smile, “so is
second. I can give you fifth. Maybe.”
Ben
laughs, but there’s
a note of disappointment in it.
“Well
if I can’t have
dibs,” he says,
raising his glass, “I
can sure offer the best deal.”
“Now
that’s more like
it,” I say.
Ben
laughs again before leaning in to whisper something in my ear.
“You
really lucked out here, Brando. I don’t
know how, but you really did.”
Ben
leaves and I turn my attention to Haley.
“Another
drink?”
“No,”
she says, the smile that’s
been plastered onto her face since she came off the stage to
rapturous applause still there, “I
think I’m drinking
too much.”
“If
ever there was a night to drink too much, it’s
this one. Most of these schmucks usually leave halfway through.
They’re only here to
get an audience with the future star.”
“You
were the only audience I needed,” Haley
says, squeezing my bicep before turning away to gaze at the crowd,
which has now morphed into a rush of celebrity musicians. “I
can’t believe how
many famous people are here. I thought it was only record execs.”
“Musicians
tend to like talking business over a loud song and some alcohol.
Executives, on the other hand, tend to start living like musicians
when they spend so much time around them.”
“Is
that…Annabelle
Church?” Haley says,
gawking at the girl in a see-through dress that seems to glide
through the entrance.
“Yeah.
Probably here in the hope that dress will get her some funds for her
next record.”
Haley
turns to me suddenly, eyes filled with surprise.
“But…she’s huge. ”
“And
has an ego to match. Not many people want to touch her since she
created her own Twitter account. Forget her, anyway, you should be
mixing with people who’ve
got real talent. Someone like Rex Bentley over there. Now that’s a genius.” I raise a
glass in his direction, and Rex obligingly returns the gesture.
“Guy’s
a legend. Made some of the greatest records you’ll
ever hear and he still looks better than—”
I
stop when I notice Haley’s
face. The color drains from it like a reverse painting. Even her lips
turn a chilling shade of white.
“Let’s
go.”
“What?”
“Please,
Brando. Let’s
leave.”
“But
everyone here wants to speak to you! You’ve
already made more connections than most musicians make in their
careers, and you’ve
barely spoken to half the record chiefs here. Besides, you haven’t
even finished your dri—”
“I
have to go. You can come with me or stay. Don’t
make me ask you again. Please.”
“Haley,”
I say, bending down to get a
better look at her ghostly face, eyes limpid and dilated, as if she’s
been drugged. “What’s
the matter? Are you sick? Do you want to—”
She
doesn’t even let me
finish the sentence before dashing away into the crowd, shoving
through confused strangers like she’s
being chased. I watch her for a second, trying to think of a logical
reason for the change in her, before giving up, slamming my drink
down on a table nearby, and following her toward the back exit.
Chapter 12
Haley
Brando
brings a thick blanket out from his loft onto the wide balcony of his
apartment and wraps it around my shoulders.
“Thanks,”
I say, my voice trembling, only
slightly caused by the cold. It’s
the first word I’ve
said since Brando caught me outside, embraced me tightly, and ushered
me into the back of a cab to his apartment.
“You
sure you don’t want
to go back inside? I can make you something hot to drink. Get you
something to eat, maybe?”
“No,”
I say, eyes unfocused as I watch
the red and white lights of LA cars snake through the traffic-jammed
streets. “I need the
fresh air.”
Brando
smooths a part of the blanket over my shoulder, making it a little
more snug. A gesture I can’t
resist smiling at him for. He leans up against the balcony railing
beside me, his bicep against my arm.
“So,”
he says, setting the tempo to a
slow one with
second. I can give you fifth. Maybe.”
Ben
laughs, but there’s
a note of disappointment in it.
“Well
if I can’t have
dibs,” he says,
raising his glass, “I
can sure offer the best deal.”
“Now
that’s more like
it,” I say.
Ben
laughs again before leaning in to whisper something in my ear.
“You
really lucked out here, Brando. I don’t
know how, but you really did.”
Ben
leaves and I turn my attention to Haley.
“Another
drink?”
“No,”
she says, the smile that’s
been plastered onto her face since she came off the stage to
rapturous applause still there, “I
think I’m drinking
too much.”
“If
ever there was a night to drink too much, it’s
this one. Most of these schmucks usually leave halfway through.
They’re only here to
get an audience with the future star.”
“You
were the only audience I needed,” Haley
says, squeezing my bicep before turning away to gaze at the crowd,
which has now morphed into a rush of celebrity musicians. “I
can’t believe how
many famous people are here. I thought it was only record execs.”
“Musicians
tend to like talking business over a loud song and some alcohol.
Executives, on the other hand, tend to start living like musicians
when they spend so much time around them.”
“Is
that…Annabelle
Church?” Haley says,
gawking at the girl in a see-through dress that seems to glide
through the entrance.
“Yeah.
Probably here in the hope that dress will get her some funds for her
next record.”
Haley
turns to me suddenly, eyes filled with surprise.
“But…she’s huge. ”
“And
has an ego to match. Not many people want to touch her since she
created her own Twitter account. Forget her, anyway, you should be
mixing with people who’ve
got real talent. Someone like Rex Bentley over there. Now that’s a genius.” I raise a
glass in his direction, and Rex obligingly returns the gesture.
“Guy’s
a legend. Made some of the greatest records you’ll
ever hear and he still looks better than—”
I
stop when I notice Haley’s
face. The color drains from it like a reverse painting. Even her lips
turn a chilling shade of white.
“Let’s
go.”
“What?”
“Please,
Brando. Let’s
leave.”
“But
everyone here wants to speak to you! You’ve
already made more connections than most musicians make in their
careers, and you’ve
barely spoken to half the record chiefs here. Besides, you haven’t
even finished your dri—”
“I
have to go. You can come with me or stay. Don’t
make me ask you again. Please.”
“Haley,”
I say, bending down to get a
better look at her ghostly face, eyes limpid and dilated, as if she’s
been drugged. “What’s
the matter? Are you sick? Do you want to—”
She
doesn’t even let me
finish the sentence before dashing away into the crowd, shoving
through confused strangers like she’s
being chased. I watch her for a second, trying to think of a logical
reason for the change in her, before giving up, slamming my drink
down on a table nearby, and following her toward the back exit.
Chapter 12
Haley
Brando
brings a thick blanket out from his loft onto the wide balcony of his
apartment and wraps it around my shoulders.
“Thanks,”
I say, my voice trembling, only
slightly caused by the cold. It’s
the first word I’ve
said since Brando caught me outside, embraced me tightly, and ushered
me into the back of a cab to his apartment.
“You
sure you don’t want
to go back inside? I can make you something hot to drink. Get you
something to eat, maybe?”
“No,”
I say, eyes unfocused as I watch
the red and white lights of LA cars snake through the traffic-jammed
streets. “I need the
fresh air.”
Brando
smooths a part of the blanket over my shoulder, making it a little
more snug. A gesture I can’t
resist smiling at him for. He leans up against the balcony railing
beside me, his bicep against my arm.
“So,”
he says, setting the tempo to a
slow one with
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