Page 37 of Selling Out
I don’t respond. Itislike me. I had a much better time with Mia than I would’ve had back here. Tonight I realized just how much I like Mia. Which is why it sucked so badly when she reminded me what she really thinks. To her, I’m a talentless musician with no boundaries whatsoever.
And maybe she’s right. I’ve always taken the attitude that I’d do whatever it took to be successful. It’s gotten me this far, so I guess I can’t totally regret it, but it does leave me wondering whether I actually have any talent. If I did, would my label reject song after song from me?
“You two seem to get along well,” Paul says in the least subtle way imaginable.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He tosses a pillow at me. “Come on, man. Talk to me. Is there something going on there?”
“What? No.”But I wish there was. I don’t want to wish that. Women only spell trouble. I’ve discovered and rediscovered and rerediscovered it. They come for the fame, and I let myself get attached at my own peril.
“Good,” Paul says.
I look over at him, frowning. “What does that mean?”
He sits up and runs a hand through his hair, then grabs his jacket. “It just makes things a lot simpler. For both of you.”
I sit up too, watching him. “Simpler how?”
“Those kinds of things—entanglements, according to Jada Pinkett-Smith—tend to backfire and cause problems we don’t need on tour. Fusion is watching, and any problems make a U.S. leg less likely. Besides… Austin.” He quirks a brow at me. “Come on, man. You’re becoming an icon. You think all these young ladies want to see you off the market? It’d crush their dreams… and spur a slew of ticket returns.” He grabs his phone, scrolling through his notifications. “Mia doesn’t need that kind of hate directed her way when she’s just starting out, and neither do you.”
I clench my teeth. Paul isn’t even thinking about what he’s saying, which is why I’m not mad at him. But it’s insult to injury. Clearly, Mia isn’t the only one who thinks my fans are here for something other than my music.
“Well,” I say, lying down, “like I said. Not something you need to worry about.”
He turns off his phone and smiles at me. “Great. You should get some sleep. We head out early tomorrow. It’s a four-hour ride to Munich, and we’ve got to get settled in and check out the venue.”
I salute him, and he disappears into the back of the bus where our beds are.
I pull out my phone and open my text messages, scrolling to the ones with Mia. I saved my number in her phone asBabe, but there’s no way she hasn’t changed it yet. The last text in the thread is from me, apologizing about her not getting to see the city when I promised her she would.
She didn’t even respond.
I scroll to the photo I sent her. If Paul needs evidence there’s nothing between us, this photo would serve as Exhibit A. She doesn’t want to be anywhere close to me.
Of course not. She probably has a higher opinion of Dolores Umbridge than of me.
It’s not like it was a total surprise. She’s teased me a lot about my songs and my way of going about my career.
But this was different. Shewasn’tteasing. It just slipped out, as the truth often does.
I stare at her in the picture—the way she’s pulling away and looking annoyed.
I’m envious of her. She’s got crazy talent, but she’s also got integrity. I tossed that second thing out the window the minute it became a roadblock to getting where I wanted to go. I can’t blame anyone else for agreeing to the ridiculously tight contract I signed. I was desperate to have a label behind me, and Paul was new enough to managing he didn’t push me hard to ask for changes to the contract. We’ve both come to regret that. Mightily.
But I didn’t come this far just to give up or mess things up.My contract with Fusion lasts another year and a half, and then I’ll be able to find someone who will let me do my music my way.
I’ve just got to make it until then. In the meantime, I can rein in whatever I’m feeling for Mia. For her sake and mine, like Paul said.
I bounceup and down on my heels, blowing a breath through rounded lips as I stand in the wings of the stage in Munich. For whatever reason, Germans really like me, and tonight is set to be our second-biggest venue.
Paul grips my shoulder. “Big night.”
“Yep.” I rub my hands together, feeling more nervous than usual.
“You’ve got a rabid fanbase here, Austin, and they arereadyfor you.”
The screaming intensifies as the opening act finishes up.
