“Yeah, apparently he and Trixie go way back and she’s always called him Sal. When he started his company, he started going by Anthony.”
“Um… this isn’t good.”
“No, it’s not. We haven’t done a legit interview since Sam was managing us and now that she’s not here to monitor questions, I’m afraid of what shit is going to be asked.”
I start to pace, thinking about what we can do. “We don’t have to do it. We’re not under contract to perform so we’ll skip the interviews.”
“You know, I thought about that as everyone was setting up,” he pauses and puts his hat back on. “But we need the press. We need to be in front of the people again.”
I shake my head, not willing to put myself out there. “I can’t.”
The door to the green room opens. Trixie steps in, looking like the Trixie of old. Her hair is jet black and her lips are painted crimson red. She looks like she’s about to shatter the dreams of every wannabe musician tonight.
“I need you, Page.”
“No can do, Trixie. Interviews are messy and we don’t have an agent or manager to ward off fucked up questions.”
Trixie walks up to me with her hands on her hips. “I gave you a shot when you needed it and now I need you. I need people to see that it’s never too late to come home.”
“I know that, it’s why I left LA.”
“You may have left LA, but it didn’t leave you. You still depend on the industry to provide for you. I need you, Page. You came back to help, so do it. You owe me.” Her hands drop from her hips and her posture changes. She looks sad and broken. I shouldn’t fall for this, but I am. She’s right, I do owe her.
“Fine, but if there’s a question we don’t want to answer, we’re saying no comment.”
“I don’t give a shit if you flip them off, just go sit at the table and fucking smile. Make those reporters wet themselves for all
I care.”
I watch Trixie leave, throwing her hands in the air and mumbling to herself. I look over at Harrison, who is stoic. “I guess we need to go out there.”
“Yep,” he says as he walks toward the door. I follow in step, just like usual. This was something Sam had done for us, lined us up. She always said it was important that I was the last one to enter. Even though she’s gone, we’re still walking the same way.
As soon as we’re visible to the reporters the clicking of shutters and bright lights of bulbs are going off like crazy. I’m instantly on edge, and as I sit down next to Layla, I realize I don’t want to be here. I’m also hit with the fact that for the first time in years, I miss Sam right now. When I look up, I quickly see Mr. Moreno, a.k.a. Sal, in the corner. He tips his glass to me as I fight the urge to flip him off.
Every fiber of my being is telling me to chase after Bianca and ask for more. Not for another apology, but for more of her story. Maybe if she can explain her life to me, I can help Liam understand, even though I’m not sure I fully grasp everything she just told me. What I do know is Liam and I, as a couple, have been robbed of a relationship with Bianca. To me, Sterling is a lost cause. Even if he showed up full of apologies, I can’t see myself listening to him, let alone believing a word that comes out of his mouth.
Since Liam and I started dating, I’ve been the outcast - someone who would never be good enough for their son. The photographic memories Liam and I share have always included my family or Katelyn’s and Mason’s. The Westburys were always absent from all of them. I don’t even know if his mother ever posed with him for a prom photo. My guess is she didn’t, especially knowing he was going with me.
I head to work before more anger starts to set in. I can’t dwell on the past or change what has happened. I can only make a change for the future, if that’s what I want. I’m not sure it is though. How much effort do I put forth not knowing whether Bianca would return the gesture or not? Or whether she would be allowed to? We all know Sterling is controlling but Bianca came to my baby shower so either she’s sneaking out, or he’s just too old to care. Or maybe she’s had enough and is standing up to him. I have to admit I find the latter harder to believe.
As soon as I enter the florist side of my business, Jenna barely pops her head up from under the counter. I give her my best ‘what the hell look’, causing her to shake her head.
“I’m restocking,” she says disappearing under the counter.
“I did that last night.” I walk around and find the wrapping paper scattered all over the floor.
Jenna sits back on her knees and sighs. “I made the mistake of letting Eden loose for a few minutes and apparently she didn’t like the way we had things.”
“At least she’s cute,” I say to Jenna’s back. Eden is adorable and has everyone wrapped around her little finger, but she’s a complete terror when she’s on a mission and nothing seems to be able to change her mind.
“Let me help you.” I bend down and start gathering the sheets of paper we use to wrap the flowers in. “How are you doing?” I ask her, curious if I’m losing touch with reality because while I miss Liam, the pain I was feeling earlier – the heartache – has subsided and that scares me. This is also the first time Jimmy’s been gone since the shooting.
Jenna shrugs and slides her stack of paper back into the cubbyhole. It doesn’t escape my notice that she’s wiping away tears. I don’t know if they’re from Jimmy being gone, or because of Eden causing havoc. “It gets easier, right?” When she looks at me, her eyes are red and puffy. I drop my stack, adding to Eden’s mess, and pull her into my arms.
“I want to tell you yes, that it does get better, but I would be lying. I think we just get used to it.” I pull back and wipe away her tears. “It’s different for each of us. I was asking myself the same thing earlier. I’m not in agony over him being gone; does that mean I love him less?”
She shakes her head. “I’m so worried though. What if he’s not ready to be all crazy up on stage?”