Falling out of Hate With You

LAILA

When I enter the party, I’m blasted with blaring music combined with the loud din of laughter and chatter. I take in the grandeur sprawling before me, my lips parted in awe. Reed’s house is magnificent—a modern-day palace. Which makes sense, since Reed Rivers is the King of LA—a music mogul known in the industry as “The Man with the Midas Touch.”

I scan the expansive room, looking for any sign of my good friend, Aloha. A few minutes ago, she texted she’d find me near Reed’s front door when I arrived, but I don’t see any sign of her. What I do see, however, is wall-to-wall glamour and hotness. It’s silly for me to feel this way, given how much awesomeness has happened in relation to my debut album this past year and a half, but finally getting to attend one of Reed’s legendary parties makes me feel like I’ve really and truly arrived, every bit as much as attending the Grammys earlier this year.

My eyes drift as I await Aloha and stop short when I spot my celebrity crush across the large, crowded room. He’s Adrian Savage from Fugitive Summer. If you ask me, Savage is the hottest man alive. Dark hair and eyes. A jawline that could cut glass. A chiseled physique that looks like it was forged in tan marble. And all of it made especially panty melting by his omnipresent “big dick energy.” An attitude that apparently isn’t false advertising, based on those notoriously mouthwatering photos of him in the shower.

At present, Mr. Donkey Dick is throwing back shots with his bandmates, all of whom I recognize but haven’t met. And I must say, he’s every bit as gorgeous in person as in his leaked photos and music videos and promo. Even more so, actually. Because, in person, I can physically feel Savage’s undeniable charisma, even from across a crowded room.

“Laila!”

I wrench my eyes off Mr. Perfect and discover Aloha walking toward me with our mutual agent, Daria Brown. When Aloha and I returned from our tour last year, she generously introduced me to Daria, her hot-shot agent, one of the best in the business—and then proceeded to convince Daria she’d be a fool not to take me on as a client, despite the fact that I’m still a relative newbie in this industry. But that’s Aloha for you. From day one of our friendship, when I was nothing but an opener with a debut album to promote, she’s never once hesitated to help me out and cheer me on and show me the ropes.

After hugging me in greeting, Daria says, “I’ve got some exciting news for you, Little Miss Laila!” Her smile widens with excitement, revealing white teeth that gleam against her beautiful dark skin. “I sealed the deal! You’re going to be a mentor on the eighteenth season of Sing Your Heart Out!”

I gasp in disbelief, slapping my palm to my cheek. “I don’t believe it!”

“Believe it, girl. It’s official.”

I launch myself at Daria and wrap her in a grateful hug. “This is a dream come true!”

When we disengage from our hug, Daria tells me the basics of the deal. I’ll be assigned to Aloha’s team of contestants, thankfully. That’s exciting. Also, per usual for mentors, I’ll only appear in one episode, but Daria assures me even one episode on a juggernaut like ~Sing Your Heart Out ~will introduce me to ~millions ~of new fans. I ask a few questions and find out my shooting schedule won’t be set for several months yet, since the show is currently shooting the season prior to mine. “The pay is basically nothing,” Daria explains. “Union scale. But I ~promise~ the exposure will be well worth it.”

“Oh, I don’t care what they pay me,” I say. “I’d pay them to get to be on the show.”

Daria flags down a roving server and the three of us grab flutes of champagne. With a loud whoop, we clink and drink and talk excitedly about the amazing news. But when the topic of conversation shifts, and Aloha and Daria fall into a conversation about a career decision for Aloha, I can’t resist sneaking a peek at Mr. Perfect across the party again.

This time, when I peep Savage, I’m shocked and thrilled to discover he’s not focused on his friends, like last time. This time, he’s looking straight at me. My heart stops as Savage’s dark eyes fix on mine, but I try to play it off like I’m totally unfazed and only vaguely interested, if at all. I know full well what I’m dealing with here—the kind of guy who can get ~any~ woman at this party. Actually, in the world. So, of course, on pure instinct, I’m instantly hell-bent on making him think he can’t get ~me. ~

To my surprise, Savage doesn’t look away, but continues brazenly staring at me, his dark eyes smoldering and his jaw set. Until…Oh, no! Shit! I waited too long to look away and let him do it first. Stupid Laila. Talk about a rookie mistake.

Granted, Savage’s buddy—the drummer in the band, I think?—put his arm around Savage’s shoulders, diverting his attention. So, I don’t think Savage looked away from me out of a lack of interest. But, still, it was a dumb error by me, all the same. With players like Adrian Savage, a girl should ~always ~be the first to look away. ~Always. ~She needs to be the one who couldn’t care less. Now that Savage knows he’s got me hooked on his line—which is ~exactly ~the opposite of what I should let him think—who knows if I’ll be able to attract his attention again tonight. ~Damn.~

“Laila?”

I return to Aloha and Daria to find it’s Daria who’s spoken my name.

Daria continues, “When does Reed plan to release your second album?”

I’m flustered. Still reeling from the exciting news about the show. Feeling aroused by that sexy smolder Savage flashed me. Also, pissed as hell I’ve stumbled so stupidly in my effort to ensnare him.

“Oh. Uh.” I take a deep breath, collecting myself. “We’re not finished recording, but close. We only have a few more minor things to add before sending it off to mixing and mastering. At that point, we’ll set the schedule for release, promo, and a tour.”

Aloha smirks. “Who were you looking at, babe?”

“Huh? Me? Nobody. When?”

“Just now.” Aloha flashes me a side-eye. “Who was it, honey? I know you. Somebody’s got you all worked up.”

I blush. On tour, Aloha teased me all the time for being attracted to players and fuckboys. The ones who are the most fun to bring to their knees—but the least likely to stay there for long. “Yeah, I was being true to form. Having a staring contest with Savage from Fugitive Summer.”

Aloha giggles. “Oh, God, Laila. You’re so predictable. Didn’t you learn your lesson with Shawn?” She’s talking about my last boyfriend—a rookie basketball player for the Clippers I dated about six months ago. Shawn pursued me relentlessly, at first, and said all the right things…before turning out to be the world’s biggest d-o-g when he finally felt certain he had me.

Aloha looks at Daria. “Poor Laila has the worst taste in men. They’re always gorgeous. The hottest guys in the room. But nice boys need not apply.”

“Ugh. I can relate,” Daria says. She winks at me. “It’s a sickness, isn’t it? Pure insanity, in the true sense of the word, to think, over and over again, we can be the ones to tame them.”

“Exactly,” I murmur, rolling my eyes at myself. “The problem is…it’s so damned fun bringing a cocky bastard to his knees. Truly, my favorite past-time, though I haven’t had the pleasure in a while.”

Daria laughs. “Girl, you’re my spirit animal. Oh, by the way, honey, don’t post about being on the show yet, okay? The deal is done and official. But they’re not promoting the next season until this one wraps up. I’m sure they’ll want to be the one to announce all new cast members for the next season.”

“Is it okay if I tell my mom and sister?”

“Only if you’re positive they won’t blab about it to ~anyone, ~even unintentionally~.~ The producers are insane about controlling all promo.”

“I’ll wait, then. Better safe than sorry. My mom would never purposefully let the cat out of the bag, but who knows what she might say, unintentionally, while drinking wine with her best friends.” I sigh happily. “My mom will be so excited when she hears the news. We never missed Sing Your Heart Out in my house. Every week, my family watched and dreamed of me being on the show one day.”

It’s a true statement, although, technically, we dreamed of me being the winner of the singing competition. Or, better yet, a full-time judge on the show, like Aloha is now. But there’s no reason for me to say any of that to Daria, after she’s secured such an amazing windfall for me, this early in my career. The singing competition attracts icons to its ranks, even as mentors. The fact that Daria secured a spot for me at all is close to a miracle.

“I truly can’t thank you enough, Daria,” I say. “This is the chance of a lifetime.”

“It’s Aloha who deserves most of the credit,” Daria replies. “She joined me on the conference call with the producers and convinced them they’d be stupid not to hire you.”

I clutch my heart. “Aloha! You did not! Thank you!”

Aloha shrugs. “You were a tough sell, dude. They were convinced you’re a raving bitch who’d be a nightmare to work with, thanks to your face.”

I burst out laughing at the inside joke. During our tour together, Aloha and I teased each other constantly about our resting bitch faces. For both of us, unless we’re literally smiling from ear to ear, we look like we’re sulking or plotting murder. As a child star on the Disney channel for a decade, Aloha expertly learned to mask her resting bitch face with a perma-smile. But me? Not so much. On a daily basis, someone who doesn’t know me will undoubtedly ask, “Are you okay, Laila? Is something wrong?” Even when I’m feeling light as a feather and happy as a clam.

Aloha sips her drink. “No, actually, you were an easy sell, Laila. I told them you’re the perfect combination of sassy and sweet. The kind of person who’ll give the sweetest encouragement to the contestants while doling out unparalleled death glares to Hugh, whenever he acts like a jackass blowhard during the all-cast round table. Which, of course, he will. And, voila, the producers were sold.”

I giggle and raise my glass. “To aud-sassity!” It’s what Aloha and I have coined our special brand of badassery. Audacious sassiness. And Aloha and Daria clink my glass and whoop, just as the host of the party, Reed Rivers, walks up.

“Wow, looks like I’ve found the epicenter of the party,” he says. He greets everyone, and we quickly tell him the reason for our toast. Of course, Reed congratulates me on the amazing news and we chat about it for a bit. But when Aloha’s darling husband, Zander, the sweetest guy in the world, appears, Aloha excuses herself to meet some friends outside. And just like that, I’m alone with Daria and Reed, two of the biggest power brokers in the music industry, and neither of them is telling me to “scram, kid.” Seriously, how did I get here?

Reed says, “When it rains it pours, Laila. I’ve got some exciting news for you, too.” He pauses for effect, his dark eyebrow raised. “The opener for Fugitive Summer’s domestic leg had to bow out, unexpectedly, for personal reasons. So, I’ve decided to push up the release of your album and send you in their place.”

I gasp. “Are you serious?”

“Very serious,” Reed says, just as none other than the drummer of Fugitive Summer approaches the group.

“Hey, Reed,” he says. “Oh, Laila Fitzgerald!”

And before he says another word, I throw myself into his muscled arms and thank him, profusely, for the amazing opportunity. “I’m so excited!” I shriek. “I love Fugitive Summer!”

“Wow,” the drummer says, laughing. “Good to meet you, too.”

Reed says, “I just told Laila the exciting news that she’s joining your tour. You know, because Alexa Play Music had to bow out?”

“Aaah,” the drummer says, returning my hug. “That’s awesome. I’m so glad you told her the news, Reed. That’s actually what I was coming over to do.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

I pull away from the drummer, laughing. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all.” He smiles adorably and puts out his hand. “I’m Kendrick Cook, by the way.”

I shake his hand maniacally. “I know! I’m so glad to meet you. Thank you so much for coming over here to welcome me to the tour! That was incredibly sweet of you, Kendrick!”

Kendrick looks at Reed and smiles. “Of course, Laila. We’re all super excited to have you aboard.”

“You are? Oh my gosh! What an honor! ~Thank you~!” My heart racing, I glance excitedly across the room toward Savage, all prior “I don’t give a shit” pretense impossible now. And once again, I’m ecstatic to find him already staring at me. Which makes perfect sense now. Obviously, the band has been sitting on this thrilling news, waiting to see my reaction when Reed finally let the cat out of the bag.

Practically bursting with excitement, I smile broadly at Savage, letting him know, yes, Reed and Kendrick have delivered the amazing, exciting, shocking, thrilling news to me—although, I’m sure Savage has already surmised that fact, given the way I hugged his drummer just now. But to my dismay and acute humiliation, Savage doesn’t return my goofy, no-holds-barred smile. Instead, on the contrary, he frowns in the face of my exuberance and immediately looks away like I’ve greatly offended him. Like he’s pissed about me joining the tour.

And suddenly, I know the heated staring contest we had a few moments ago wasn’t proof of our mutual attraction, like I thought. It was evidence of Savage’s disdain for me. His objection to me joining his band on tour. Clearly, Mr. Rockstar doesn’t think I’m worthy of the opportunity, but Reed is calling the shots, against his will. I’ve heard rumors that sometimes happens in the world of River Records—Reed calling the shots against an artist’s will. And now I know the rumors are true.

Shit.

I’m going to be stuck on tour with a guy who’s not happy I’m there. A guy who’s not only gorgeous and brooding and talented and hot…but also a flaming fucking dick.