Wright that Got Away, page 21
“Do you think it’s a bad idea?”
“Telling the truth is never a bad plan. But public outcry will fall on you. People will want to be you. They’ll want what you have. They’re going to be jealous. And jealous people are mean. You handle social media like a pro, but this is next level. I’ve lived it, and I know how devastating it can be to see what total strangers say about you on the internet. So, you have to be a hundred percent sure.” She shot me a meaningful look. “Are you?”
I gulped. I was totally sure about Campbell. Things were tricky with our past, but I had never been happier since I’d let him back into my life. I was here in LA. I was sure this was what I wanted. Right?
“You know what? Don’t answer,” English said. She squeezed my hand. “Think about it. The gala isn’t until this weekend. We can plan for it like it’s all happening, and if you want to back out and give it some more time, that is A-okay. No one’s feelings are going to be hurt if you want to protect yourself.”
I swallowed and nodded. “Okay. Thanks, English.”
“I’m your publicist. Not Campbell’s. I am looking out for you, girl. You are my number one priority.”
“Really, thank you.”
English smiled, and it reached her eyes again. “Why don’t I show you around Rodeo Drive, huh?”
Campbell was jittery the rest of the day. He was ready to get into the studio Monday to talk to Michael, but I forced him to spend the afternoon here with me in the summer sun, lounging poolside. It was relaxing after the conversation with English, where she’d warned me that my entire life was about to change. I hoped that I was making the right decision.
The next morning, I found what Campbell spent his money on.
“Holy shit,” I gasped as I stepped into his garage, full of sports cars. “What the fuck, Campbell? You drive a Range Rover at home.”
He ran a hand back through his hair but was smirking. “I have a thing for classic sports cars.”
“I can see that.”
I wasn’t a car buff, but even I knew that most of these were worth a pretty penny.
“I didn’t buy them all mint. Sometimes, Vail helps me figure out which ones to get. She’s been out a few times to work on them with me. It clears my head.”
“And you get your hands dirty,” I said with a wink. “Hot.”
He snorted and pointed one out. “This baby. That’s what we’ll take. It’s a ’61 Ferrari California Spider.”
“I don’t know what that means, but yes.”
I ran my hand down the shiny black finish, opened the passenger door, and sank into the leather interior. It was the most beautiful car I’d ever seen, let alone ridden in.
“We’ll take the top down on the way home,” he told me as he revved the engine.
He brought my hand to his lips and gave me a kiss. Then, he shifted into gear, and we shot out of the garage and down out of Hollywood Hills.
Campbell dropped me off outside of The Beverly Hills Hotel, where Court and English were staying. He kissed me before driving off toward the studio. I met English at the front entrance.
“You ready?” she asked.
“Yep.”
We took a cab to Rodeo Drive, and I was mesmerized by all the shiny boutiques. English knew exactly where she wanted to go, as if she was a pro. We tried out outrageously priced gowns half of the morning before we found the one.
“Oh my God,” she gasped. “That fit is fire.”
I laughed. It was stunning. Maybe the most beautiful thing I’d ever worn.
I passed English my phone. “Grab a picture.”
She held the phone up and took a bunch of snaps from different angles. “That’s the one. I know it is.”
I sent it to my group chat and Honey, who had been messaging me about work all morning. I immediately received a wall of responses.
Annie: Yes!
* * *
Jennifer: Holy shit, Blaire!
* * *
Annie: Yes, yes, yes!!!
* * *
Piper: Whoa, that is gorgeous. Where are you wearing something like that?
* * *
Annie: Don’t ruin this for us, Pipes. Tell us you’re buying it!
I glanced down at the tag. My eyes bulged. It was in the mid-four-digit range. For one dress. I gulped. Well, that changed things. “It’s too much.”
“No worries,” she said. “Campbell slipped me his card to cover it for you.”
“He what?”
English laughed. “He said something about spoiling you.”
“That sneaky bastard.”
“You’ll get used to it,” English said with another laugh at my outrage. “Court is the same way. I make great money, and still, he wants to pay for all my shit. I’ve learned to go with it. It’s better than the alternative when the guy is an asshole and nickel-and-dimes everything he pays for, as if you owe him after the fact.”
“Well, yes, I suppose so.”
“So, we’ll get it.” She gestured to the clerk to ring it up.
I responded to the long string of messages.
It’s official. It’s mine!
The girls all squealed with delight in my messages, and I just laughed. I wished they were all here, shopping with me. I missed them.
Honey’s response came in then.
Wow, Blaire. It’s perfect. I’ve never seen anything like it. You’re still coming home, right? Everything is so glamorous out there!
I laughed and shot back a text.
I am definitely still coming home. This is for one event. You’d love it here.
English crossed her arms. “Now, I have one business question.”
“Okay.” I handed her back my phone and then stepped into the dressing room to remove the gorgeous dress. I still couldn’t believe it was going home with me.
“Nate King.”
I winced. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. You know, he’s actually the cousin of a friend of mine.”
“Is it Gavin?”
“Yes!” English said. “You know Gavin?”
“I knew that Nate went to New York to visit him.”
“What a small world,” English said. “So, what’s up with you two? I noticed he hasn’t been on your feed in about two weeks, but he was all over it before that. What happened? All the sordid details, please. It’s better for me to know what I’m walking into. Nothing seems confirmed either way on social, which makes it a lot more amorphous.”
I sighed and then stepped back out of the dressing room. “Nate and I never dated. He went to my friend’s wedding with me, and we hooked up. Nothing official, and then I realized we weren’t into each other. We’re still friends and business associates. He’s met Campbell. He knows what’s up.”
“I see. Hmm…do you think he’d be willing to make a video, congratulating you on Saturday? That way, it’s clear you two aren’t together and you haven’t been for a while?”
“I could ask him. I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”
“It’s going to be sticky either way.” She tapped her mouth. “But no worries. I’ll figure it out. If you give me his contact, I can reach out to him myself.”
“Okay. Sure. You think people will be mad?”
“Campbell Soup girls? Definitely. The rest of the world? Probably not.”
“All right.”
English signed off on the receipt and thanked the salesperson. The dress would be delivered to Campbell’s house later in the week. She linked arms with me as we traipsed out of the designer boutique and then stopped in her tracks at the next location. Her smile curled up on the corners like the Grinch when he had a terrible thought.
“What?” I asked. Then, I saw the lingerie boutique in question—La Perla.
“If we’re using Campbell’s credit card, we might as well use it for good, right?” English asked.
My grin matched hers. “Oh, definitely.”
31
Campbell
“He’s not here yet,” Viv said before I could even open my mouth.
I deflated. “How did you know I was going to ask?”
She arched an eyebrow and picked at her new neon-purple nail polish. “Because I know you.”
“Bobby is waiting for us,” Santi said, bounding in my direction.
We hit knuckles.
“And West?”
“I introduced him to Micky, and they started in on technical speak. I lost whatever the thread was and left them to it. I bet they’re already in the studio, figuring shit out.”
I nodded. Well, that was a relief. Micky worked in the recording booth. He knew his shit. He’d helped record our last two albums. If he and West hit it off, it was going to make our lives a lot easier.
“Good. And Yorke?”
“Can you believe that one of the receptionists is a Peppermint Patty?” Santi asked.
“Yes,” Viv and I said together. We glanced at each other and cracked up.
“He’s like the fucking Witcher. He basically grunted and said fuck through the whole conversation, and she had heart eyes.” He opened his eyes wider and fluttered his eyelashes.
Viv smacked him. “Hey, be nice.”
I laughed at the whole spectacle. I was glad that we were all still good, even with everything that had happened with Michael. He felt like an essential part of our team. Like we’d lost an appendage. I hoped we wouldn’t have to learn to live without him.
Yorke came around the corner with a smirk on his lips. His hands were in his pockets, and he nodded at me. “Sup.”
“Heard the receptionist is a Peppermint Patty.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Yep.”
“You get her number?”
“Yep.”
“Cool, bro.”
The door opened then, and Bobby Rogers stood there, waiting for us.
“Campbell, you made it!” He shook my hand vigorously. “You ready to get back into the studio?”
I frowned. “Yeah, Bobby, I’m ready. We have, like, half an album, but what about Michael?”
“Michael. Yes, of course. Let’s go chat with him.”
I glanced at the rest of the band in confusion. Bobby seemed ready for us to get started, but Michael was still the biggest unknown for me. We’d written and released the last two albums with him. I couldn’t imagine doing this one without him.
We followed Bobby into a conference room. Michael entered as we were all taking seats at the table. He looked…good. Better than I’d seen him in Lubbock. He’d shaved, and his clothes were neat. But the biggest change was that he was smiling. I didn’t realize until then that I hadn’t seen him smile in months.
“Hey, Michael,” I said, jumping to my feet to shake his hand. “Good to see you, man.”
“You too, Campbell.”
He hugged Viv and then shook hands with Santi and Yorke. Santi looked like he wanted to pull him in for a hug of his own, but we were on uneven ground here. Santi’s normal antics had started the explosion that ended with Michael leaving the band. None of us knew exactly what was going to go down.
Michael took a tentative seat across from me.
“Go on, Michael. Tell them,” Bobby said.
We looked from one to the other.
“Tell us what?” I asked.
“I thought a lot about it, and I want out of the band.”
“Michael,” I said, getting back to my feet.
Santi followed my suit. “Come on, man. It wasn’t like that.”
Yorke kicked his seat back onto two legs, looking more somber than normal. Viv bit her lip and crossed her arms. She looked like she had been bracing herself for this. As if she’d known it was coming since she’d tried to talk to him before he got on that plane out of Lubbock.
Michael held up his hand. “I know it’s a big step. I know you’re probably all mad at me for leaving. I don’t blame you for any of it. I was mad, and I said things that I regret. You’re all still family to me as far as I’m concerned. The last couple years have been incredible. More than I ever thought was possible for me to have. But my journey with Cosmere ends here.”
“But why?” I demanded. “Because of Lubbock?”
“No. Look, we made the best music in years there. I get why we got out of LA. I just can’t keep on with this lifestyle. I can’t be away from my Virginia and Maisie like this. I owe them more than that.” He shrugged. “We have enough money to live off for life if we needed to. And Bobby…he offered me a role in production if I wanted to stay in LA.”
I looked at Bobby, as if seeing him for the first time. He was very calm. He’d already known exactly what this conversation was going to be. He’d decided Michael was out and offered him a way to still be in the music industry without being in the band and away from his family. Best of both worlds. And he’d told none of us.
“You knew,” I accused anyway.
Bobby shot me a look full of pity. Then, he smiled that viper smile. “Of course I knew, kid. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Then, why did you get us all together like this? I thought we were going to talk to him to get him on the same page. You said we just needed to give him time.”
“Campbell,” Viv whispered.
But my carefully controlled anger, the anger I’d spent years in therapy getting under wraps, was catapulting to the surface. I didn’t want to lose Michael. Not to this.
“Whose side are you on?” I snarled.
“There are no sides, kiddo,” Bobby said with that same smile. “There’s just the music industry. Michael wants out. You want to stay in. If you wanted out, that’d be a different story. You’re the front man. You write the lyrics. Cosmere doesn’t exist without you.”
Viv looked down at her nails. Santi glanced at Yorke, who was staring fixedly at the table. Michael huffed in irritation at the brush-off. That he could leave and everything would be okay but not if I left.
“No,” I said. “There’s no Cosmere without the band. There’s nothing without Michael either.”
“Campbell,” Santi said with a sigh, “Michael wants out.”
I whirled on Michael. “You love this band. You love performing and creating music. Do you really want to give that all up in our prime? So you can sit behind the booth and watch other people do it?”
“I…” He hesitated, as if he hadn’t considered that question.
“Cosmere is as much your band as mine. We want you to be in it,” I insisted. “We flew home to talk to you, to try to bring you back. Not to just roll over to Bobby Rogers, just because he’s fine with you going.”
“All right, Campbell. He heard you,” Bobby said.
“We do want you back,” Viv said.
Santi nodded. “We’re sorry about what looked like an ambush. It was my stupid mouth. You know how I am.”
“Yeah,” Michael said with a soft laugh. “I guess I do. I was just so frustrated that I was missing everything with Maisie. I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to miss anything.”
“We get how important they are to you,” I said.
Michael shook his head. “No, you don’t. You can’t understand. None of you are married. None of you have kids. It’s just a different world. And fuck, I want to stay in the band. You know I love you, but it feels like it’s one or the other.”
“We can bring them on tour. We can stay in LA to record,” I bargained.
“These things weren’t offered until I threatened to leave,” Michael said. “That’s bullshit, Campbell, and you know it.”
“It’s not Campbell’s fault either,” Santi said. “We did what was best for the band. We didn’t realize you were going to leave because you had to make some sacrifices.”
“Sacrifice is all I’ve done for this band,” Michael said.
“So, what are you going to do?” Viv snapped. “Leave? Quit? Are you a quitter, Michael?”
He opened his mouth and closed it. “Fuck, Viv. That’s how it’s going to be?”
“There’s a compromise here,” I interjected. Because Viv had my temper, too, but it was not the Hulk; it was Black Widow—slower to rise but inevitably swift and merciless.
“If he wants to go, then let him go,” Viv shot back. “We have been here for you for years. We’re your family, too. And you’re abandoning us. So, sure, run home to the wife and kid. Leave us behind and in the lurch without you. If that’s what you want but remember that you left your family behind.”
“That’s not what this is,” Michael said.
“Isn’t it?” Yorke asked. It was the first time he’d spoken, and the fact that he was agreeing with Viv was like Thor bringing down his hammer.
Michael flinched at the words. “I want to stay, but I can’t. So, if that means I’m abandoning you, if that’s how you see it, then fine. Say what you want. I wanted to reconcile. I’ll be around. I’ll help with the album even. It’s just…it’s just over for me.”
Then, he stood, turned on his heel, and walked out of the room.
We were silent for a few minutes as Bobby followed him.
Then, I slumped back into my seat, all my anger dissipating in an instant. “Fuck.”
Viv nodded. “Yeah.”
“What are we going to do?” Santi asked.
Yorke got to his feet. “We’re going to get into the studio and record the best album of our career. Fuck him.”
Our eyes widened at that. It was the most words I’d ever heard him string together. And it also got us moving.
We trudged out of the conference room and down to the studio. West was in the recording booth, playing the piano for Micky. I recognized it as the melody for “After You,” which was heavy on keys. We waited for him to finish before entering.
“Let’s try it from the top,” I told him.
West arched an eyebrow. “Michael?”
“He’s out.”
West’s face crumpled. “Sorry, man.”
I just shrugged. We’d talked to him. He’d chosen. There was nothing more we could do.
