“Thirsty for Dean, maybe,” one of her lackeys snipes.
Is she serious? “Oh, honey,” I take a step toward her, “I wouldn’t go there if I were you. Heidi knows there’s only one man I’m thirsty for. Right, Heids?”
She doesn’t like my cutesy nickname, and she crosses her arms. “Then how come we just saw you come out of Dean’s room?”
My forehead pinches. Is she high? I look over my shoulder, in the direction I just came from. “Do you mean back there?” I point. “That’s my room. Get your facts straight, sweetheart.”
I refuse to interact with stupid, so I leave. I swear Heidi has nothing better to do than make assumptions about me. She should take a hint from Mean Girls and back the hell off. She could get hit by a bus.
A tour bus, to be exact.
Spying the sliding glass doors, I decide to make my way to the balcony for some fresh air. Just as I squeeze past the last few people in my way, I hear, “Hey. I’ve been looking for you.” A hand grazes my elbow, and I turn to see a certain record executive smiling at me.
“Caleb? What are you doing here?”
He ushers me to the side, then leans against the wall. “I’m keeping an eye on my interests. How have you been?”
I can’t help my skeptical look. “Things are good.” What else can I say?
“Do you like the penthouse?”
I glance around. “It’s nice. I’d enjoy it more without all these people, though.”
He laughs. “Well, at least you have tomorrow and Houston.”
“How do you know about Houston?”
He gives me a self-deprecating smile and my eyes widen. “You upgraded us?”
“Guilty.”
Well, that was generous.
“Listen, Jen.” Caleb shifts his weight. “I don’t know what Gunnar’s told you, but I want to make sure we’re okay. I don’t want any bad feelings between you and me. You’re a crucial piece of Dean’s band.”
I’m confused. “And?”
“And he could be part of the Snare Records family again. I want him to be comfortable in making that choice.”
He can’t be serious. “Do you think I’m bad mouthing you to Dean?”
He puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “I’d like to think you’re not.”
I shake my head to clear it. I refuse to get involved in anything political. “You’re overestimating my part in this. Yes, Latson’s told me about your past, but I haven’t brought it up to Dean. Why would I? You cut him off back then just like you did Latson. He doesn’t need me to remind him.”
“Precisely.” Caleb pushes his body away from the wall. “I think he’s moved on, and I’d like it to stay that way. The past needs to stay in the past. If you talk to Gunnar, tell him –”
His thoughts are cut short when Dean approaches. “Hey, man. How’s it going?” He gives Dean a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Great show tonight, as always.”
Dean grins. “I didn’t know you were there. Can I get you something to drink? A beer?” He notices me. “Jen! Do you need anything?”
I notice the glaze in Dean’s eyes. He’s well on his way to having too much. “Nope. I’m good. Maybe you should put that bottle down and pick up one of these.” I hold up my water. “You don’t need a nasty hangover.”
“You’re probably right.” Dean runs his hand through his hair. “It’s good to have a voice of reason around. Don’t you think, Caleb?”
Caleb looks at me. “As long as the voice can be trusted.”
I have to stop my mouth from falling open. He wants to talk about trust? Please.
“Deeeean.”
Oh, for the love of God.
My eyes meet the ceiling as Heidi whines Dean’s name. She walks up behind him and hangs on his arm. “Can I borrow your cell? I left mine in my room by accident.”
“Sure,” he says and pulls it from his pocket. “Take your time.”
She slides it from his hand with a sly smile. “Thanks.” She gives him a quick peck on the cheek, and I inwardly cringe. I’m going to have to speak to this boy when he’s sober about the company he keeps.
Dean and Caleb start to talk about tonight’s show, so I take the opportunity to disappear. I step around them and head to my original destination: the balcony. I find a spot between some people and lean against the railing to stare out over the city. A smile forms on my lips as I remember sitting on the fire escape and doing the same thing with Latson. I don’t know which direction I’m facing right now, but I pretend it’s east. I telepathically send my thoughts to him, letting him know I miss him and things are getting complicated here.
I take my time and finish my water before heading back inside. The party is going strong, but I don’t feel the need to socialize. Ariel’s secret has me feeling a little melancholy, so I decided to find out if my bedroom door has a lock. I don’t need Caleb finding me again, or, God forbid, Heidi. There’s nothing more I can say to either of them that hasn’t already been said.
When I reach my room and investigate the door handle, I smile when I see there is a lock. I twist it and shut the door; Roxanne will just have to knock when she wants in. I sit on the bed and lie back on the pillows; I would change my clothes but not while there’s a bunch of people here. Lock or no lock, no one needs to see me in my pj’s. My phone vibrates against the nightstand where I left it to charge, so I pick it up. Immediately, worry sets in. There are a ton of alerts – all from Latson. I click on the text messages first, even though there is voicemail, too.
We need to talk. Where are you?
I left you a message. Did you get it?
Answer the phone please.
Are you avoiding me? Call me as soon as you get this.
What is going on? Quickly, I go to my voicemail. Latson sounds pissed:
“Jen. I just talked to you. How could you not say anything? I had to find out from Dean? What the hell?”
Then, twenty minutes later: “Damn it!”
And then, seconds ago: “I’m sorry. I’m not mad. Just … call me.”
My stomach sinks as my head spins. I jump off the bed and leave the room, bent on finding Dean. What could he have told Latson to upset him? I make my way around bodies, even pushing a few out of the way so I can see. I spot Dean near the center of the room; he’s still talking to Caleb. I march in his direction, then grab his arm without saying a word and pull him to the side.
“What the –?” He frowns. “What’s the matter?”
“What did you tell Latson?”
He looks confused. “I didn’t tell him anything. Why?”
“He’s pissed at me for something you said.” I let him listen to the message.
Dean looks legitimately confused and pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I haven’t talked to him since early this morning.”
I look at my phone and tap Latson’s number, then hold my breath as it rings in my ear. He answers almost immediately.
“Jen.” He sounds defeated, even sad.
“Hey.” I wrap my free arm around my waist. “I just got your messages. My phone was charging. What’s wrong?”
He lets out an annoyed breath. “You’re still at the party? Really?”
Damn the music. “Yes. Why does it matter?”
“Because –” He stops talking and changes his tone. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
He’s silent for a moment before he asks, “Are you really going to play this game? Why can’t you be honest with me?”
I’m so lost. I wish he’d just come out and say –
Dean taps me on the shoulder. When I turn around, he looks white as a ghost. He holds up his phone, so I can see the screen. It’s his text message thread with Latson, and the last thing sent is a picture. My breath catches when I realize what it is. It’s a picture of a positive pregnancy test followed by the words:
Look what I found in your girlfriend’s bathroom.
Congrats, Dad.