venue, I’m in the parking lot, kicking gravel, and kicking around a whole lot more in my head. I filled my security detail in on the situation with my brother, and since then I haven’t seen him or Gina.
But that isn’t all I’m thinking about.
I’m in NYC, and if I’m ever gonna get Evangeline out of my head, I need to call her and figure out what the fuck happened.
“Cassius?” Her voice is a summer breeze, cool and slow, filled with apprehension.
“Yeah, it’s me, Evangeline.” I blink back what I think are tears. What the fuck?
“Is everything okay?” she asks, and that question alone tells me a whole fucking lot.
She doesn’t hate me.
“Can I see you, while I’m in town? I’m here in New York, just for the night. You can come to the show. Evangeline, I know you told me to go, but I can’t get you out of my head.”
“Cash, um, I’m sorry, but—”
My head drops, my eyes meet the sky. It’s so fucking big, and I feel so fucking small.
I knew a guy like me, a fucking ex-con, had no chance with a girl like her. The fucking heiress to KMG. Who was I kidding?
Only myself.
“It’s cool,” I say. “I never should have called.”
“Cash—” she says, but I don’t wait for an explanation.
Keeping my fucking cool has never been my strength, and falling for a girl I know I can’t have kills me.
I throw my phone; it smashes against the pavement.
I walk to the only thing I have left.
The only thing I ever really had.
The stage.
Chapter Twenty-One
Evangeline
M y eyes are closed ; my heart is open. My fingers run over keys furiously, rhythmically.
I should be pissed, broken, disappointed.
I’m none of those things. And why would I be? Cassius called days ago and then hung up before I could get a word in edgewise. I deserve more than that.
I deserve a man who’s willing to listen.
“Evangeline?” A voice breaks my labored concentration, a voice I don’t recognize.
Turning toward my door, I see Holden— the Hollywood Holden—leaning against the doorframe with all the swagger and sex appeal he’s known for.
“Holden?” I stand, greeting him. “Did you just get in from Switzerland?”
“Just got in. Terrible jet-lag though.”
“Did the shoot go well? Jude said you were filming.”
Holden smiles. “You know everything about me?” He walks toward me, not asking to come in.
“Not everything,” I say, closing my piano and smoothing the skirt of my dress. “But I’m grateful you trusted Jude enough to let me crash here. I was in a real bind.”
“No old friends in the neighborhood you could stay with?” Holden asks.
“No. I’m kind of a loner, to be honest. The opposite of you, I’m sure.”
“Eh,” Holden runs his hand through his hair. “I had one close friend, Bexley, but we don’t talk anymore. My whole life is what I’ve built in LA since I graduated high school.”
“I didn’t just graduate high school, but I am starting from scratch.”
“Well, you can make plenty of friends in this city if you can play like that.” He gives me a charming grin, all gleaming white teeth and perfectly proportioned cheekbones and nose. He’s easily the most traditionally handsome man I’ve ever been face-to-face with.
I laugh. “Uh, I don’t think playing the piano gets many people friends.”
Holden shrugs. “Maybe you’re hoping to make friends with the wrong crowd. Most people who are really into music, who live here, would be all over you—trying to get you to play for their albums, their shows. People are always looking for other people to play with.”
I cross my arms, appraising this man. “You know a lot about music, for being an actor.”
“I used to do musical theater. But keep that on the down low.”
“Starring in a high school performance of Oklahoma! doesn’t really go with your image?” I ask, smirking.
“It’s all about the image, baby,” he says, raising his eyebrows. I can’t tell if he’s joking, or flirting, or just
But that isn’t all I’m thinking about.
I’m in NYC, and if I’m ever gonna get Evangeline out of my head, I need to call her and figure out what the fuck happened.
“Cassius?” Her voice is a summer breeze, cool and slow, filled with apprehension.
“Yeah, it’s me, Evangeline.” I blink back what I think are tears. What the fuck?
“Is everything okay?” she asks, and that question alone tells me a whole fucking lot.
She doesn’t hate me.
“Can I see you, while I’m in town? I’m here in New York, just for the night. You can come to the show. Evangeline, I know you told me to go, but I can’t get you out of my head.”
“Cash, um, I’m sorry, but—”
My head drops, my eyes meet the sky. It’s so fucking big, and I feel so fucking small.
I knew a guy like me, a fucking ex-con, had no chance with a girl like her. The fucking heiress to KMG. Who was I kidding?
Only myself.
“It’s cool,” I say. “I never should have called.”
“Cash—” she says, but I don’t wait for an explanation.
Keeping my fucking cool has never been my strength, and falling for a girl I know I can’t have kills me.
I throw my phone; it smashes against the pavement.
I walk to the only thing I have left.
The only thing I ever really had.
The stage.
Chapter Twenty-One
Evangeline
M y eyes are closed ; my heart is open. My fingers run over keys furiously, rhythmically.
I should be pissed, broken, disappointed.
I’m none of those things. And why would I be? Cassius called days ago and then hung up before I could get a word in edgewise. I deserve more than that.
I deserve a man who’s willing to listen.
“Evangeline?” A voice breaks my labored concentration, a voice I don’t recognize.
Turning toward my door, I see Holden— the Hollywood Holden—leaning against the doorframe with all the swagger and sex appeal he’s known for.
“Holden?” I stand, greeting him. “Did you just get in from Switzerland?”
“Just got in. Terrible jet-lag though.”
“Did the shoot go well? Jude said you were filming.”
Holden smiles. “You know everything about me?” He walks toward me, not asking to come in.
“Not everything,” I say, closing my piano and smoothing the skirt of my dress. “But I’m grateful you trusted Jude enough to let me crash here. I was in a real bind.”
“No old friends in the neighborhood you could stay with?” Holden asks.
“No. I’m kind of a loner, to be honest. The opposite of you, I’m sure.”
“Eh,” Holden runs his hand through his hair. “I had one close friend, Bexley, but we don’t talk anymore. My whole life is what I’ve built in LA since I graduated high school.”
“I didn’t just graduate high school, but I am starting from scratch.”
“Well, you can make plenty of friends in this city if you can play like that.” He gives me a charming grin, all gleaming white teeth and perfectly proportioned cheekbones and nose. He’s easily the most traditionally handsome man I’ve ever been face-to-face with.
I laugh. “Uh, I don’t think playing the piano gets many people friends.”
Holden shrugs. “Maybe you’re hoping to make friends with the wrong crowd. Most people who are really into music, who live here, would be all over you—trying to get you to play for their albums, their shows. People are always looking for other people to play with.”
I cross my arms, appraising this man. “You know a lot about music, for being an actor.”
“I used to do musical theater. But keep that on the down low.”
“Starring in a high school performance of Oklahoma! doesn’t really go with your image?” I ask, smirking.
“It’s all about the image, baby,” he says, raising his eyebrows. I can’t tell if he’s joking, or flirting, or just
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