I flipped my ponytail behind my shoulder. “You know these boys. They need a strong hand or they start getting too big for their britches.”
She crossed her arms and nodded. “You’re preaching to the choir. I’ve been around this business my whole life. I know how it works.”
Jenna Carter-Sotero was music royalty. Her father owned Shine Records, andmyfather ran the R&B and rap division. Though she was several years younger than me, we’d known each other for years. When she married Gabriel, I’d been surprised, to say the least. Both of us had sworn off musicians from the time we were old enough to know better, but it seemed that hadn’t worked out too well for either of us.
“Come have lunch with me. We haven’t chatted in ages,” she said.
I checked the time on my phone. “I can spare thirty minutes.”
She winked. “I’ll take what I can get.”
She’d obviously pre-planned this invitation. She led me outside to the parking lot where a little table was set up in the shade of the building. A platter of sushi sat in the middle, a mini bouquet of flowers resting in a Ball jar beside it. There were cloth napkins and real chopsticks.
“Really, Jen?”
She shrugged. “I love a nice table, what can I say?”
“Mind if I take a picture for my insta? I’ve been woefully neglectful over the last couple weeks. My followers are getting restless.”
She fluffed her brunette bob. “As long as you take a picture with me too. I’ve been waiting for you to ask me, but since you haven’t, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”
I laughed. “You want to be on my Instagram?”
“Sure. Gabriel’s been on there, and he holds it over my head like I’m not insta-worthy.”
She wanted her dress in the shot, so one of her security guards snapped several pictures of us, both with the table and the buses as the background. When he handed back my phone, I took a few pictures of the pretty centerpiece.
We sat down to eat, and normally I’d Hoover down a half-dozen eel rolls without taking a breath, but my appetite had gone missing over the last few days. I knew the cause: guilt over not calling Mo—my husband. When I left that hotel room a little over two weeks ago, I’d intended on calling once the tour got going, but the more time that passed, the more unreal the entire night seemed, and the more I had no idea what I’d say to him if I did call.
So, I put it off.
And put it off.
I’d put it off so long, I wasn’t sure he’d even want to hear from me at this point.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Jenna said.
I sighed, using my chopsticks to toy with a grain of sticky rice. “I’m thinking about a guy I hooked up with before the tour.”
Her eyes brightened, and she leaned forward on her elbows. “Do tell.”
There was no way I’d be mentioning our marriage, but I could tell Jenna most of the dirty details and knew she’d keep it between us. Well, she’d probably tell Gabriel, but I considered that a given when I shared something with a married person.
“He’s a musician, which I hate. But I don’t hate him. I’d met him before and wrote him off, but the night before we left Vegas, we happened upon each other and connected like I’ve never connected with anyone. And the sex…” I shivered, remembering the weight of his big body pressing me into the bed. “I left while he was sleeping and left a note saying I’d call him, but I haven’t.”
She gasped. “I did not think your story was going in that direction. Why haven’t you called him?”
“Because I’m scared and stupid. And I’m so busy right now, I can barely think straight. Even sitting here with you feels frivolous, but my stomach was so empty, it had started consuming itself.” I leaned in just as she had. “Also, he’s eight years younger than me, so whatever we had that night was clearly doomed from the start.”
She waved me off. “Age ain’t nothin’ but a number, baby. Gabriel is ten years older than me and I don’t see you blinking.”
“It’s different when the woman is older, and you know it.”
“Pfft. It’s entirely a case-by-case basis. Now, if you told me your hesitation was due to him being a musician, I’d understand more. I always say Gabriel is the exception, not the rule. I don’t trust these rocker boys as far as I can throw them. But you may have met an exception.”
“There’s no doubt my hesitation is due to him being a musician. He’s a flirt and a player.”
Jenna paused, a California roll poised at her mouth. “But…?”