Of courseDarcy had signed with the same label Juliet was at. She’d been sothrilledwhen she’d gotten the news a few months ago.
She hummed, noncommittally. “Who isn’t?”
The better question was who could have avoided We, The Romantics in the last six months? Juliet would pay to know their secret as to how.
Serena’s eyes seemed to light up a little, narrowing slightly even as her smile sharpened. “Would you say you’re a fan? I wished I could have been inside to see their live performance tonight.”
Juliet was prepared to lie her ass off. She was trained – literally, hours and hours of media training – for moments like this. To give a good public impression, even when she wanted to snarl out the truth.
And then she heard it. She heard Darcy’s laughter from somewhere behind her, the sound grating in her ears the whole way down. It sounded bawdy and sofull, like she didn’t have a care in the world, and Juliet knew it belonged to her even though they hadn’t met.
She would have known it even if she hadn’t watched Darcy’s interviews – when she couldn’t stop herself from obsessing – trying to spot her weaknesses, trying to find some real, big character flaws. That laugh just sounded like her, the sameDarcyas her singing voice.
And the words escaped Juliet before she could stop herself.
“You know – the thing about Darcy Kincaid is that sheistalented. Truly. Very talented. But there is a bit of a difference when I’m recording, and especially when I’m performing. It’s not the same experience when you don’t have two other people to lean on. It’s a lot easier to shine when you’re not doing it all by yourself.”
Juliet had been alone in the truest sense of the word when it came to her career for a long time.
Obviously, she had her management team. Harrison – particularly when she’d been younger – had overseen all of her meetings and contracts. She worked with her co-writers and producers on her albums.
But when it was all boiled down: Juliet was the only person who got ripped apart when she didn’t do well. And when she’d been shoved into the limelight, she’d stood in it by herself. When she was on stage, she had a background band and dancers that brought a show to life, but if something went wrong, it was all onhershoulders.
Tonight, as she’d watched Darcy on stage – performing and seeming to just be having a grand old time with her sister and best friend – she couldn’t help but make those internal comparisons.
Which were now external ones.
Serena’s eyes gleamed, and in that instant, Juliet was cursing herself and her big mouth for letting her feelings get the better of her.
“Oh,” Serena drew the sound out for several beats. “So… you wouldn’t say you’re necessarilyfriendly–”
“Sorry, ma’am, but I just have to get this pumpkin back to the carriage,” Robbie’s voice cut in, coming up swiftly behind Juliet.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, using his other hand to tip his cowboy hat to Serena as he flashed his slightly crooked, charming smile at her.
Without waiting for a response – in a way that Robbie Calder, a male heartthrob, could get away with without being labeled as a dick in the media – he led her away, swiftly toward the curb.
She allowed him to do so, even as she rolled her eyes at him. “You’re aware that the pumpkinisthe carriage, right?”
He stared quizzically at her. “Huh?”
“The metaphor you just used with Serena. It makes no sense.”
“Like I give a good goddamn if my metaphors make sense,” he scoffed back at her, letting the drawl he used in public drop away.
It really didn’t matter to the women that mooned over him that Robbie was actually from a Chicago suburb and had only started spending a lot of time in the South after he’d graduated high school, in the pursuit of his music career. But his public image relied on him exaggerating thattwangin his voice, and he did it well.
“Where isyourcommon sense, hmm?” He pressed, opening the door to the car and guiding her into it.
She set her jaw, irritation with herself bubbling up inside as she dropped onto the seat, scooting in to give him space next to her. Of course, she knew that he was referencing her putting her foot in her damn mouth with Serena. She was so irate, with losing and withDarcy Kincaid, did she really have the depth and energy to expend on being frustrated with herself, too?
Yes, she did, because she was a woman of multitudes.
“Whatever. It won’t go anywhere,” she muttered, her hands curling into fists, like she could will that to be true.
Robbie didn’t look convinced, and it was for good reason.
On the heels ofPassing Notes, Juliet’s image had been decided for her. By listeners’ perceptions, which were deeply reinforced by the label and her management team. She’d been branded with the reputation of the “perfect” young woman on the rise in the country world: sweet, pure, innocent. Beautiful, but not in the way that she was ever supposed to exude sexuality.
