1
#dontletthepublicknow
HARLOW SAINT JAMES
The bass pumped,lights flashed, alcohol splashed, and I was feeling all right. Smothered and suffocated in a way a good mother I assumed was suffocating, but all right. I was used to it.
This was what happened when a city raised you—spanked you hard and held you close. Los Angeles was like one big agent young socialites all had a time or two, who dressed their bankroll in Versace and wanted to screw at the same time. Lucky for me, I was able to avoid the tented Amiri jeans. But for others, it was the only way to climb the social ladder. Be a loose string in the network.Be a somebody who knows a somebody who knows a somebody.
It was why they were here in Los Angeles, after all.
That, and the weather was nice.
Sidney was feeling good, too. A willowy skyscraper swaying beside me at the bar, her bony hip stabbing my side every few seconds.
A Dior and Guerlain haze floated around us.
Cold drinks clasped in sweaty hands waved in the air.
All star-gazing eyes locked on the stage, where social media sensation and break-through band, House of Sparrows, gripped everyone’s attention.
I had my sights set on the lead singer, whatever his name was.
Names weren’t important.
House of Sparrows were five guys with the infamous rock and roll sex appeal that could last for longer than a night. Sadly, only one night for a commitment-phobe like me. Anything more than that would give the guy a bad reputation and me a laundry list of ways to try and get rid of him. I wanted them obsessed with me but at arm’s length. Why was that so hard to find?
The Viper Room was packed on this night. The vibe in the intimate space was a mix between burlesque and Harlem–burlesquem. Theburlesquembar reminded me of Harvelle’s in Santa Monica. And I knewburlesquemwasn’t a real word, but no one could look down at me with their arrogant smirks because of the thoughts in my head, so I could scream it inside my skull as much as I wanted.Burlesquem! The club wasburlesquem, with leather seating, glossy black floors, and sexy blood-red details.
It brought me back to my sixteenth birthday at Harvelle’s when Dad told me that Mom had left him. She’d really leftus, moved back to Orlando, but he took the blame as always. Dad had said I did nothing wrong, but I didn’t need a sober brain to know it was because I’d divorced acting. I also didn’t need an I.D. to drown myself in alcohol at the time—a time when club owners had paid me to visit their clubs and drink their top-shelf liquor. That night was the first time getting tripping-over-my-feet-throwing-up drunk, and I found a soothing lullaby in its fog. I’d been addicted to that state of mind, or lack thereof, ever since.
It was a night that replayed in my mind, even at this moment, standing here with Sidney beside me, not really listening to this rock band playing about being misunderstood, but eye-fucking the lead singer and imagining my matte red lipstick smearing his lips. The fantasy played out in my head. It was safe there, and I knew I’d have to be completely wasted to go through it.
The lead singer’s arrogance bled onto the small stage, whistles from drunken ladies every time he flashed a wicked smile. I tried to rise to the excitement, but something else was calling my attention.
To the left, the lead guitarist slashed his guitar with the opening ofhis solo, lost in his own world, not needing the audience to inspire his riff.
It was Lincoln Hendrix. I’d never met him before, but everyone knew him because his brother was Ty Hendrix, award-winning artist and the sole reason House of Sparrows earned a name, or so some would say.
Strings from Linc’s electric guitar ripped through the Marshall speakers. Sweat leaked from his hairline, and dark brown hair stuck to the side of his flushed face. To him, it seemed he was the only one in the room. The rest of us didn’t exist. His skilled fingers plucked the strings in one hand, his other stroking the neck of the guitar under closed eyes. Then his eyes squeezed shut with an incredible background hum that built into a scream of vocals. It brought my hand to my racing chest as if I already had a line of blow.
The crowd morphed into a shark-eating frenzy, and“Holy hell”tumbled out of my lips in a whisper. The last time I’d felt like that was the first time I’d worn Valentino.
When Linc opened his eyes again, his entire posture changed. He became a statue. A less passionate copy of himself. My fascination turned into disappointment when the realization must have hit him, and he turned his back to the crowd. I wanted to know why he did it.
“Harlow.” Sidney’s blonde strands swept my cheek. She pressed her mouth to my ear, her drink spilling over the rim. The stickiness trickled down my arm. “Look who decided to show up.” She turned her head and nudged her eyes. My gaze followed.
Across the room, Audrey October squeezed into a booth. A fire lit beneath my skin, and I downed the rest of my drink.
I didn’t expect to see her here. It wasn’t her scene.
And it wasn’t my scene, either.
On any other given night, Sidney would have had to drag me across the sidewalk by my hair to get me to show up at the haunted, stuffy bar, so I thought for sure shaking things up and agreeing to attend the private show would lessen the chance of colliding with my past.
Once upon a time, Audrey and I were inseparable, just two kids who found stardom at the early age of eleven through a sitcom calledIt’s Complicated. Together we’d spent our first five years bonding on sets, and soon after, we were spending our summers on white beaches, flipping through gossip columns in star magazines, and had been living—what kids would now say—our best lives. When we weren’t having sleepovers consisting of fawning over old Hollywood flicks, we were taking dance, voice, and acting classes every day together.
Being a mixed and pretty eleven-year-old was the only reason the casting team had chosen me for co-star of the show. To them, it was the perfect opportunity to showcase the diversity the network had lacked.A pretty and sarcastic Creole who would prove the network wasn’t prejudiced, my first agent had said.
