Page 60 of Silk and Steel

“Then what is it about?” Emory asks.

Harvey sighs. “Look, the studio execs, they’re the ones pulling the strings. I do my best to look out for the band, but there’s only so much I can do. The board is concerned that this media circus is drawing attention away from the band’s single and upcoming tour.”

“This is bullshit,” I growl.

“I know,” Harvey says, wiping a hand down his face. “I know. It kills me to be the bearer of bad news. But you don’t work here anymore, Emory. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Harvey turns his back and walks away, shaking his bald head. I actually think he is sorry. I still want to put my foot up his assfor not having a spine and standing up to the studio, but like he said, it is what it is.

“Let’s just go,” Emory says, getting in the truck. “Take me home, Cole. Just take me home.”

On the way out, we pass by TJ peering out at the dispersing protesters and paparazzi.

When he spots us, he gives us a nod and then turns toward Emory.

“Man, those Paps are the worst. Management too. Don’t you sweat though. We’re gonna make it right.”

Emory gives him a weak smile. “Thanks TJ. Make sure you all keep practicing. And remember, lift your left arm for the Motif.”

TJ does a little bow. “You got it boss lady.”

Emory is silent for the ride home. I try to engage her, but she only grunts or doesn’t even respond at all.

“On the bright side,” I say as we pull into her driveway, “there’s nothing keeping us here in LA. We can leave town, and find somewhere hidden and safe to keep you until Lovejoy is taken care of.”

Emory doesn’t respond at first, but then she turns and gives me a smile.

“You’re right. When we get inside, I’ll start packing.”

My heart skips a beat. I can’t believe I was finally able to convince her to leave.

“You're making the right decision, Emory.”

She nods, and smiles again, but it doesn’t quite reach her blue eyes. I’m worried about her.

“Hey,” she says when we get inside. “Can you do me a favor?”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“I could really use a drink.”

I chuckle and gesture at the fridge.

“Shall I get you something?”

“No, I mean, a real drink. Something stiff. Like Jameson whiskey.”

“Jameson?”

“What? It’s not a good brand?”

“It’s a great brand for the price. One of my favorites, actually. I’m just surprised to hear you say it.”

Emory kisses me, holding me tight. There’s a note of desperation in her kiss, but plenty of passion. My mind spins, even after we break apart.

“Baby, there’s a lot about me you have yet to learn,” she purrs. “Now, if you’ll be super nice and go to the corner store and get some whiskey, I’ll finish packing. And then maybe we can have a drink.”

“Right before I’m supposed to drive?”

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