“Have you seen—“ Tommy nodded at Tyler. “Never mind.” He went on, “The afterparty’s going to be a fucking rager. It’s at the Chateau and”—he pointed at Tyler—”you’re coming.”
Like hell I am.
Chateau Marmont was a playground for young Hollywood. With the Playboy Mansion closed it was the next best option for middle-aged creeps and borderline pedophiles.
She clenched her jaw. “We have plans with the band.”
“Next time,” Tommy said, which she considered a threat. “What about you, Cary?”
“No thanks, but I want to headline Coachella.”
“I’m on it,” Tommy said, flashing a phony grin.
Later that evening Tyler took the band, Allie, Kim, and Cary to her favorite Los Angeles restaurant, Subito’s, to celebrate. She had enough room on her credit card if Penfolds Grange wasn’t on the menu.
Allie shared that she was signing Yestown, and the guys were ecstatic. Every local band in the country was dying to work with her, and it gave Tyler hope for the next generation of artists. One day, women in the music industry would be valued—and paid—as equals. But it wouldn’t be today—or tomorrow,unfortunately.
After dinner Tyler and Cary collected her dog from the hotel and headed west toward Malibu along the Pacific Coast Highway—PCH to the locals. With the windows rolled down, a warm ocean breeze swept through the vehicle and waves crashed along the perimeter. There were palm trees, houses, and little shops along the road, and a lot of cars honking.
It was LA, after all.
Cary’s beach house sat on some of the most expensive real estate in California. He’d bought the five-thousand-square-foot, two-story concrete-and-glass structure after the market crashed years earlier. The previous owners had left it in such disrepair that he’d had to strip it down completely. The upside was it let him rebuild from the ground up, shaping every detail.
“What a dump,” Tyler laughed, kicking off her shoes. “You should think about buying something bigger.” She inhaled deeply, the salty air coating her tongue.
“I’ll start saving,” Cary said, turning on the lights. “What do you think? Dessert now or later?”
“Depends on what you mean by dessert?”
“Funny.” He waved at her to follow him. “Come, I’ll show you around.”
Cary led her through the house while Rory trailed behind. The décor mirrored his penthouse—contemporary, sparse, and polished, with hardwood floors throughout.
“Pictures!” She clapped at the framed photos on the sideboard. “Are your parents coming tomorrow?”
“My folks?” He shook his head. “No, they’re not.”
“Let me guess.” She rested her hands on her hips. “You didn’tinvite them?”
“Honestly? It didn’t even cross my mind.”
She sighed and shook her head. “Fine. I’m officially putting myself in charge of family invites from now on.”
“Okay,” he said easily, no protest in sight.
“Really? You’re not just humoring me?”
“Do I still need to prove I’m not all talk?”
She laughed. “Always.”
CHAPTER 22
CARY
Cary hated that they’d fought earlier in the day. He’d had enough fights with Emma to earn him a championship belt, not that he was proud of it. He’d spent his entire adult life thinking about himself and now it was time to prioritize someone else. He was always thinking about Tyler, but he needed to do a better job of expressing himself.
What a sweetheart she was to get excited about the pictures of his family. He didn’t have the heart to tell her they were new. He should have invited his folks to his exhibit. At least he’d have two people in attendance—three, including his girlfriend.
