She blinked before quickly getting in the car.
I watched, helplessly, as she maneuvered around my car to pull out of the driveway. My knees buckled and I stumbled forward a few steps.
I heard one of the moving guys mumble something about being sorry. A few seconds after Lena, they pulled off, too, rocks and pebbles spitting in the air as their tires carried it away.
I remained planted in place, unsure of what to do. What do you do when the life you dreamed of walks away?
It took me too long to realize that the buzzing sound in my head was actually my phone in my pocket.
I pulled it out on the hopes that it was Lena calling to say she made a mistake, or better yet, this was some sick joke she was playing.
It was neither.
Instead, it was a text from Micah, telling me that Jodi had gone into labor.
I gave the end of the driveway one final look before stumbling over to my car. “Fuck her,” I mumbled while I started my engine and hit the gas to peel out toward the hospital.
Chapter 31
Lena
“I’m not signing that,” I snarled, flicking away the papers Demetria held in her hands. I was backstage trying to get ready for my first late-night show appearance to debut my new single, “Tornado”.
Demetria sighed but didn’t say anything.
I turned back to the mirror, trying to complete my makeup.
“He asked that I bring it up to you,” she said, sounding despondent.
“I’m sure he did. Shit,” I cursed after I smeared the eyeliner.
It’d been a month since I returned to LA. I finished the album, having worked with a couple of musical artists whom I respected greatly. That was the only good thing about the past month.
I’d never felt so hollow in my life. Every morning I awakened from another restless night of dreaming about my last encounter with Gabe. The hurt in his eye cut deeper than any of the words he hurled at me.
I wanted to run to him, to tell him the truth, but fear stopped me. It was my fault that Nate had become so callous and vindictive toward Gabe. Nate had the power to ruin not only Gabe’s career as a fighter but as a manager.
My eyes watered, and my vision blurred, forcing me to forego the eyeliner I tried to apply.
“I mean, the contract doesn’t seem all that bad,” Demetria said after a while.
I turned to her with a wrinkled forehead. “Then you sign your name to it.”
She frowned.
“I’m sorry.” I pushed out a deep breath. “You didn’t deserve that.” Demetria had flown from New York a month ago and worked with me to organize all of the interviews and other tasks that came along with rolling out a new album.
Nate was pouring it on heavy, unmindful of what I wanted to do to release my album. I was surprised he hadn’t fought me harder when I insisted that I didn’t want to work with many other producers. I called two producers I worked with in the past to arrange three songs on the album. Aside from that, the other seven tracks were entirely written and produced by me.
It would be a proud moment for me if my heart didn’t ache so much.
“No, I didn’t,” Demetria said, her voice was a little biting.
“Things will calm down eventually.” I turned to the mirror and glanced down at the green pantsuit I wore for the performance.
“I mean, truthfully, you should be grateful that he’s doing all of this for you.”
“What?” I asked Demetria. She’d often been a defender of Nate in the past, but she hadn’t been this adamant about the business side of things before. But then again, she didn’t know the whole story. That he was blackmailing me into working with him and signing a new contract.
