Page 38 of It Happened on a Sunday
Yeah, and if you believe that, Sloane, I’ve got a Vegasheadliner gig you can just walk away from… Oh wait.
In the end, I leave the journal exactly where it is. No matter how much I love the music, some notes aren’t meant to be recorded.
A soft knock sounds on the door, and a few seconds later, Bianca sticks her head in. “You ready?” she asks. “It’s just about time to head over for the show.”
My stomach pitches at her words. The stage fright is starting extra early today. I know it’s because of everything that’s happened—the hundreds of phone calls, thousands of messages, and tens of thousands of posts about Sly and me that are coming at my team like Sly’s damn Twisters.
“Yeah,” I answer, my voice sounding thin even to my own ears. “Just let me get my shoes.”
There’s a question in Bianca’s eyes when they meet mine, but I just shake my head. The show must go on.
A little more than an hour later, I’ve got my makeup on, my hair done, and I’m back in the dress I was wearing the night I met Sly. I don’t know if my stylist did it on purpose, but as I pace the room, wriggling around in the corset she’s pulled just a hairsbreadth too tight, all I can think about is him.
The deep, comforting timbre of his voice. The kindness in his smile.
The awareness in his fascinating, dark-brown eyes.
The knowledge that I’m going to lose all that fills me with a deep sadness that I’m used to…and an even deeper anger that I’m not.
“You know, you really don’t have to say no.” Pauline’s voice is uncharacteristically subdued as she watches me pace back and forth from her spot on the dressing room sofa. “You could just go out with him and see where it goes.”
“Really?” I whirl around to face her. “You know better than most why I can’t. It goes against everything you taught me.” Ipitch my voice higher, so it can sound like hers. “‘You’re not a Christmas tree, Sloane. Don’t ever let someone else plug you in and light you up. That power belongs to you.’”
“Well, when I said that I hadn’t seenhisplug,” my mentor answers with a wicked little grin that startles a laugh out of me, despite all the emotions raging inside.Who even am I today?
“Yeah, well, you still haven’t seen his plug.” I smirk. “So don’t get too excited.”
“Now why do you always have to go and spoil my fun? I’m old, not dead.” Today’s color is a bright, powerful blue. As Pauline talks, she slides her long cobalt nails against each other like a makeshift washboard, her rhythm reminding me of that damn melody I haven’t been able to shake. This would be a nice beat for it, actually. “And if Sly Sylvester was afterme, I can assure you, I’d know exactly what to do.”
“I’m pretty sure hewouldbe after you if he thought he had a chance.” I smile despite myself.
“I do still have it.” She flips today’s sapphire bob before adding, “Don’t let what might be steal the joy from what is, baby. Just because people come poking at you doesn’t mean you have to give them anything. What other people think of you is…” She waves an elegant hand, dismissing the hypothetical critiques.
“My career depends on what people think of me.” I shove a frustrated hand through my hair, at this point not even caring about messing up Mandy’s perfectly imperfect work. “It’s easy tosayI won’t give him power over me. But I said the same thing about the last two.”
Pain swamps me, threatening to drag me down, as images of Jarrod flash through my head.
Laughing as he whirls me around under a sparkling disco ball. Meditating as he holds my hand on an early-morning beach. Sobbing as he falls to the floor in front of me and begs me to stay.
Tears bloom in my eyes, and my knees start to shake, but Ilock them in place as I blink away the pain, the regrets. Then I shove the memories back down, pushing them deep into the tiny, visceral part of my soul that I spend most days pretending doesn’t exist.
God, I’m tired.
“I’m sorry, Pauline. I just can’t risk it,” I tell her firmly. “Iwon’trisk it. I have no plans to date again—at least not anytime soon. And if I do eventually decide I want a relationship, it sure as hell won’t be with someone almost as famous as I am.”
No matter how warm and fuzzy he makes me feel.
Pauline holds her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “All I’m saying is, life is a choose-your-own adventure. If you let someone else make the choices for you, you’ll never be satisfied.”
“Almost every choice in my life is made by someone else.” Everything from the clothes I wear to the food I eat from catering is dictated by someone on my team.
“Figure out what you want, Sloane. And then go get it. Whether you believe it or not, you’ve earned it.”
“I want peace,” I tell her, determined not to back down. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Pauline throws back her head and laughs. “Sugar, I don’t know if you’re lying to me or yourself, but I do know that no one gets into this industry because they want peace. If they did, they’d be in a different one.”
Before I can tell her how wrong she is, my tour coordinator opens the door. Jace looks me over from head to toe like he’s checking for signs of damage. When he doesn’t find any—I make sure to keep that shit locked up tight—he launches straight into, “Encore?”
