“Maybe that’s all part of my evil plan.”
She thought that would make him laugh, but his expression turned earnest, his eyes searching her face, the words feeling more loaded than she’d meant them to. Before they could say anything else, though, her phone buzzed on the bed next to her.
“I think my car’s here,” she said, picking up her bag. “Text me if you need more ideas for things to do.” They’d spent part of dinner the previous evening putting together a list of trails, museums, restaurants, and landmarks to keep him busy while she was working. He nodded and pulled her in for one last kiss, squeezing her hand encouragingly.
Outside, a shiny black car with tinted windows was idling in the driveway. She was startled to open the door to the back seat and discover it was already occupied: Audrey Aoki herself was there, thumbs flying over the screen of her phone, not slowing down even as she looked up at Merritt.
“Merritt!” she said, her smile wide and gleaming, British accent as posh as ever. “So wonderful to see you. You look great. Sohealthy.”
“Uh, thanks, you, too,” said Merritt, sliding in and shutting the door behind her. Audrey did, in fact, look great: the decade that had passed since they’d last seen each other was barely visible. On the other hand, she had definitely just called Merritt fat—but by Los Angeles standards, she was, and she no longer gave a fuck. “You were worried I’d bail, huh?”
Audrey shut off her phone but left it sitting on her lap, where it immediately lit up with another flurry of notifications. “You have, historically, been a bit of a flight risk,” she said, lightly enough to make it sound like it was a cute little quirk of Merritt’s instead of one of the things that had destroyed their working relationship.
“I wouldn’t do that,” said Merritt, trying to conceal her guilt about how close she’d come to doing exactly that. “It’s been ten years. I’ve grown up a little since then.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Audrey, her smile genuine now. “Because I’ve found that time passing doesn’t always equal growing up.”
“Don’t I know it,” Merritt said with a rueful laugh.
She could take a little playful ribbing from Audrey, who, as much as Merritt had built her up to represent everything she hated about the industry, was just a person doing her best, making her living wrangling self-involved and unpredictable people in a soul-crushingly toxic environment. At least she, unlike most people Merritt had met with her level of power, seemed to have a kind heart under her flawlessly tailored blazers, and a genuine desire to do right by her clients.
Audrey glanced down into her phone, tapped out a few brisk replies, then set it down again.
“Feeling good about today?” She continued without giving Merritt a chance to respond. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up that this is going to be filmed. Social media is crucial to build buzz, and fans love getting a peek behind the scenes. We think this has the potential to be a huge viral moment for both of you.”
“Great,” said Merritt dryly. “I’m always looking for my next huge viral moment.”
Audrey ignored her, passing her phone over, where a Docusign form was open to the signature line.
“Would you mind signing this appearance release? Totally standard.”
Merritt thought about protesting, irritated that she was getting ambushed with this now rather than having a chance to look it over with a lawyer or a manager, like she’d just tumbled off the turnip truck and didn’t know any better. Still, the last thing she wanted to do today was rock the boat. She sighed and scribbled a malformed version of her signature with her finger.
They pulled up to the studio, an iconic legacy establishment that was coasting on its reputation to charge outrageous session fees—the same thing Merritt herself was doing, now that she thought about it. She’d recorded her second album there, and as they drove through the gates, she was hit with a bittersweet wave of déjà vu that had bile rising in her throat.
A guy with a camera rig hoisted on his shoulder greeted them at the front door, and another woman wired Merritt for sound, tucking the lav mic into the collar of her shirt. Merritt considered warning them in advance that it would probably pick up nothing but her thrashing heart.
The hallways smelled exactly the same, memories overwhelming her to the point that she had to dig her fingernails into her palm to keep herself grounded. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her own face—her album cover framed on the wall, next to the platinum records for the first three singles. She had identical ones buried deep in a storage unit in the Valley that she and Niko needed to sort through on her day off.
She’d forgotten that three singles had gone platinum, actually, because all she’d heard from the label was how disappointed they were in the album’s performance compared to her first one.
But she didn’t linger, all too aware of the camera hovering over her shoulder. She was relieved when they turned down an unfamiliar hallway, away from the studio she’d recorded in, butshe did a double take at one of the pictures on the wall, stopping so short that the camera guy almost crashed into her.
She leaned closer to the image of a famous jazz trumpeter surrounded by his band, the caption identifying it as more than thirty years old. In a meta twist, on one edge of the frame, a man stood with a video camera, capturing the session.
It had been here the whole time, one hallway over, and she’d had no idea.
“What is it?” asked Audrey, even though Merritt had no doubt she knew the answer.
Merritt pointed to the piano player, swallowing several times in succession, but it didn’t help her voice come out any less choked. “That’s my dad.”
She felt Audrey’s comforting hand on her back and fought to get her emotions under control. Even though this wasn’t the kind of content they were looking for, it was the last thing she wanted broadcast to the world. They didn’t get to have this.
“Sorry.” She straightened her spine and kept moving.
She could already hear the faint sounds of laughter and chatter before she pushed open the studio door. She spotted Sadie immediately, her striking face half-covered by a curtain of long pink hair fading into blond, dark roots at the top; she was so tiny that she looked even younger than she clearly was. When she spotted Merritt, her face froze in an expression of unvarnished shock—the exact moment the cameras were there to capture.
“No way. Nofuckingway.” Sadie’s voice was muffled by the hands clapped over her mouth before she folded in half, her head dropping between her knees.
