Page 53 of Beautiful Enemy

“No. A do-over of the first one. And trust me, you’ll want to be there.”

13

Rae

It started with a picture.

One I posted of the beach when I was out walking Barney one morning.

Since then, I’ve posted on social nearly every day.

Sometimes with Barney, sometimes the scenery. One day I snapped a photo of Toro, his weathered profile smiling, when he came to work on the house, and we ended up talking for an hour about his daughter and the argument they had about her leaving Spain for a job in Australia with a boy she was dating at the time.

In between, I’ve reposted pictures from fans. For the first time, my following is growing, and it’s people saying they love my shows or my music or want to check out Debajo.

It doesn’t hurt that I’ve been scanning the feeds of some hashtags of local partiers to see what’s popular and, more importantly, what people are into but aren’t getting in the bright lights and theatrics of the biggest clubs.

It’s not Harrison’s pressure. It’s that I want to make Debajo great. It’s less about me, or even getting the money for Callie, and more about believing in a place and the people in it.

This morning, when I check my DMs, the name on top grabs my eye.

Beck, one of my classmates from arts school, who is in LA.

You keep making that party look so good I’m gonna crash it.

I grin.Don’t write checks you can’t cash.

My phone rings as I’m out for a run with Barney. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins as I slow to a walk and answer. After a moment for the video call connection to establish, a handsome grinning face appears.

“I read about you this week,” Beck informs me.

“Wow. I didn’t know you could read.”

His bark of laughter is warm and welcome. Beck’s outside too, his hair blowing in the breeze. “Just because I’m an actor doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

He’s not. My friend took an arts-school vlog and leveraged it into a TV deal after graduation. He stars as a psychic cop in one of the top shows on television.

“How’s the club gig?”

“I’m going to fill the place if it kills me.”

“Badass. I heard someone’s birthday’s coming up from Tyler and Annie. Which day is the party?”

I frown. I haven’t talked to Annie in a couple weeks except for the odd text. “There’s no party, Beck. My birthday’s not a day to remember.”

He cocks his head, surprised. “Clearly you need to replace it with better memories.”

“I’m trying. Tonight, I’m going to the biggest club on the island.”

When I woke up an hour ago, there was a note on my dresser in Harrison’s scrawl saying we were going to La Mer to scope it out.

Excitement bubbled through me when I stared at it, then the bottle of pills I had demoted to the dresser from my bedside table earlier in the week and replaced with a tiny vase of fresh flowers from Natalia’s garden.

“Sounds like fun.”

“It’s recon,” I say.

“Even better.”

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