In my room, I strip off my clothes and take a long, hot shower, washing the horrible events of the day out of my hair.
How stupid I was to go to a man’s house without telling anyone where I was going?What was I thinking?
When I’ve dried off, I call Sade and tell her what happened.
“You can’t sign with him,” I say. “He’s an animal. He’s not interested in your voice. Promise me you won’t.”
“I won’t. I won’t,” she says, sounding strangely reserved.
“Sade? Did Carlos already try the same thing with you?”
She’s silent.
“Did he?”
“Yes,” she says. “That’s why he kept saying he needed to hear me audition again and again. But he really meant he needed to sleep with me again. And it wasn’t just normal…” Her voice breaks off.
I give her a moment to recover.
“Bix,” she sobs, “he did things to me I would never allow. He was an animal. I’m ashamed. I’m ashamed to go to my village and show my face in front of my mother.”
“Your mother doesn’t need to know,” I say as gently as I can. “You did what you had to do. Don’t blame yourself. Just don’t go back to him. Swear that to me.”
“But who will sign me?” she laments.
“Don’t worry. We’ll find a great label for you and for me. Nothing is worth what Carlos asks.”
“Okay,” she says. “I trust you. I trust you.”
CHAPTER 48
BIX
Walking through our suite, I try to resist the temptation to open the door to Slayer’s room.
But I’m too weak.
I enter his room and inhale the incense that still permeates it.
Then I force myself to walk back out and close it up again.
Forget him, I tell myself.
For a moment, I wonder if I should write a tell-all article about my weekend with a rock star. It would serve him right.
But in Sterling’s office that day, I probably signed some sort of waiver or NDA saying I’d never talk about my relationship with Slayer. Sterling will go to any length to protect himself and his star.
Suitcase in hand, I take the elevator down to Maurice at the concierge desk.
“Well, this is it...” I tell him.
“I hope you’ll visit us again,” says Maurice.
"I don't think it's in the cards," I tell him. "Could you please call me a taxi to the airport?”
“Of course, madam. But the hotel car is here, ready to take you.” He indicates a white Rolls-Royce just outside the lobby.
“A Rolls-Royce?”
