Page 16 of Making the Save
“Slut! They’re slut shaming you,”Tyler shouted. “Which we all know is not cool, but they’re doing it anyway. You have one more album to give the label and after the sales of the last one, we don’t need to give them more reasons to drop you because you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
“Keep talking to her like that and I’m hanging up again,” I said into the speaker.
“Mr. Hockey Player! Hellooooo…Mr. Hockey Player! I need you to just go ahead and be a jock and not think.”
I hit the end call button again.
“Wyatt, you can’t keep hanging up on him,” Sydney groaned.
“He’s mean and he just implied I was stupid.”
“But he’s the only way I have out of this,” she said.
“How does the mean dude get you out of this?” I asked her.
“He creates a better fake story,” Beatrice explained.
I lifted an eyebrow and ate the bite of hash browns I’d been saving until last. “We were two single people who happened to hit it off, got a little crazy and ended up at a chapel in Vegas. We quickly realized our mistake and got a divorce. That doesn’t sound like a complicated narrative to me.”
“Please stop saying divorce,” Sydney groaned. “Tyler’s right. My sales for the last album were so bad the label is looking for a reason to dump me.”
“And a quickie wedding is that reason?”
“No, it’s the narrative that I’m a drama queen at best or unstable at worst. And of course the killer…that I’m problematic. You don’t understand this because it doesn’t happen to men. This shit only happens to women. And it really happens to me.”
I knew it wasn’t fair. I’d been fifty percent of the problem last night by going to that chapel with her, but she was right, I wouldsuffer none of the consequences. A drunken marriage and quicky divorce wouldn’t hurt my image or my career. In fact, given that it was Sydney Malloy, it would probably only elevate my status.
If I gave a fuck about my status.
I tucked away the last slice of bacon and leaned back on the couch. My head still hurt, but the fog from the hangover was lifting.
Last night had been awesome. She was awesome. But now it was back to real life. I had this shit with my new brother. I had to figure out what I was going to do next year. And she had her pop star life andnarrativeto get back to. Clearly, me being in the picture only made things more complicated for her.
That was the last thing I wanted.
I cupped her knee with my hand. Even through the robe I could feel how warm she was. Strong. If I spread my hand out I could reach all the way around her knee. I had this urge to pull her up in my lap and explore the gap in that robe.
“I think we need to get out of Vegas, and head to our respective homes. Let’s allow the story to calm down, and then we can quietly apply for an annulment or whatever,” I said.
Beatrice coughed. Delicately. She obviously disagreed with me.
“There is no easy way to get out of Vegas,” she said. “The media are already camped outside this hotel.”
“A back entrance,” I suggested.
“Also covered,” she said. “Your only way out is through the gauntlet. The question is, do you take it on separately or together?”
“Together,” I said.
“Separately,” Sydney said.
“No way am I letting you do that alone,” I said.
She was shaking her head. “No. You go first. Get out of the hotel quickly. Make sure you have a car lined up and running. I’llwait long enough after you leave to hold the crowd, so no one will follow you. A clean getaway.”
“She’s right,” Beatrice sighed. “It will be easier this way.”
“Easier for who?” I wanted to know.