Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“Is that really bad news?” Wynonna asks from the end of the table. She’s been quiet since we sat down, and I can see she’s processing all of this.
“It is if we don’t handle it right,” Elle continues. “This could make both bands huge, or it could turn into a circus that overshadows the music. We need to be strategic.”
“I’ve emailed you the media strategy packet we’re going to use titled: James/Floyd Public Relationship.” Elle’s thoroughness never ceases to amaze me.
“I’ve put together a comprehensive plan,” she says. “Controlled access. One major interview together—I’m thinking Rolling Stone—and a few smaller features focusing on the music collaboration. A joint photoshoot for a major magazine. Maybe a late-night show appearance together. But no reality show offers, no matter how much money they throw at you. No invasive documentaries. And absolutely no wedding speculation interviews.”
I scan the document. It’s thorough, professional, very Elle. There are timelines, talking points, even suggestions for what we should wear to different types of interviews.
“What do you think?” I ask Justine quietly.
She’s studying her phone, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in that way that means she’s thinking hard. “It’s smart,” she says finally. “But I want to make sure Plum doesn’t get lost in this. We worked too hard to get here to become ‘Quinn James’ girlfriend’s band.’”
“That won’t happen,” Elle says firmly. “Trust me, I don’t represent anyone who plays second fiddle. The whole point of this strategy is to elevate both acts. You’re not Yoko Ono, Justine. You’re Stevie Nicks.”
“Peyton’s dog? That’s nice, Elle.”
My sister flips me off. “You know what I mean.”
I do, but it’s nice to tease her.
Dana leans forward. “What about the tour? Does this change things day-to-day?”
“It doesn’t,” Elle says. “You’re professionals. You perform, you do your jobs, and what happens between Quinn and Justine is between Quinn and Justine. The only difference is that now you don’t have to pretend there’s nothing there. However, you’re going to have more security. You’re going to be exposed to paparazzi, overzealous fans, people wanting to get close to the story.”
As if on cue, I notice two men in dark suits sitting at the counter, nursing coffee and keeping subtle watch over our table. I hadn’t noticed them before, but now it’s obvious they’re security.
“This is so weird,” Priscilla says, speaking up for the first time. “Yesterday we were just opening for Sinful Distraction. Today we’re rock’s newest power couple’s band?”
“Today you’re a band that’s about to have your pick of record deals,” Elle corrects. “Three major labels have already reached out this morning. My phone hasn’t stopped ringing.”
The conversation continues for another thirty minutes, covering everything from social media guidelines to how to handle fans who might get too personal. Elle has thought of everything, which shouldn’t surprise me but somehow still does.
After our breakfast meeting, as everyone files back to the bus, Justine hangs back with me, not quite ready to dive back into the controlled madness of tour life.
“You okay with all this?” I ask her, gesturing vaguely around us, the security guards, the whole surreal situation.
She looks up at me, and there’s something vulnerable in her expression that makes my chest tighten. “Are you? This is way more attention than I’m used to. I mean, I wanted to make it in music, but I never really thought about what that would mean for my personal life.”
I stop walking and turn to face her fully. We’re standing next to the bus in a truck stop parking lot, having one of the most important conversations of our relationship. It’s not romantic, but it feels right somehow.
“Hey,” I say, cupping her face in my hands. “Look at me.”
She does, and I can see the uncertainty there, mixed with excitement and love and a dozen other emotions.
“I’m more than okay with it,” I tell her. “But if you’re not—if this is too much too fast—we can figure something else out.”
“No,” she says quickly. “I am okay with it. I want this. Us, the music, all of it. I just . . .” she pauses, looking down at her hands. “I’ve spent so long trying to prove myself as a musician. I don’t want people to think I’m with you for the wrong reasons.”
The vulnerability in her voice breaks my heart a little. I lift her chin so she’s looking at me again.
“Anyone who’s heard you sing would never think that,” I say firmly. “And anyone who matters knows that you were killing it long before we got together. Besides, I’m the one who got lucky here.”
She smiles, the worry fading from her eyes. “Pretty sure we both did.”
I lean down and kiss her. It’s soft and sweet and completely ours, despite the audience.
When we break apart, she grins. “I love that I can do that now. Just kiss you whenever I want.”