I bit the inside of my cheek.
But why did Reid King caring about me, even just for a millisecond, make my heart skip a beat?
Chapter Thirteen
Reid
Rod was right. As was Carissa.
After last night’s stunt, I would be the center of every single entertainment magazine, article, show, etc.
I got it. I jumped off the stage in the middle of my last set and grabbed Brooklyn off the ground for many, many eyes to see. But she was a helpless woman getting stepped on during my concert—what was I supposed to do? Leave her there? Keep singing?
I audibly groaned, rubbing my hand over my face feebly. I knew that if it were anyone else, some random fan, I would have stayed onstage and let security handle it, because that was what I was supposed to do, but it wasn’t just some random fan—although some of the articles were saying it was.
They were calling me a knight in shining armor because I “saved” her. The video was on every single social media outlet, every single online blog, everywhere. There I was, Reid King, sweaty as hell in my faded flannel and black jeans, swan-diving off the stage and swooping a beautiful woman off the floor as security tackled the two men responsible for the fight, and then rushing her backstage before anyone jumped on my back.
It was reckless.
It was extremely stupid on my part, especially because I knew that there would be some people who thought Brooklyn wasn’t just a fan, and that she was more.
More, as in my girlfriend or lover—which she was neither. We weren’t anything other than two adults collaborating on music together.
Carissa mentioned that me being seen with another woman—even if it was Brooklyn—would help get Angelina out of the press. It would show the press that I’d moved on; therefore, Angelina and all the gossip regarding her would be long gone.
Maybe I should just move on.
I clenched my teeth so hard that Rod probably heard it all the way in the front of the bus. I knew I’d never get over it, not until I knew the truth. Not until I faced the truth. I was holding onto something, and yet, I had no clue what that something was.
I stared at my phone, ready to press play on the voicemail that I listened to like clockwork, ready to try and decipher it as if there would be some new clue as to what truly went wrong with Angelina. Maybe there would be something new that I hadn’t heard before, giving me even just a slight glimpse of the truth, but then I heard Brooklyn’s muffled voice outside my door.
“Oh my God. Will you stop?!”
Then I heard another voice, one that I didn’t recognize.
“Please let me see him! I can’t believe you hid this from us. Some teacher retreat? You little liar!” I cocked my head as I moved closer to the door. A tinier voice sounded. “Wittle wire.”
Brooklyn laughed softly. Her laugh was like a slight breeze on a warm summer day, blowing over my skin at just the right time. The muscle caged inside my chest skipped a beat each time I heard it.
Brooklyn’s hushed voice sounded again. “Stop teaching my niece bad words. And I didn’t tell you guys because you’d ask a million questions.”
“How did this happen? How the heck are you on a tour bus with Reid King?” I had realized by then, after eavesdropping, that Brooklyn was talking to someone on the phone. “THE REID KING!”
My lips tugged upward. “Well…” Brooklyn started. “You know Jane’s uncle? He thought I’d be a good fit for Reid, and… the pay is….”
The other woman’s voice suddenly turned stern. “No.” Then, who I was assuming was Brooklyn’s niece repeated in her tiny voice, “No!” The other woman sounded again. “Don’t even think about it.”
Brooklyn, sounding innocent, asked, “Think about what?”
“I’m not taking the money, Brooklyn.”
My brow furrowed.
“You won’t have a choice.”
“Brooklyn, no. You’ve given me enough! Can’t you see that? Just lift up your shirt and look at those scars!” What? My mind instantly revisited the visual of Brooklyn, naked and glistening with water from her steaming shower the other day, my hands tingling as heat coated m
y body. She did have scars, though. I remembered quite vividly.