Page 54 of One Last Verse

“It’s very difficult to stay impartial in your position. I’d probably feel the same way if I were dating Frankie Blade.” Linda laughed softly. “You made a smart move by distancing yourself from the magazine. You don’t want Levi and the rest of the team to be caught in the crossfire when the press finds out you’re dating Frank. Have you reached out to the social media agency I recommended?”

“Not yet.”

“You should do it before TMZ takes notice. I would also suggest talking to your mother and brother.”

A shiver ran down my spine. The idea of going public was like a flu virus, incubating, waiting to hit me and my family. “I’m scared,” I confessed.

“Which is normal,” Linda explained. “But as long as you prepare yourself for what’s coming and stay away from social media when it hits the tabloids, you’ll be fine.”

I allowed her words to settle. My job was stressful enough to have taught me how not to let things get to me, and while I liked to think of myself as a thick-skinned gal, with Frank, everything felt different. It was as if he possessed all parts of me—my body, my mind, my heart. He was embedded into my thoughts every second of every day, and it was the most terrifying feeling ever.

“Don’t you dare tell him or anyone else about Joel and Marshall,” Linda warned me as she got into her SUV. “Not even your imaginary pet.”

“My lips are sealed.” I ran my fingers along my mouth and turned an invisible key to let her know I’d keep quiet forever.

After our goodbyes were said, I went back inside. The thunder of Brooklyn’s voice raged in the den.

“You shouldn’t have kept her,” she fumed, pacing around.

Frank stood near the window and stared at the ocean, his faced withdrawn.

“Your name will be in circulation with their Hall Affinity press releases. Do you really think it’s a good idea to share a publicist with your former bandmates?” Brooklyn continued, ignoring my presence.

“First, I like her and I trust her instincts,” Frank responded in a flat tone. “Second, I want my name to be shoved into every inbox that gets Hall Affinity news. It’s still my fucking band. I made them. The world should remember that when they hear someone else singing my songs.”

I recognized the struggle in his breath, loud and heavy puffs against the muffled rumble of the ocean. He’d seemed fine just a few minutes ago, which made me wonder if Brooklyn had said something to him while I was gone or if he’d led me to believe he was getting better when he wasn’t.

“It’s not like Linda Schwab is the only good publicist in town,” she retorted.

“I’m keeping her. End of story,” Frank said and walked out of the den.

There was a shift in the air. A change.

“I can’t with him!” Arms flinging, Brooklyn rolled her eyes. Then her gaze jumped over to me. “He’s so goddamn stubborn.”

“Tell me about it.” I shook my head. “I’m out of ideas on how to make him give up the stupid lawsuit obsession.”

“Honey.” Brooklyn gave me a fake smile. “Nothing’s going to stop that man from trying to get back at KBC. He’s hurt, embarrassed, and angry. So you can take it down a notch with your daily deep throat treats.”

What do you know? The woman had sense of humor after all.

A week after our initial meeting with Linda, Dante’s first on-camera post-Frankie Blade interview hit the internet.

It was a cool, foggy Malibu night filled with the distant rustle of palm trees and the croon of the ocean. Wrapped in a blanket, I was sitting on the terrace with my laptop, going over my pitch, when an email notification with Levi’s name popped on my screen.

The link in my inbox that I instantly clicked opened a YouTube video. There were very few people in my life I truly hated. My father probably took the top spot, but at that moment, Dante’s name dominated myworst person of the yearlist. The headline pissed me off.

“Hall Affinity to Reveal Their New Singer’s Name Very Soon: Guitarist Dante Martinez acknowledges the band has been going through a rough patch and fresh blood will definitely breathe life into the ensemble.”

A time stamp indicated the video had been uploaded an hour ago. The view count was nearing two hundred thousand and I felt like I was late to the party.

Drawing a loud breath through my teeth, I hit the Play button and started watching the interview. Dante’s smug face filled the screen of my laptop. Eyes glazed, smile tipped all the way up, he looked higher than Mount Everest. A thin fringe of dark stubble shadowed his jaw and cheeks. The man was in his element, as always.

My stomach felt queasy as I listened to the string of slurry words pouring from the speakers. A strange sadness washed over me.

Backstabbing jerk, I thought, dragging the slider forward after the two-minute mark. This interview was an insensitive slap in the face. Dante could have done without it, but, of course, the man fed his ego with loads of attention. He had to go in front of the camera and tell the world how the band hadn’t been the same ever since Frank’s accident.

My phone pinged.

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