Page 117 of The Scientist
They exchanged looks between each other.
“What?” I asked. “Spit it out.”
Lionel put his drink down. “If you guys never said you were exclusive then maybe he didn’t think he was doing anything wrong.”
I scoffed. “He’s told me a million times he’s not interested in her anymore, and yet for some reason, she made it inside his room and into his arms last night, long enough for someone to capture a photo of the encounter,” I said, my voice shaking. "How is that not a betrayal?"
Sarah was looking at me sympathetically. “Just say it,” I huffed at her.
“Lionel might be right. If you never talked about it, then maybe he didn’t consider it cheating,” she said in a gentle voice, trying not to upset me further.
But I just shook my head. Were they right? Was I an idiot to have assumed that we were together and not seeing other people? This was too much for my drunken brain to consider, so I grabbed the bottle of wine and tried to drown out any more thoughts about Lex and what else he could possibly be doing right now… orwho.
???
My head was pounding the next morning as I stepped over Sarah and Lionel, who had passed out on the floor next to me last night. I chugged a bottle of water and rifled through her cabinet looking for aspirin. I had several missed calls from Lex as well as Stuart, along with numerous texts from them asking if I was okay.
I wasn't ready to talk to Lex or face this situation yet, so I texted him back that I was fine and that I had gotten drunk at Sarah's, which was completely true.
He texted back almost immediately asking if he could come over tonight once he got back. I made up some excuse, saying I was staying at my mom’s. I didn’t know how long I could put him off, but I needed a little more time to think about things.
Lucky for me, this week was fall break at the university, which meant we didn’t have classes. It gave me the opportunity to stay with my mom and avoid Lex for the time being. I went home and packed a bag to stay with her for at least the next few days.
The more I thought about it, the more I thought Sarah and Lionel might be right. I was an idiot for never talking to Lex about the expectations I had for us. The thought of him with another woman clearly made me sick, but it felt like a complete and utter betrayal that it was Nicky. I still believed he owed me an explanation even if he didn’t consider it cheating, but I didn’t know how we were going to move forward from here. I couldn’t stomach the thought of them working together side by side, day after day, knowing they had just slept together. I had to tell him we were through, but even thinking about saying those words out loud made me want to crawl into a hole and disappear.
I started running out of excuses as to why I couldn’t see him over the next few days, and it was clear he knew something waswrong. He kept asking to see me, begging even, but I wasn’t ready. By Wednesday, I stopped answering him completely. I shut my phone off and just spent time with my mom and Carl. She was sympathetic but still pushed me to go home and talk to him. She figured there must be some explanation, but I couldn’t think of any that would explain what I saw.
After dinner one night, I was checking my emails to see I had an obnoxious amount from my old producer friend, Logan Shipley. I smiled at the colorful language he was using to tell me he found out from Jimmy that I’d been in California all this time and that no self-respecting New Yorker would ever stoop so low. I decided it might be time to finally give him a call.
“Hadley Olivier,” Logan answered. “As I live and breathe.” Logan was in his late thirties, impatient beyond measure, and brutally honest—a New Yorker through and through, so we’d always gotten along really well. We’d worked together a handful of times over the years and our collaborations were always successful.
“Hey Ship,” I said, calling him by his nickname.
“No one’s been able to get a hold of you in months, including me, and now I have to hear from Jimmy fucking Blackmore that you’re doing some weird teacher cosplay out in California.”
“Jimmy’s got a big mouth,” I retorted.
“Seriously, Olivier. What could you possibly be doing in the land of the gluten-hating, tree-hugging, lip-plumping hipsters?” He was biased against pretty much any state that wasn’t New York, but California was at the top of his shit list.
“I just needed a change,” I told him, not wanting to get into it.
“Alright. Whatever you say,” he said, dropping it. That was the great thing about Logan. He never prodded, probably because he really didn’t care. He was all business, all the time.
“Well listen, I haven’t been calling you for shits and giggles. I’ve got this new girl, Fiona Lockwood… I’m telling you, Hadley,she’s really got something. Her record company hired me to produce her debut album, and we’ve got some great stuff so far. But we need your ear for the ballads. Feedback from the label is that she still sounds a little too bubblegum. It’s a pop album, but they want a single that sounds a little more sentimental that will really showcase her pipes, and you know I can’t do that kind of shit. There’s only one person for the job, so spare me the bullshit and just agree to it.”
I laughed. “If I did agree to it, I couldn’t stay long.”
“I don’t need long,” he said. “Besides, if I know you, you’ve already got about twenty songs ready to go.”
He was right. My mind was already going through my catalog, thinking of which ones in particular would fit a young pop solo artist.
“When does the record company want it finished?” I asked.
“They want to release it in early March.”
“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.” Hopefully, my mom would get to a point where she was well enough to fend for herself for a few days, but we weren’t there yet, or at least I wasn’t.
“I need an answer, Olivier,” he pushed.