Absorbed(23)

“Still with the band,” I say. “Just trying my own shit right now. Which is why we’re”—I gesture at the set, which is a simple backdrop with nothing but a high stool in front of it—“here today.”

McBride releases a noise of relief. “Then we’re ready to begin.” He glances at his watch. “Melanie?”

The assistant who came to get me a few minutes ago scurries over, keeping her eyes downcast. For a brief moment, this woman gives me a vivid reminder of my first meeting with Sienna a couple of years ago. Red had jumped at just about every word I said, had flat-out avoided me at all costs, and I’d never been more drawn to anyone in my life.

I’m not drawn to Melanie—not even close—but she sure as f*ck makes me want Sienna more.

“Yes, Mr. McBride?” Melanie’s got a pen and a little notepad out, but McBride’s instructions are simple.

“Tell Christina if she’s not out of her dressing room in the next five minutes—” he starts, but I quickly stop him. That name, Christina, sounds familiar. And not the good kind of familiar but the kind that puts a foul taste in my mouth.

“That psycho who worked with me on the “All Over You” video?” I demand, and he nods. “Why the f*ck would she be here?”

“Your love interest, Lucas.”

The last f*cking thing I need in a music video to apologize to the woman I’m in love with is another woman crawling all over me, especially Christina. I jerk my head from side to side. “Fire her.”

McBride is suddenly just as flustered as his assistant. “I can’t just get another actress out here right away, Lucas. Not even for you. We can reshoot in a day or two maybe or even in—”

I shake my head again. “No, no actress at all. When I told you I wanted this video to be simple, I meant that. This is just me. No bullshit. And no actresses dancing around me or up on me. Just me and the song.

He backs away from me, his face a mask of confusion. At last he nods. “Melanie, sweetheart, can you get in touch with Christina’s agent?” When she immediately tells him she will, he adds, “And get me Deana.”

Another name that very familiar. I take a step toward McBride, pointing to set at the same time. “No need to discuss concepts, Karl. Everything I need to do this video is right there. You want something extra? I’ll hold up notecards or something, but that’s it.”

Karl’s shoulders slump, and the look on his face says it all—he thinks this is going to be a clusterf*ck of a video—but finally he says, “Can we take thirty to get everything under control?”

“I’ll be in my dressing room.”

Even though she’s busy trying to reach Christina’s people on her iPhone, Melanie is right on my heels (obviously on McBride’s orders) as I head back to my dressing room, asking me if I need anything. When we reach the room, I stand in the doorway and bar her from trying to come inside.

“If I need a water, trust me, I know how to find it,” I say as I let myself in and shut the door behind me before she can say anything else. I’m almost to the couch on the other side of the room when the door swings open. Turning abruptly, I’m ready to tell Melanie to f*ck off until they’re ready for me, but instead I face my sister. A lot of the tension I’ve been feeling seems to disappear.

“Shit, here I was thinking your ass had fallen off the face of the earth.”

But my relief to see her must show on my face because she grins. “I got your message this morning about the “Ten Days” music video, and I had to be here.” She breezes past me and throws herself down on the couch. There’s a bowl of apples on the coffee table, which she wrinkles her nose up at even as she grabs one. “Sorry it took me so long. Security gave me a hard time.”

“You were on the list.” I sit down a few feet away from her, watching her expression carefully for any signs that might point to bullshit between her and Wyatt. When she shows none of those, I add, “They should’ve let you right in.”

“It’s the hair.” She sighs, running her hand through her multi-colored hair. “It was a different color on my ID. I need to color it back, but I’m afraid it’ll all fall out if I do.”

“Kylie,” I say, but she keeps going.

“I brought you your award.” She reaches into her oversized bag and plunks a statuette that’s shaped like a giant guitar pick on the coffee table beside the bowl of fruit. “I was going to keep it, but figured you’d keep hounding me if I didn’t give it back.”