Page 35 of #Moonstruck

“That’s why you talk about her in the past. Because she’s not really there anymore.”

I nodded, my throat aching. “I found out later that there weren’t any skid marks near the pole. She ran into it deliberately. Because of the accident, everything she said that night has taken on these mythical proportions with us. If she’d said something stupid, like ‘Figure out a way to naturally turn your skin purple,’ we’d all still be working on a way to make that happen. It’s why Cole works as a baker, why they’re so crazily overprotective of me. Why we decided to form a band and have stuck with our dream of making it. Why Fitz, even though he’s almost twenty-eight, still lives at home instead of moving on with his life.”

“And it’s why you don’t date musicians.”

“That’s part of it,” I agreed. “It’s also because of the type of man my father is. Not only was he a terrible father, but he’s just an awful person. He uses women like these tissues. He seems to really enjoy getting them pregnant and then abandoning him. Other families have family trees; my father’s on a personal quest to create his own family vineyard.”

Ryan seemed to consider that for a moment. “Where is he now?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t keep track of him. Last I heard he was in Europe trying to single-handedly solve their depopulation issues by impregnating every woman he meets. He’s obviously succeeding, given that my brothers just told me he announced yet another baby. I’m not even sure what number that is. Twenty-two? Twenty-three?”

He let out a whistle. “That is a ton of kids.”

“I know I shouldn’t hate him. But he left. He gets to go out and make whole new families and forget we exist. He destroyed my mom. He destroyed my family. And he doesn’t have to care or be held responsible. He just walked away.”

“That’s ... you’re dealing with a lot.”

I knew it was a lot. But Ryan had said he could handle it. “All I know is I don’t ever want to be my mom. I don’t ever want to end up with a man like that.”

“Not all musicians are like your dad. Not every guy you meet is going to be a bad guy.”

I wanted so badly to believe that. But everything I’d ever witnessed, every musician I’d ever met, had been a player like my father. Breaking hearts in one city and then just moving on to the next.

Not wanting to consider Ryan’s statement, I went back to telling him why I was upset. “In addition to finding out about the new baby, my brothers also surprised me with the fact that they’d failed to mention we were three months behind in paying for my mom’s room and board. Fitz told me a little while ago that we’d probably have to sell our house to continue paying for her medical care. Which I shouldn’t care about. It’s just four walls and a roof, right? But I can’t bear the thought of selling it. If we sell it, then we’re admitting she’s never coming home. Logically, I know that’s true, but I don’t want to have to give up hope, you know?” I sighed again, pulling out a new tissue just to shred it apart and give my hands something to do. “Anyway, if we don’t come up with the overdue money by next Friday, they’re going to kick her out, and I don’t know what we’ll do then. I hate to ask you, but I was hoping we could get an advance or something.”

“I wish it were up to me. But the record label’s involved with the payouts, and they’d never allow it. How much do you need?”

I told him, and he immediately got out his phone and called a man named Arthur. He told Arthur to get him a check in that amount.

When he hung up, I said, “You can’t. I can’t just take money from you. It’s too much.”

Ryan put his phone on the table, and it made me uneasy that he wouldn’t look at me. “There’s a way you can earn it, if you’re interested.”

“Honestly? I’d do just about anything.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly at that. “Anything?”

“Obviously, there’re exceptions. Given the way you’re looking at me, I feel an exception coming on right now.”

Why were his little smirks so endearing? “For the last few years, I’ve wanted to change my sound. I want my music to reflect what I listen to. What I love. Which is hard because my fans, much as I adore them, don’t want me to change. It’s like they want to stick me in some time capsule where I’m fourteen forever, singing the same songs over and over. Which I get, because when you’re at a concert to see your favorite band, the most disappointing words in the English language are ‘Here’s something from our new album!’ But I do consider myself to be an artist. I want to grow. Try new things. Adding you guys to the tour was the first step in moving in that direction. I wanted my audience to hear you, like your music, and then maybe it wouldn’t be such a leap for me to change things up a bit.”

So far this all sounded okay. Why was my heart beating so hard? And why did he look so uneasy? “Okay. And?”

“The other thing I need to change is my image. You’re not the only one who thinks I’m a manwhore. My label thinks I’m immature and not to be trusted. When I said I wanted to make my next album more rock, they said I had to prove myself first. That I take myself and my career seriously. My publicist suggested I accomplish that by having a girlfriend. A fake one so there wouldn’t be any public blowups and so it wouldn’t end badly.” He gave me a pointed look, and all the puzzle pieces fell into place.

Was I understanding this right? “You want to pay me to pretend to be your girlfriend? Why? You can just go downstairs and pick one. They’ll all say yes.”

“Why? Because I don’t need a groupie or someone potentially crazy. I need someone like you. Smart, talented, beautiful, and relatively normal. You need the money, and I need a woman who can be discreet. Plus, you’re very convenient.”

“Just what every girl longs to hear. That she’s convenient.” Even though his compliments thrilled me in a way I didn’t know was possible, something still felt icky about the whole thing. “But if you pay me to be your girlfriend, doesn’t that basically make me a prostitute?”

“Only if we sleep together.”

Whoa. “That is not happening.”

His smile let me know he’d been trying to make a joke. “I know. Notching is out of the question. We’ll obviously take sex off the table.”

“Let’s take it off all the surfaces because it isn’t going to happen.” Even if my girlie parts thought it sounded like an interesting idea. “You think you’re going to prove that you’re more mature and responsible by having a fake girlfriend?”

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