Page 28 of Tiebreaker

“My treat,” he says and he bends down next me as if he's looking at a display of jewelry directly beside me. “Since I left you hanging in the car and all that,” he says under his breath. Immediately my face is hot and I'm blushing. I try to look away.

“Is there anything we can show you?” an assistant comes behind the jewelry display, her perfectly manicured fingers tapping on the countertop. I feel grubby and shabby across from her. She's the kind of woman that Everett should be taking out to dinner.

Heh, he might evenlikeher. She's got glossy blonde hair that falls all the way to her waist, and she's wearing a french-style striped shirt with slender sleeves that end right above her elbows. It's classy and boat-necked and matches her black jeans that I swear cost at least $500 from how they fit. She looks effortless, like she emerged from bed looking polished and poised. I feel like I’m still wearing my coffee shop apron with bags under my eyes.

“I think that looks nice,” he says as he points to one necklace and glances over me. It sparkles as it sways, aquamarine stone glistening under the shop lights. “What do you think, sweetheart?”

I glare at him.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” I remind him and the shopkeeper laughs under her breath nervously.

He shakes his head and grins at her.

“I’m trying to convince her to go out with me. But you know, girls these days they like to play hard to get.” He shrugs, the picture of a heartbroken prince.

She is all googly eyes at him.

“Oh, of course,” she says agreeing stupidly. That’s not fair, she’s probably not stupid.

“Don’t encourage him,” I growl and give her half-smile when she glances at me with surprise on her face. Kai laughs, clapping his hand on his chest before his expression turns serious.

“The necklace,” he says, “we’ll get it.”

He hasn’t even asked how much it costs. I mean, I’m not exactly surprised but still. I hold back and uncomfortable grumble.

“I’m gonna go try on those dresses,” I say and walk towards the back of the shop.

He waves me off, leaning forward to talk to the counter girl as she starts packing up the necklace. Maybe I can convince him to give it to her instead of me.

I don’t want to feel like I owe him anything.

“He's so brave,” sighs one girl quietly, as I look through the racks. All these clothes are so beautiful. I finger the delicate sequins, on a T shirt, a silver skull with roses for eyes picked out in beads.

Out of curiosity and lift up the tag and see that it’s- Oh God, definitely not. I drop it immediately and back away. There’s more store attendants at the back, clustered behind a rack of winter coats.

They don't seem to realize that I'm here and they're talking in hushed voices.

“Did you read that article about him on Pitchfork?” The first girl asks,

“Yeah all about the overdose inspired him to write an album. And that's how he got signed, because it was so emotional.”

“So real,” says the first, with a gusty sigh.

I freeze, waiting to hear more.

Kai overdosed? I don’t remember hearing about that, but it’s not like I’ve paid much or any attention the glitterati and what they’re up to.

Or I didn’t before.

But he survived. I glance down the store at where Kai is talking, the picture of health, straining the fabric of his shirt with well-defined muscles. He doesn’tlooklike he’d had an addiction problem.

I guess you really can’t judge.

“I can’t believe his best friend was the one that got his brother hooked on it,” the first continues. My heart skips a beat. I try to discretely stare at the two of them between two piles of hats. “That’s why he wrote that diss track about him. Vin’s Sins or something? The guy’s name was Vincent, so I guess it was a play on words-”

“Ladies, please,” a manager has clearly arrived, unhappy that they're gossiping about one of the guests. I’m frozen there, hand half-lifted toward the sequin t-shirt.

Vincent. As in…Vincent-Vincent. The information overloads my brain, short-circuiting it. And a brother? Kai had a brother who’d had a drug problem? Which one of them had overdosed?

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