Oddly, her eagerness to blame Maddie makes me curious if there’s a a logical explanation.
“That tabloid photo could be trick photography," I say. "They're always after the kind of headlines that make people pay to read the story."
"Could be, but I bet it it isn't. Did you read the article? Her ex is in Las Vegas for a conference."
"Then maybe they just met by chance."
Why am I still defending Maddie?I feel hurt. Punched in the gut hurt. Exploited.
"Right,” says Stella. “And he immediately cupped her ass? You can't blame her, Rio. You told me this is just a temporary thing between you guys. Maybe she's just keeping her options open."
Her words land like a physical blow.
"Incase I crash and burn? Is that what you're saying, Stella?"
“No, of course not. But your meltdown in New Orleans was just days ago. She might think that it could happen again. "
That's exactly what Maddie must think. That I'm a risk. That this is temporary. That I'm temporary.
With that tabloid photo burning a hole through my brain, I make a choice. If Maddie thinks I'm a disaster, maybe I should show her what a real disaster looks like.
I jump down from the stage. Then I glance at Maddie to make sure she’ll be watching the show.
"That dressing room you assigned me is great," I tell Stella. "But there’s a problem with the heater. Can you come see?”
“Sure. Let me call the engineer …”
Stella reaches for her phone, but I block the action with my hand.
“Just you. I think you may be able to fix it on your own.”
“Oh. I see,” she says, understanding coming into hereyes. “Yes. Of course.”
As we walk towards the dressing room, Maddie rushes up to us.
Good going. Right on cue.
"Maddie," I say, my voice cold. I don't back up an inch from Stella. "Stella, please meet Maddie. Maddie, Stella works for the hotel. She’s our personal concierge. Her job is to make sure we get what we need.”
They do that fake smile women do. Curving their lips upward over clenched teeth.
Then I slide my arm around Stella's waist. I see Maddie's gaze snap to my hand.
"She’s offered to fix this thing in my dressing room," I say, letting the implication hang heavy in the air.
Maddie’s face goes pale.
"Rio, wait—" she says, reaching out to grab the sleeve of my jacket. "Can we talk? What is this?"
I look at her hand on my sleeve. Then I look at her face.
For a second, I want to ask her what that tabloid snapshot was all about.
"Let's go," I say to Stella.
I let Stella lead me away, her fingers laced through mine like we've done this a hundred times.
Maddie stands there, frozen in the middle of the studio.
