Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Layne laughed again. “Okay, well, forget about you making my night. I think you just made my year.” Layne’s phone, sitting on the counter, buzzed, and she leaned toward it, reading the text that flashed on the screen. “My manager is wondering where I am. I better go.”
“Thank you, Layne, seriously. It was so nice meeting you.”
“You too. Enjoy the rest of the night, okay?”
I gave an exaggerated eye roll and we both laughed again. This one went all the way through my body. “Hey, Layne. Be careful about leaving your drink unattended at the after-party. I’ve heard…stories.”
Her brows dipped, but she smiled. “Always good advice. Bye, Nova.”
Layne breezed out of the room, her emerald green dress flowing behind her, and I turned back to the mirror, simply enjoying the act of breathing for a few moments. My stomach growled. Maybe I still had time to eat a few bites of dinner.
I stared into my own eyes, thinking about how absolutely wrong the rumor mill had been about Layne. She hadn’t plotted to steal my fashion thunder. She hadn’t plotted anything. She’d given a budding designer a gift by wearing her dress to a red-carpet premiere. And so had I, though unwittingly. It’d come from last-minute desperation, not from generosity. Maybe I’d deserved to feel like a cased sausage for the first part of the night.
Be better, Emily. My mom always said that to me when I made a bad choice as a kid. Which was often. I’d judged Layne unfairly. I’d have liked to think I’d stop my assistant from actually spiking Layne’s drink had I witnessed such a thing, but…would I? Or would I look the other way and pretend not to notice? Would I have considered it fair and square for what I’d been told Layne had done to publicly humiliate me? Be better, Emily.
Yes, I’d judged Layne, and earlier… I’d judged Tuck. I had more reason for that. After all, the things he’d done weren’t just rumor. He’d committed a crime. He’d served time. He was a felon.
But you did know him once, before everything fell apart. Before he hurt you and everyone around him.
Once, he’d had honor. I had the sudden flash of a weight shattering the windshield of my dad’s prized car. The weight that I’d dropped while in the midst of taunting Tuck. And even so, he’d taken the blame so I wouldn’t bear my father’s wrath. He’d suffered both the humiliation and his dad’s anger—for me.
And all I’d given him was my first kiss.
Not that he knew that that was how I still thought of it.
His sacrifice had meant I was allowed to attend the music camp where I’d met a singing coach who’d changed my life’s trajectory. She’d seen my potential and taken me on as a client even though she was completely booked. She’d not only been vital in my growth as a singer, but she’d known a lot of the right people, and they had guided and mentored me, each one an integral stepping stone to my success.
And if not for Tuck…if not for that camp and everything that had occurred after that weekend… I might not be where I was today.
I sighed, removing my phone from my evening bag. There was a text from Charlie asking if I was okay and I sent a quick response that I’d be right out. As I walked toward the door, I composed a new text to my mother: Tell Tuck he has a job if he wants it. And before I could reconsider, I hit Send.
I’d only taken a handful of steps when my phone dinged with a response from my mother: You won’t regret it.
I snorted softly. Unlikely. But what was done, was done.
I pulled my shoulders back, plastered on my smile, and once again, pulled forth Nova.
eight
Tuck
I squinted up at the steel-and-plexiglass monstrosity. Others probably considered it sleek, but I’d seen enough steel and plexiglass to last a lifetime.
But this was Emily—or, Nova’s—home, my new boss, so I better get used to it, even if most of my work hours would be spent at public events. Or so I assumed. Mrs. Swanson hadn’t given me many details, only that Emily had been thrilled by the offer of my services, and that she’d outline my position when I arrived.
I entered the open lobby, heading to the bank of elevators and pressing the button to the penthouse level. My black jeans, black boots, and gray T-shirt looked worn and overly casual for a job interview, but it was all I had. Plus, I’d already been hired for the job, and so it wasn’t as if this was an actual interview. I’d signed the tax forms Emily’s accountant had sent to her mother’s email address, and a nondisclosure agreement, promising not to leak any of Emily’s personal information.