Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Whitt patted me twice. “You know it was the right thing to do.”
I followed him out to his car with the other suitcase. We loaded them up and headed back inside for the rest of my stuff and a stiff cup of coffee. Once we got in the car, I felt pulled toward Nora. She was at her dad’s. She was probably so pissed at me. Fuck. I hated leaving things like this.
“I feel like I should still talk to her one more time,” I told Whitt. “She was so angry when she left.”
“Oh no, you don’t. That is a bad idea.”
“What? Why?”
Whitt shot me an incredulous look. “Do you really not know? You just broke up with her.”
“I know, but not because I don’t care.”
“Does that change anything? Are you going to take her back?”
“No,” I told him.
“No. So, what will your presence do?”
I slumped in my seat. “Nothing. It’ll hurt her worse.”
“Exactly. You’re making the right choice. It doesn’t feel good right now, but wait until you’re in LA, playing with the band. This is what you wanted. What you struggled for. It’ll get better.”
He was right. I knew he was right. And still, it didn’t make me feel any better. I didn’t deserve to feel any better. We’d agreed that this was what we’d do. We’d agreed. And I’d been the idiot for thinking that would matter.
We arrived in the studio in LA to fanfare. Bobby shook my hand relentlessly. The contracts had been emailed to me last night. Though Viv had offered her attorney’s info, I felt better having someone unrelated to the band look into it.
So, I’d called my dad…
As much as I’d wanted to avoid him at all costs, he had the contacts I needed. He’d readily agreed to have his attorney take a look at it. And by the time I’d landed in LA, I had revised contracts in hand. That simple.
Sometimes, I forgot exactly how much power Owen Wright had. He didn’t run Wright Construction anymore, but he sat on the board of directors for other corporations in Seattle now. And the man still knew how to properly throw his weight around.
Bobby and the studio agreed to the revisions, and then I signed the new paperwork. I was officially a member of Cosmere.
“Whoa,” I whispered as soon as the papers were signed.
The band congratulated me, and pictures were taken. Blaire stood off to the side with a wide smile on her face. She’d noticed that something was off with me, but I’d avoided her, so I didn’t have to have that conversation.
We were immediately whisked to an interview to talk about me joining, then an actual photoshoot, and then a marketing meeting.
By Friday, when we were slated into Jimmy Kimmel, I’d barely had a moment to myself, except when I was sleeping. Well, when I should have been sleeping but instead tossed and turned all night. When I managed to drift off, I would wake, feeling like I’d been on an airplane the whole time, jet-lagged and exhausted.
“We’re overworking you,” Campbell said with a laugh.
I jerked awake in the car on the way to the talk-show set. “Fuck, sorry, dude.”
“Too much excitement?”
“Something like that.”
“It’ll calm down until the album comes out, and then we’ll be go, go, go for the next year. Press tours are exhausting, but there’s nothing like a world tour. You already know all about that though.”
“I’m not sure you’d say my experience as a part of a backup band would be comparable to your world tour.”
Campbell shrugged. “You’ll do fine. Just need to get some sleep.”
“Yeah. Sure. Sleep.”
I couldn’t tell Campbell the reason I wasn’t sleeping. I’d made my choice. He wouldn’t exactly be pleased to hear that I’d hurt his sister after all. Not when I’d promised I wouldn’t go anywhere near her…and, well, that was too little, too late.
The worst was that I missed her. I wanted her here with me in LA, living through the best moments of my life. Every single one of them would have been better with her here, as she had been in New York City. But that wasn’t possible.
We arrived at the set and were taken upstairs to a dressing room. Someone did hair and makeup, much to my chagrin. Apparently, those bags under my eyes were more noticeable than I’d thought.
Then, it was nearly time for our interview when an assistant poked her head inside. “Visitor for Weston Wright.”
I blinked in confusion. Who the hell even knew that I was here? I had some friends in LA that I knew from touring. We’d met up a couple times when I was here for six months to record the album, but none of us were close enough for this. Also, none of them could get backstage at Jimmy Kimmel.
I got to my feet and followed the assistant out of the dressing room. And there, standing backstage, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, was Owen Wright.