“Fucking Peter,” I seethe. “As if I needed more reason to hate his guts.”
Parker throws her arms wide. “Puh-leaselet me drive over to his shitty apartment and throw fermented apples at him.”
“I’m in favor of that oddly specific retaliation.” Margot wrings her hands before whispering, “I knew his aura stunk.”
“I’m onboard with all your suggestions, believe me.” Harriet rubs her belly absentmindedly. “I’d rather attack him where it hurts the most, though.”
“Oooh, now we’re talking.” Parker rubs her palms together menacingly. “Spill.”
Harriet purses her lips before reaching for me. I help her sit up and wait to hear what could be worse than a revenge-seeking Parker knocking on your door.
“A wise redhead wouldn’t leave me alone until I copyrighted all of my songs, especially those I sent to publishers and producers…” From the knowing smile on her lips, her secret weapon is a lot more powerful than all our suggestions. “Including the one I shared with my then-boyfriend, who also happens to work at Tate’s record label.”
Margot gasps, Parker hoots, and I want to kiss her something stupid. My smart, beautiful, talented girl.
“You own the rights?”
She turns to me, rightfully looking proud of herself. “You bet your ass, I do, and I’m not going down without a fight.”
We all throw ourselves into researching copyright infringement laws and the steps needed to take action. It’s a lot and far from straightforward. When it nears midnight, we’re all exhausted, Harriet especially. Margot left an hour ago, and Johanna went to bed with the kids, leaving only Parker behind, who stifles a yawn.
“Harry, I know why we want to keep Talia out of this, but we need her help.”
Harriet harrumphs from her spot beside me, head lolling to the side with the weight of her exhaustion. “She’s a medical malpractice lawyer.”
“She’ll have connections. Connections we need.” Parker stretches her arms up to the ceiling. “We don’t have to tell herthe artist is Tate, but if she finds out we did this behind her back, it’ll devastate her.”
Feeling very much out of the loop again, I clear my throat. “Alright, now that the little ears aren’t around, what’s the deal between Talia and Tate?”
They share a look identical to the one Harriet and Margot exchanged earlier.
“This is not common knowledge. It still baffles me the press has no clue who Talia is, so you have to swear not to speak a word of this to anyone. Tals included.” Harriet grimaces. “It’s a sore topic for her.”
“Because?”
“Because Talia and Tate are married.”
FIFTY
HARRIET
Freshly cutgrass and the sweet perfume of wildflowers swaying in the early afternoon breeze fill the mid-April air. There’s something satisfying about the first trip out of the house without a jacket, like a final farewell to the colder weather as we inch toward summer.
I soak up the vitamin D as I sit on the bench, eyes closed and legs stretched out in front of me. It’s nice; though, I’m secretly hoping we’re not hit with a heatwave while I’m still pregnant. Full-term plus one-hundred degrees sounds gross. At almost thirty weeks, it’s crazy to think my pregnancy is coming to an end. It’s been both too long and too short.
When I open my eyes, I spot Talia cresting the hill of Foxtail Park where we’re meeting.
Call me a coward, but there’s less risk of her storming off when I catch her up to speed about the stolen song if we’re in public. She wouldn’t be mad at me. Peter, obviously, but the last thing I want is for her to contact Tate, guns blazing, and try to resolve this herself. She’s a brilliant lawyer, steady and calm in every situation. This is different and very delicate.
“Look at you, topping up your freckles.” She hands me a takeout cup filled with my favorite smoothie from Peaches before sitting down. “This is a nice change of scenery.”
“Decided to mix it up before the sun disappears again.” It’s not a total lie why I chose this meetup location. We’ve had two huge rainstorms this month, with severe flooding in the valley.
“Good call.” She sips on her lime-green smoothie. “Did Jo make it home okay?”
“Yeah. I was sad to say goodbye, but she’ll be back after the baby’s born.”
We sit in comfortable silence, smiling at familiar faces from town on a midafternoon stroll and watching an eagle soaring through the skies.
