“Addy, wait—” But the call had ended, and she was gone. I clutched my phone in both hands, concealing a scream. I couldn’t calm myself down, the anger that had been bubbling at the surface all night was overflowing, and I had no desire to stop it. I was going to get to the bottom of this. First the text to Rory, then the picture to Addy. Whether my phone had been cloned or Elias was playing a terrible prank, or something more sinister was going on entirely…I had to get it figured out before my life was ruined. Whatever was going on, it was time for answers.
I stormed into the ballroom just as Rodney came in from the opposite door with a guitar in hand. He made his way toward me, but I ignored him, headed straight for Elias, who had a new glass of champagne in his hand, the dab of barbecue sauce still on his cheek.
When he saw me, his eyes lit up. “Wes, hi!” he waved, calling to me loudly. “Hey, guess what? You were wrong about her. Layla’s not bitchy at all. She’s so nice!”
The room fell silent, even the music dying out as I stared at him in horror. Layla’s jaw dropped, her eyes narrowing at me, and I felt my face growing ashen. I wanted to melt into a puddle right then and there.
“Oops,” Elias said, covering his mouth with his pointer finger. “Sorry. Champagne goes straight through me.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
A few hours later, after the party’s sudden conclusion when Layla had stomped out of the room with Justin close behind her, I sat alone on the floor of the ballroom, staring at the dirt in the grout between the tiles.
I couldn’t forget the way everyone had stared at me, people who had once respected me, people I greatly admired in the industry. I’d worked my ass off to make the night everything Stewart wanted it to be, and all my hard work had been for nothing.
Layla hadn’t even performed or taken her award. I knew by the time she made it home, I would be fired. Not only fired, but word would’ve spread about me. I’d never be considered hirable again in any circles she ran in. And though the music industry may seem big, I knew the world I worked for was quite small indeed. Disrespecting an artist, ruining a party—either one could be a career ender, but the combination of both was sure to do the trick.
I had no idea why I’d agreed with Elias when he’d said it. Truth was, I didn’t even know that I had. I barely even remembered the conversation. I’d just wanted Elias to leave, and going along with him had seemed easiest.
What was I going to do now?
Elias left shortly after his slipup, so quickly that I hadn’t had a chance to confront him about the text message. Truth was, I wasn’t sure where to even begin with the questions I had for him. I couldn’t tell where the anger began and confusion ended. More than anything, I wanted to know why. Why would he do this? What had I done to deserve it?
I sat there, in the quiet, empty room long after everyone had disappeared. I didn’t want to face my roommate, or the inevitable truth that I would need to move out and had nowhere to go. And, soon enough, no job to pay for any place I did want to go.
As rage bubbled in my belly, I finally summoned up the strength to stand, flipping off the lights as I went out of the room. The stairwell was quiet, my footsteps echoing loudly through the nearly silent building. Once I’d reached the eighth floor, I stared at the door, squaring my shoulders to it.
This was it. The moment of truth.
I stuck my key in the door, almost surprised that it opened—I knew it was illogical, but part of me expected him to have changed the locks before I could get upstairs. When I stepped inside the apartment, the living room was silent and dark. I reached for the switch on the wall, flipping it on.
“Elias? Where the hell are you?” I barked.
At that exact moment, I heard him roar from the bathroom, the unmistakable sound of vomit spewing into the toilet. He coughed, paused, and then I heard it again. My upper lip curled in disgust, and I couldn’t bring myself to feel any pity for him. I walked into my bedroom, grabbing the suitcase from the closet and beginning to stuff things inside of it. I’d already thrown away the boxes I’d used to move, but I could take the most important things that night and come back for the rest at some point in the future.
I heard him flush the toilet across the apartment and then listened carefully to his footsteps on the hardwood. I packed quicker, my body trembling with an unsettling combination of fear and rage.
I heard the sound of the refrigerator opening, then heard it shut moments later. When he knocked on my door, I realized it was the first time he’d ever shown that small courtesy.
I didn’t answer, continuing to pack, though the suitcase was beginning to get admittedly quite full. After a second knock, he swung the door open slowly, a bottle of water in his hand. His cheeks were pink, from the alcohol or vomiting, I wasn’t sure, and he rested his head against the frame of the door.
“You must hate me.” He waited for me to correct him, but I didn’t bother. “You have no idea how sorry I am.”
I hadn’t decided what I was going to say to him until the conversation began, but once he’d said that, I stopped packing, slamming my hands onto the piled-up clothing. “Elias, I don’t even know where to start. How could you… Why would you… You probably cost me my job.
