“Hilarious, but no thanks,” Theo says, his words directed at Andy. “She’s not pulling a Britney.”
“Do it,” booms Gavin, suddenly a lot less bitter about his own hair now that he might have company.
“Trust me, don’t egg her on,” Roger boasts. “You can’t out-punk-rock a rock star. And Hannah here—” He puts a proud hand on my shoulder. “Is the real deal.”
Now everyone in the restaurant—the whole cast and crew and even the waitstaff—is watching me.
A gentle hand cups my knee. “Hey,” Ginny says softly, crouching. “Ignore them. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”
I try to focus on her. My sister, who used to be my anchor when the world was overwhelming.
“Don’t think of it as pulling a Britney,” Andy says, in a snarky tone that says he hasn’t forgiven me or Roger for brushing him off. “Think of it asreclaiminghead-shaving for women. Who says it has to be a symbol of losing control?”
“All right, that’s enough.” Theo’s voice has grown a sharp edge. “Leave her alone.” I’m still focused on Ginny’s face, trying to get everyone else to fade. “I miss you,” I whisper.
She squeezes my knee. “You should get out of here.”
Andy chuckles, still on a bent knee before me, holding out the buzzer. “I’m right here, honey.” “Roger, I’m taking Hannah back to the hotel,” Theo says, rising from his seat.
“Chill.” Roger lifts a hand. “Everyone is having fun.”
Andy pushes the buzzer into my palm and presses it on so it vibrates. “Her choice,” he swears, backing away. “It’s in the ‘rock star’s’ hands now.”
I’m intoxicated enough that the last few minutes have unfolded like a play, with me as an audience member, the barbs and jokes and laughter swirling around me. But the buzzing razor in my hand jerks me back to reality. I’m the star, not the observer. Everyone is waiting to see what I’ll do next.
“Guys, I think she’s gonna do it,” Gavin yells, and there are whoops around the restaurant.
“Don’t,” whispers Ginny. “You’re better than this.”
“What do you know?” I lash out. “You’re not even here.”
The look on Ginny’s face is pure betrayal, a raw wound. And I’m still surrounded by hungry eyes, a hundred people in a crowded restaurant who all want one thing from me.
“Here,” I say loudly. “How’s this?”
I take the buzzer to my temple and shear off a long, clean line.
Chapter 33
Theo
Sunday, July 14, 2024
I’m suspicious the moment I hear the knock on my apartment door. The list of people who both know my home address in New York City and are likely to be awake before ten a.m. on a Sunday morning is a disquietingly small one. I open the door to find Kenny standing in a crisp white button-down and navy jacket, holding a bouquet of orange daisies with the muddy roots still attached.
I grip the door. “Shit. What kind of trouble are you in?”
“What do you mean?”
I gesture at the daisies. “You’re dressed like you’re going to Sunday school and you brought me flowers. You must’ve done something awful.”
“You should really talk to someone about your paranoia problem, Suit.”
“Youaremy paranoia problem,” I mutter. “Also, how are you alive? I left you eight hours ago on your way to an after-after-party.”
“Oh yeah, that was wild.” Kenny yawns. “It was in an abandoned warehouse for some reason. Pretty sure we allneed tetanus shots, but we can discuss that later. I’ve been instructed to corral you.”
I look down at my day-off uniform: ratty basketball shorts and a T-shirt. “Corral me where?” But Kenny’s already pushing me out the door, and I only have time to grab my keys before it shuts and locks behind us.
