“Why don’t you take a guess? And show me just how gullible you can really be?”

“That wasn’t a real doctor? And I wasn’t sick enough to miss the show?” Lexi looks at me with mock-pity as she slow-claps. “You made me miss the New York show for nothing?”

“No. I never do anything for nothing. You missed the show because you were getting in my way.”

I shake my head in disbelief. Lexi leans back against the kitchen counter, stretching her long, bare legs out in front of her.

“You’re … you’re a bitch.”

Lexi laughs as she picks up an apple from the fruit bowl and plays with it in her hand.

“That’s not even the bitchiest thing I did yesterday.”

I take a couple of steps closer to her, my limbs feeling like coiled springs.

“What are you talking about?”

Lexi takes a loud bite of the apple and looks at me expectantly.

“No,” I say, refusing to let the thought take root. “No. You didn’t.”

“I probably did.”

“No. How could you? You didn’t even know.”

Lexi nonchalantly wipes the corner of her mouth, but her lipstick is still picture-perfect. “I know I have a good voice – but I have even better ears.” She puts on a comical impression of Brando. “‘Oh Haley, that night you told me Rex Bentley – the legendary singer - was your father, I got such a hard-on. Poor you, having such famous parents.’”

I bury my head in my hands, clawing at my hair.

“I can’t believe it. This is too much,” I say, looking back at Lexi. “It doesn’t make any sense. What do you get by telling the press about that? If anything it just makes me more famous, gives me more attention – more than you. Why would you do that?”

“Because,” Lexi says, turning serious as she tosses the apple away and strides slowly toward me, “I couldn’t give two fucks about your career anymore. I don’t care how many sweaty guitar geeks give your lousy records great reviews. I couldn’t be more oblivious to how many shows you sell out. I’ve realized what I really want.”

She stands in front of me, inches away, her face so close I can see the thickness of her lashes.

“I want Brando back.”

This time it’s me who laughs, hysterically, my body reacting with the only response it can find for something so insane.

“Are you fucking crazy?” I shout, pacing away from her and then turning back. “What? You thought I’d assume it was him and then we’d…” I stop laughing when I realize she was almost right, that she almost got exactly what she wanted.

I step toward her, finger in front of me. “Well it didn’t work. And it never will. Brando’s still mine. You failed. You and all your stupid fucking games.”

Slowly, Lexi puts her hand around my pointed finger, and pulls it away from her face.

“It’s not over yet, babe. Brando’s still going to choose me.”

“Wow,” I say, shaking my head. “You are one hundred percent, no holds-barred, batshit crazy. How can you even think that he’d still go back to you? I almost pity you for being that deluded.”

“I’m giving Majestic a choice. Either they drop me, or they drop you. Once you’re gone, it’ll be just me and my Brando again – just like old times.”

I turn and take a few steps away from her, unsure of whether to laugh or to call the men in white coats. I spin back around to look at her, standing proudly.

“You’re crazy. The label’s not going to drop me for a prima donna like you. You might be a star, Lexi, but you’re also a huge pain in the ass,” I say, stepping back toward her. “And even if they’re stupid enough to drop me, Brando’s not.”

Lexi licks her lips like she’s preparing to bite.

“You seem pretty certain that you know what Brando will do.”

“I do.”

“Are you sure? How long have you known him? Three months? Four? Try four fucking years with him. Four years that took us from a shitty studio apartment in Harlem to the Hollywood Hills. Four years to understand each other, to know how to make each other happy, to know how to push each other’s buttons.”

“Those years don’t count for anything,” I snarl, losing some of my self-control. “You made sure of that the instant you cheated and left him, left the real music. All you cared about was money and fame.”

Lexi’s unfazed. “That time must have counted for something – the only reason you’re even here is the bet he made to get me back.”

I clench my fists and hold them tightly to my side.

“Maybe he loved you at one point. But not now. Not after the way you treated him,” I say, the shakiness of the words letting both of us know I only half-believe it.

“And how exactly did you treat him, Haley? I saw the way you kept your distance from him on the tour, even though he wanted so badly to have a little taste of whatever it is you’ve got. I heard about how you assumed the worst of him the second you heard the Rex Bentley story broke out. You didn’t even give him a chance to explain, did you?”

I stand there stiffly, my mouth open as if to say something, but the shaking tension of my body, the stabbing fears in my mind, are too much to handle. Lexi’s got a point.

“You keep acting like I’m the one who’s fucking up your relationship,” she continues, “but the truth is, you’re the one who got in the middle of ours.”

Lexi laughs when she sees I’m too shaken to talk, and starts walking toward the door. She opens it, and looks back over her shoulder.

“I’ll tell you one thing you don’t know about Brando,” she says. “He’ll sacrifice everything he has, for the one thing he wants.”

She steps through the door, but just before she’s out of earshot I find my voice.

“You’d better hope he still wants you, then.”

Chapter 15

Brando

I drive home before going to Majestic to meet Rowland, calling the small team of college students I hired to manage Haley’s website and her social media to tell them they need to get their asses to my place as soon as possible for an emergency meeting. Even though I drive with all the impatient recklessness of a man with hours left to live, they’re in the lobby by the time I arrive, laptops under their arms. I bring the five of them into my apartment, seat them in the lounge, and stand in front of them like a general about to give the briefing for a suicide mission.

“Okay, guys,” I say, clapping my hands, “listen up. The next couple of days it’s crucial we put a mark on this thing. I’m going to need all of you to work like motherfuckers right now. Whatever I’m paying you, triple it. Now we can’t stop this story from spreading, but we can try and shape the conversation a little bit.”

I point to a couple of the wide-eyed students opening their laptops hurriedly. “Steven, Jessica: You take social media. Haley is nervous about her sore throat – she still hasn’t had it checked out. She’s gutted that she missed the New York show, but the tour went great, she’s eternally grateful to her fans for their support, and can’t wait to finish off the album. Act like you don’t even know about the Rex Bentley thing, you’re above it, it’s just some dumb rumor that you’re way above even acknowledging.

“Ross, Michelle: Find the freshest, biggest articles on the story – the ones that everybody else is linking to. Make multiple accounts, and comment on them. ‘This is just a dumb misunderstanding,’ ‘how is this even news,’ ‘daughter or not, her show was still awesome,’ that kind of thing. Make it seem like the logical reaction to this is disbelief and scorn for the guys who write about it.

“Simon,” I say, looking at him with keen intent, “here’s what I want you to do. Make a fake account, and message the people I’m going to give you the email addresses for. Tell them that you’re a source close to Haley. Tell them that they’ve got the story wrong, Rex Bentley is not her father.” I pause for a second while he nods. “Mick Jagger is.”