LENA
Six Months Later
He smoothshis patchy mustache over his lip. “It says here your last name’s Lukowski.”
I snatch back my I.D., shielding my eyes from the flashing blue lights atop the patrol car.
“Lux is my stage name.”
When is Antonia going to get here? I knew I should never have ditched my team, but three—or five?—tall gin and sodas later, here I am. Alone in the dark with—I check the name on the front of his uniform—Officer Everett.
He clears his throat, a gust of sour coffee breath knocking me back a step. “And where did you say you were coming from?”
“I was just out for a walk.”
“You had nothing to do with the commotion at Allister King's Music Hall?” His eyes dip to the ground before he flattens his mustache again, a thick chuckle exploding from his lips. “They must’ve meantallboots when they said they’re made for walkin’.”
My stomach sinks into the stupid Swarovski crystal-encrusted thigh-high boots I should have never agreed to wear. If they didn’t look so good on camera, maybe I would have told someone they cut off circulation to my toes. I push back a fresh blonde chunk of my hair, still annoyed by the recent change. The pale shade is a jarring contrast to the chocolate of the rest, and I kind of hate it. Yet another thing in my life that’s completely out of my hands.
“I’m in the city to record my new album and just needed some fresh air.” I smile, wondering what Antonia might coach me to say. Should I have a lawyer present? Was Iincriminatingmyself?
“Recording?” His eyes glint. “Anything you can share?”
“Just that this is going to be the mostepicalbum yet.” I paste on my ever popular I-don’t-want-to-be-here-but-thanks-for-having-me smile, the one I’ve had to utilize more and more recently.
He nods enthusiastically and jots something in a notepad before flipping to a new page. “You know, my daughter loves you.”
I perk up at the sight of a car turning off the brightly lit main drag and down our desolate side street.
“Aw, cute,” I manage to say as the vehicle closes in, and much to my dismay, passes us. Still not Antonia.
“What’s that one song you have? The cheaters one?”
Because I’m still not sure what this man has witnessed, I decide it’s in my best interest to play along. I think through everything I’ve ever written, and for a girl who’s only been cheated on once out of however many relationships she’s ever been in, there’s quite a few involving the implication of unfaithfulness. However, I have a feeling he’s referencing my newest single. The one I wrote to help me process the passing of my most recent relationship. One my agent and record labelcoerced me to release to “stay relevant.” My tears had barely dried by the time it was hitting the charts.
“You Did This? Killing Yesterday? What You Asked For?” I jog my memory for more titles, though my set list is never far from mind. Reluctantly, I drop the name of my newest one. “Cheater Eater?”
“Cheater Eater! That’s the one. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to endure it.” He nods his head, humming the melody before diving into the lyrics. “I’m a cheater eater. You couldn’t leave her, tried my best, but couldn’t beat her. Told me you didn’t need?—”
“Loved writing that one,” I fib.
“I heard that song’s about that Callum boy. The singer. Is that true?”
Callum Porter. The guy who ripped my heart out and crushed it into impossibly tiny pieces under his Italian leather shoe. The one I was certain was going to take me back tonight but didn’t. My smile falters, and I hope Officer Everett doesn’t notice. Why is everyone always so invested in my love life?
“Isn’t he in town for a show tonight?”
I shrug.
He eyes me suspiciously. “I thought I’d seen his name on the board at King’s.”
“You know, it’s just a song, but you can tell your daughter—what’s her name?”
“Riley.”
“Beautiful name,” I fawn, hoping to win him over a bit. “You can tell Riley that sometimes the best way to get over something is to write through it.”
“Something orsomeone?”
