Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 78227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I stare at his words.
Here I am, standing by the women’s room. With another man.
I have no intention of sleeping with him. I was thinking maybe I could get him to sign the documents, and then somehow get out of here without…
But…no.
I don’t want representation that way.
I certainly don’t want representation from this guy, who’s only willing to give it to me under these conditions.
For a moment, I allowed the idea of helping my family get ahead of everything else, including my self-respect.
No longer.
And as always, Brock helps me see the reality of the situation. His timing was perfect.
Show was great. I love you too.
Then I turn to Sequoia. “Change of plans. I won’t be coming to your room tonight.”
He strokes his jawline. “That’s too bad. I could make your band the biggest thing this year.”
I scoff. “This year is almost over.”
“You think that matters? When the Lane Agency talks, the world listens.”
“The Lane Agency might be interested to know of your tactics,” I say.
“Do you think my tactics are any different from anyone else’s?”
“Perhaps I’m naïve, but I’d like to think there are still a few agents out there who are ethical.”
Sequoia chuckles. “You’d be sorely disappointed.”
“Then I guess Dragonlock won’t be finding representation anytime soon.” I tear up the card he gave me and throw it at his feet. “See you around.”
I return to the bar where Jesse still sits, along with the rest of the band now.
“I ran into Sequoia when I went to the bathroom,” I say. “Turns out he’s not interested after all.”
“Shocking,” Jesse says, rolling his eyes, “after making us wait half an hour.”
I raise my glass of Scotch. “You know what? Who needs an agent anyway?”
“Well… We do, sis, if we want to get anywhere.”
He’s not wrong. I’m just so tired of it all. Two agents in two nights, both of whom thought we were great but also wanted something more in return.
“I guess we go back to Grand Junction tomorrow,” I say.
“There won’t be any agents there,” Jesse says.
“But you know what will be there? Audiences. People. People who come to hear us play, Jess. People who love us. Who we can entertain. And at the end of the day, isn’t that our only objective?”
“Sis, I get as much out of entertaining as you do, but right now we need cash.”
I sigh and nod. “I know.”
And I feel the worst about not taking Sequoia up on his offer.
But I can’t betray Brock. I love him so much, and I want a future with him. If I went to another man’s room, even with no intention of sleeping with him, how could he forgive me? He might not be able to.
And I wouldn’t blame him.
I wish he were here.
But he has his family issues, and I’m glad to be away from it all for a week.
“I half expected Brock Steel to show up again tonight,” Cage says.
“Not tonight,” I say.
“So I guess you’re rooming with me then, sis,” Jesse says.
“I guess so. Try not to snore too loud, would you?”
“I don’t snore. You snore.”
We’re back to normal now. Brother and sister giving each other shit. Feels good.
I don’t miss Sequoia McAllister for a minute.
I do miss Brock, though.
I miss him so much.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
BROCK
My blood runs the coldest it ever has.
A doozy?
I haven’t checked in with Rory all day, so I text her quickly.
Sorry I haven’t been in communication. Dealing with… Well, you know. I hope the show went great. I love you.
She texts me back.
Show was great. I love you too.
Part of me wishes I had driven to Utah again, but by the time Dad, Uncle Bryce, and I were done at the office, I couldn’t have made it in time for the show.
If only I were there with Rory, in a hotel room making love, instead of here, waiting to hear what the doozy is.
“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Dad says.
Jeff clears his throat through the speakerphone. “She’s been in therapy on and off since she and Doc moved to Snow Creek. But there have been times when she stopped going.”
“And…” Dad prods.
“According to all the information you gave me and from other stuff I could find, those times all coincide with times she’s been involved with Pat Lamone.”
“So are you thinking that Pat tells her not to go to therapy?” Dad asks.
“I can’t begin to know if that’s the case. But it does seem suspect, don’t you think?”
“I think we all know that Pat is far from innocent here,” I say.
“I had that thought as well,” Jeff says, “so I went ahead and hacked his medical records.”
“Good man,” Dad says. “What did you find?”
“Nothing,” Jeff says. “I found absolutely nothing.”
“No medical records?”
“No nothing.”
“What exactly are you saying, Jeff?” From Uncle Bryce.
“I’m saying that Pat Lamone doesn’t exist.”
One by one, our jaws drop. First Dad’s. Then Uncle Bryce’s. Then mine. In a freaking row.