Her lips curved, small and tired.
I know.
She didn’t send it.Instead, she put the phone facedown and stood, pacing to the window.The rain had stopped, but clouds still rolled over the water.The calm before another wave.
Her laptop chimed.A new alert from the analytics feed.She opened it, eyes scanning the graph.Engagement had spiked again, but this time it wasn’t for the reason she wanted.Someone had uploaded a screenshot of her email to the label, the one outlining her suspicions about Reed & Carr.
Her stomach dropped.The leak was internal.
She clicked through the source account, tracing the image’s metadata.Whoever had leaked it had used a private VPN, but one detail caught her attention: the timestamp matched the moment she’d sent Tony her draft statement.
The betrayal stung.
Her hands trembled slightly as she typed a message to Tony.
Who else had access to my draft?
He replied almost instantly.
Just me, the label rep, and their digital media coordinator.Why?
Because it’s online.
The typing bubbles blinked, then disappeared.Finally, Tony wrote back.
We’ll get ahead of it.Don’t panic.
Carlene laughed under her breath.Too late for that.
She pushed her chair back and stood, walking out onto the deck of her hotel room to breathe.The air smelled like salt and wet flowers.
She leaned on the railing and looked out over the field.“What am I doing?”she whispered.
Her phone rang again.It was Tony.She answered.
“They’re spinning this as carelessness,” he said without greeting.“Reed & Carr are claiming you mishandled sensitive materials.”
Her throat tightened.“Of course they are.They create a fire and blame me for the smoke.”
“You need a public response, something that takes the heat off you and the band.Our big tour is less than a month away.The label plans to release our album the week before that.Our timeframe for dealing with this couldn't be worse.”
“I’m aware of the timing; it was the major reason you brought me on.I'll draft a response tonight.”
“The label’s getting pressure from investors.”
She sighed and sat in the chair across from her bed.After the call ended, she stayed there, gripping the arms until her knuckles whitened.Every instinct told her to fight back.To expose Reed & Carr’s pattern of manipulation.To stand up for herself.
But another part of her, quieter and deeper, whispered that this wasn’t just about her reputation anymore.It was about protecting the band, protecting Jami, and keeping the story focused where it belonged, on the music.
Her phone buzzed again.Another message from Jami.
Meet me at the barn when you can.We should talk about the statement.
She typed back,
Give me an hour.
The pull and tug of all of these things played on her stomach and her brain.If she were honest, they were playing on her heart.She couldn't get involved with Jami.He was a client, and as soon as they started on this tour, he'd be off, living his rockstar life, and she'd be in another town, working with another company, trying to focus on the PR she needed to offer them.She'd also be trying not to think of Jami Hart and how he'd ingrained himself into her soul without even trying.
