His smile froze, as if finally understanding his revolting choices.
“This is her job,” Vivian went on. “She’s built something that clearly resonates with a lot of people. And your instinct is to reduce it to a punchline and market research about your own dick. In what universe is that respectful? Or professional?”
She let the silence land. Nearby, the murmur of the crowd swelled and receded like a tide, but no one looked at them.
“You both know the reality,” Vivian said, looking from one to the other. “A single rumor, a label like this slapped on the wrong way? It can derail a career that hasn’t even had a chance to start.”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt her.” Seraphina swallowed. “It’s out there?—”
“Then you better apologize and hope she forgives you, because I never will.” She shoved the phone back into Seraphina’s hand like it was contagious. “And in the meantime,” she added with all the abrasive edge she’d ever been accused of, “you’re both going to resist the urge to tell this story like it’s a funny little anecdote. If I so much as see a single person do a double take when Bryn walks by, every single producer I know will learn that I am uncomfortable working with hostile?—”
“I only told Richard,” Seraphina promised. “We won’t mention it to anyone else.”
Vivian pinned them both down with her focused glare. “No, you will not.”
Satisfied that she’d made herself understood, she turned away from them and stalked across the rooftop. When she didn’t find Bryn inside the hotel, she pulled out her phone again. Opening the text she hadn’t known how to respond to, Vivian typed, “Where are you?”
She stood by the elevators for ten minutes, waiting for a response. It didn’t come.
Full of impotence and second-hand anxiety, Vivian went down to her room. If she couldn’t help Bryn, then she wanted to be out of the cesspool.
As soon as she was in her suite, she kicked off her shoes by the bedroom door. Relief flooded her body but she didn’t stop to enjoy it. She was too busy downloading Siren over glacially slow Wi-Fi.
Sitting in the armchair in the living room, she typed Kelly Craves into the search bar. She hit play on the most recent release. In seconds, Bryn’s unmistakable voice set Vivian’s heart racing. She stopped the recording and closed her eyes.
Bryn’s reaction had told Vivian that the Siren thing was true, but she wanted to hear it for herself. Confirmation only fueled Vivian’s anger, her rage at Seraphina’s temerity and Richard’s sleaze.
She poked around in the app, filling in her aggravating knowledge gap. Why hadn’t Bryn told her about this? In her constant chattering, Vivian learned all kinds of things about Bryn. For fuck’s sake, she knew that she’d been a forward on her high school soccer team, whatever the hell that meant, and all about Gloria’s fucking shellfish allergy. Why hadn’t she mentioned this?
Vivian’s stomach soured. Had Bryn feared that she would judge her? What had Vivian ever said to make her?—
She stopped herself. It was rarely what Viviansaidthat caused friction, and more often everything she didn’t. Regret squeezed her chest but she focused on her phone.
A little digging told her that Kelly Craves was in fact the female artist with the most followers on the app, but it was a tiny fraction compared to the most popular male voices. Vivian scrolled through the audio files and tried to make sense of the tags: FDom, Brat, F4A, D2L, GFE, Ramblefap. They might as well have been license plates.
Vivian filtered the hundreds of recordings published under Kelly Craves and arranged them by most popular. She picked the one with over a quarter of a million listens. The one that Vivian ostensibly understood the tags for: Aftercare, L-bomb, SFW.
Even though she was in her suite alone, Vivian stood to get her earbuds from the nightstand. She popped them in and sat on the edge of the bed before hitting play.
Bryn’s voice filled her ears, soft and breathless. “You did so well, baby.” When Bryn inhaled deeply, so did Vivian. “Come here, put your head on my shoulder and let me rub your back.” The rustling of sheets and squeak of a mattress. “Yeah, that’s good. Just catch your breath.” She chuckled, but it was low and gentle. “I don’t care if you’re sweaty. I like it.”
Vivian closed her eyes and imagined herself in the scene. Imagined being pulled close. Tucking in at someone’s—Bryn’s—side. Body buzzing.
“I know your heart’s still going a mile a minute. That’s okay. You’re okay,” she promised, and Vivian wanted to believe her. “Take a breath for me, baby. In through your nose—” She chuckled. “Yes, I know you know how to breathe, but you’re panting. Come on, you can be a brat again later.” An audible smile. “Yes, I promise.”
Forgetting the discomfort from her clothes, Vivian rested on her side. She let herself get lost in the wilderness of Bryn’s steady voice. In her effortless control.
“That’s it,” Bryn murmured. “You’re right here with me. Nothing else to do, nothing else to prove.” She modeled slow breathing again and Vivian was powerless to stop herself from following her lead. “I’m so proud of you. Hey, look at me. You gave me everything I asked for and you’re perfect exactly as you are.”
Vivian’s stomach tightened, her skin warmed. Her body sank into Bryn’s comforting words. She floated on the rhythm of her exhales.
“Don’t worry. I have all day, all night, whatever you need and for as long as you need, I’m here.”
Bryn said it so sincerely—with so much care—Vivian’s closed eyes watered. For the first time in years, she yearned to be held. To feel the press of a warm, loving body against hers.
“It’s okay if you’re a little shaky. That’s normal. If you can, curl your toes for me. Flex your fingers. Feel the bed under you. You’re safe. You’re not alone. I’ve got you.”
Despite her brain understanding that Bryn was acting, Vivian found no performance in her delivery. Just steady, undiluted devotion poured into the dark for thousands of strangers. It was no wonder that the audio was so popular. She imagined how many people ended a hard day with Bryn’s voice in their ear.
