Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Hmm, he doesn’t happen to come with an off switch, does he? He. Never. Stops. Talking.”
Brix laughs. “We’ve searched for one but found nothing.”
“Did you do a thorough search?”
“No one would volunteer to get that close to him.”
I almost volunteer for the job, but I guess that whole keeping my sexuality a secret would be over then.
We get in the car, and even though I keep a paper on my lap, I don’t do anything but doodle stars and shapes on it.
I’m too distracted to concentrate on words.
Ever since Evah told me we’re definitely going to do the breaking up thing, my mind has been pinging back and forth on what my future looks like.
Every now and then, I feel Brix’s eyes on me, but unlike Iris, who has to hate silence with how much he has the tendency to fill it, Brix only seems to talk when he needs to.
Yet, that stare. That I know you’re hiding shit from me stare burns like a bitch.
It takes about an hour and a half of silence and his brown eyes on me before I crack.
“Evah and I are breaking up,” I blurt.
Half-truth.
Brix doesn’t reply right away, and when I turn to look at him, his lips press into a thin line. “Makes sense.”
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say? Everyone loves us. We’re like Hollywood’s it couple.”
“You sleep in different rooms.”
“She snores.”
“Oh. Right. That.”
I knew he didn’t believe me.
“Either way, I’m sorry whatever arrangement you guys had isn’t working out.”
“Want to hear the fucked-up thing? I never wanted to marry her in the first place.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t get me wrong. She’s a great girl, and she helped me through some heartache, but our whole relationship was a setup by the label.”
“An arranged marriage?”
“Yep. It’s actually more common in Hollywood than you’d think. A lot of couples are set up by their PR reps.”
“Yeah, but they don’t force them to get married. Why marriage?”
To keep lying or to come clean?
“It was when Eleven was breaking up. The label thought to keep me relevant and present in the public eye, the best thing to do would be to give them something to talk about.”
He says, “Makes sense,” again. It’s his I call bullshit phrase without actually saying it.
I slump. “Okay, fine, that’s not entirely true.”
“I never said you were lying.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Brix remains quiet, which makes me fall silent too.
It’s a problem I’ve always had, really, admitting who I am. It goes against the image the label created for me, and I guess it’s been easier to go with the narrative I was given than to lead my own.
My hand writes that down.
I read over the words over and over again, and then suddenly a song starts forming in my mind.
I may not be able to say it, but I can write it. Singing it is another question.
Lyrics pour out of me, and my usual back-and-forth of writing, then erasing, rewriting and cutting, ignites the muse inside me.
“Looks like you found your words,” Brix says.
“Shh.”
He laughs.
Before I know it, we’re pulling up to a mansion in the middle of the desert.
Stone-wall entry, cement-rendered and modern, the house shits all over mine back in LA.
“What kind of ass-backward ‘ranch’ is this?” I ask.
Brix grins. “We call it the ranch because it used to be a little three-bedroom cabin on the other side of the property, but umm, let’s just say Trav has been doing well these last few years.”
I get out of the car and do a full circle. “I want to live here.”
“I’m sure Trav could maybe keep you as a pet. Or a singing monkey. Don’t know if he’s a fan of boy band music, though.”
“He knows who I am. That’s one step up from you when we met.”
“We have to talk about your standards.”
I shake my head. “Nah, my standards are good. I like people who know my name more than those who don’t. Pretty simple.”
“Well, I know your name now.”
“Just what I wanted when I put my heart and soul into my solo album. Now, if only I could hire the rest of the population who didn’t buy it to be my bodyguard …”
“Decent plan.”
“Are you showing me to my room or what?” I ask.
“You mean our room.”
“Our?” My heart beats wildly at the idea of sharing a room with Brix.
“We may be somewhere safe with a group of guys I’d trust with my life, but it’s my job to be your shadow whenever you’re not in your own home. Hence, one room. Unless you really do want to camp with Iris.”
Camping with Iris would be the safer option. But am I going to take it?
Nope.
Chapter Ten
Brix
We settle into our room—one that’s at the back of the house. I wanted to get to it first because it’s the biggest and has a couch I can crash on while Harley takes the bed. Even if I am a good six inches taller than he is and he’d fit better on the couch. I have a feeling it wouldn’t go over well if I asked for the bed.