Page 81 of Play Fake
“Why pursue him if that’s what you thought?”
“Pursue him?” She laughs as if I’ve said something ridiculous. “Oh honey. He pursued me. For a while. At first, I thought it was just ‘cause he wanted help to get the gig at the Cheshire, but then he made it pretty clear it was more than that.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard from him.”
“Of course not. Now that I kicked his ass to the curb, he wants to go crawling back and he’ll tell you whatever you want to hear to make it happen.”
“I’m not getting back with him.”
“Good for you. You choose that hot blond football player instead?”
My blood runs cold that she knows who Waylon is. Her eyes flash with recognition, like she’s caught me in whatever trap she’s set.
“Oh yeah. I met him too. He introduced himself to me at that show we were all at not long after Ezra and I got together.”
“Right. You’re not even his type.”
“That’s why he took me out to dinner and took me home?”
It’s my turn to laugh now because this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard all night. No way would Waylon take her out. She’s not his type. He knows who and what she is. He and I had an understanding. He was there that night to support me, not pick chicks up, and I believed him when he said he thought Ezra made a mistake when he chose her.
“Don’t hurt yourself thinking about it.” She gives me a dismissive look.
“I’m just trying to figure out why you’re lying to me. What you’re after. If you want Ezra back, go for it. I won’t stand in your way, but for the record, I don’t think he has any interest in you anymore.”
“Lying? I have no reason to lie to you. I can’t help it if every guy you date gets bored and comes running after me.”
“There is no way Waylon took you out.”
“Waylon. Yes, that’s his name. I’d forgotten. He was hot, though. Those tattoos on his side, and that body of his—fucking edible, honestly. Hope you enjoyed it while it lasted. If you don’t believe me, feel free to ask him about the little tapas bar downtown he took me to. While you’re at it, maybe he can help you figure out what you’re doing wrong that you keep ending up alone and I keep ending up with late night ”you up?” texts.”
I go through all the stages of anger in rapid succession, and briefly consider indulging some of them before I realize I need to get out of this room before I do, in fact, choose violence.
She laughs as she sees me pack up my purse and head for the door. I throw it open but stop dead in my tracks.
“Maybe you should figure out what you’re doing wrong, since I can’t seem to find a single person who has something nice to say about you. And the men you sleep with come running back to me to tell me how they fucked up and how much better I am than you.”
“You wish, bitch.” She sneers at me.
“Maybe you should ask Ezra who his latest song is about while you’re at it.” I turn on my heel and storm out the room and down the hallway.
I can already feel the tears pooling in my eyes and the clawing sensation in my throat, and I will be damned if I’m going to let her see it. I’m going to find Ally and tell her I need to leave, and then get the next fucking ride I can to go home. I round the corner to the backstage area while I root through my purse to find my phone when I slam into a hard chest.
“Fuck” We both shout simultaneously and look up.
Ezra.
Just the person I do not want to see right now.
“Zie? What’s wrong? Are you okay? I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” His face is immediately overwrought with concern, and his hands go up to cup either side of my face.
“Yeah, when you brought that stupid redheaded bitch into my life.”
“Fuck. Did she say something? I heard someone say she was here.”
“Oh yeah, she said a lot. A whole fucking lot. Namely, that both you and Waylon seem to have trouble keeping your dicks in your pants where she’s concerned.”
I regret the words as soon as they tumble out. Ezra is the absolute last person I want to know about that information. And then I can’t hold back the tears any longer. An ugly sob racks my body, and I cover my face.
