking time,” Griffin says.

I hang my head. It’s not the words that he says, but the tone he says them. For all his tough and mysterious persona, I know Griffin. He’s my baby brother, the one who came right after me and Cass. I looked out for him, until he was old enough to look out for himself. He trusts me. And I let him down.

The line disconnects.

“Fuck,” I shout, swiping the pamphlets off the desk with an angry slap.

Then I look up at the rest of the group, all with various expressions of concern on their faces. I zero in on Cass. “If Sarah says she can accelerate the project, and it’s what you really want to do, then do it. I don’t fucking care, honestly.”

Then I leave the room before I quit on the spot.

As I storm out of the room, I grab my phone and call the one person I don’t want to.

Kelly.

“Eli,” she says, a little breathlessly.

I can’t remember the last time I called her.

“Why is Griffin on the show’s marketing material?”

I expect her to defend herself, or deny she knows. Or worse, to hang up. It’s Friday night; she’s probably with Neil, probably on a plane. They talked about going back to New York this weekend. But there’s silence on the other end of the line.

“Where are you?” she asks, finally.

“Does it matter? Answer the question.”

I’ve never talked to her like this. At least I haven’t since the worst days of our divorce, when I found out she’d started seeing that fucking guy at her channel only weeks after I moved out. I started seeing Reese after that.

God, what a fucking shit show.

Kelly sighs. “I’m sorry, Eli. It was too late when I found out. Some intern at the ad agency found the photo and the channel approved it before I saw.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

I can’t help think of the irony of this situation. How I’m withholding something from Reese the same way.

“There might be people in danger because of this. My brother might be in danger.”

I don’t know if that’s true—I don’t think it is. Griffin would be more careful if that was the case. He’d have had everything destroyed. But it’s still a problem. And it still never should have happened.Ishould have never let it happen—this is my fault.

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