Instead Lexi Wilde was here to collect all her CYAs in person and remind the world that country fans had fallen for a girl that underneath it all was paid to be liked.
This was when I needed a manager—someone who could navigate this mine field for me. Show me where it was clear to step. Who I should avoid. The path to safety.
There hadn’t been time. Between severing ties with Jake, losing Luke, and preparing for the show with Helena I didn’t have time to vet and interview new managers.
Before he could shuttle me inside, a microphone was shoved in my face.
“Lexi, what do you want to tell your fans about the accusations? Do you think it’s going to affect your chances tonight to take home an award?”
I turned to my guide, indicating I was going to stop whether or not he liked it.
“Hi.” I grinned sweetly. “I’m so happy for my fan support. I’ve felt so much love this week. Really, I can’t thank them enough.”
Years of working alongside Jake had prepared me for these kinds of questions.
The truth was my accounts were filled with nasty words like whore, slut, and hooker. I had been overwhelmed with venom and hate. It took everything I had to get out of bed. Helena had convinced me to stop reading the nastiness.
“And the awards?” the reporter pressed.
“Oh, I’m not even thinking about that,” I lied. “It is an honor to be nominated, and I just loving being here to celebrate country music with my friends.”
I felt a tap on my elbow and I knew I had to get inside or be carried.
“Thank you.”
I ducked inside and faced a crowd of my peers.
“I can find my own seat.” I told the representative. “Thank you.” I tried to be gracious, but he was overbearing. “Unless you want to walk with me to the ladies’ room?” I suggested.
He took the hint and walked back outside. I doubted there were any other artists here who caused the kind of image problems I did, but someone always showed up drunk, and you could count on at least one couple to have a major fight in the limo before the car door opened. It was standard award show activity.
“Olivia.”
I waved to one of the first artists I ever toured with. Olivia Jones was one of the biggest headliners when I started in the business. I hadn’t seen her since we did a holiday concert together last year. I crossed the lobby to give her a hug, but before I got to her she had already stepped inside the theater.
I bit my lip, trying to convince myself she hadn’t seen me.
But after the next three artists snubbed me, I couldn’t pretend any longer. I wasn’t welcome here.
The lights flickered and everyone squeezed through the doors to find their seats. I hesitated. If I left, no one would care. They would find a seat filler for me. Someone like Olivia would say I wasn’t able to make it to accept my award. But screw that. I was stronger than what they thought they knew about me.
I had a song to perform tonight.
I had awards to collect.
I had an image to rebuild, and I wasn’t going to start that by running away. I didn’t know if Luke was in my life anymore, but he had taught me that strength wasn’t sporadic. It wasn’t a convenience you could turn on and off. It was a part of my DNA.
The Lexi Wilde that clawed her way to the top was going to dig her boots in and stay.
34
Luke
I heard an obnoxious pounding sound coming from the foyer. I opened one eye and then another. I looked down at the empty bottle of bourbon on the floor. It was at least the third one. Fuck. My head hurt.
I heard it again. Someone was at the front door.
I pushed myself off the couch, stumbling to the door. I opened it.
Alexa was on the porch, dressed in a long beaded gown that hugged her hips and dipped between her breasts.
For a second I had forgotten that she had betrayed me. That we were no longer together. I saw her and my instinct was to pull her in my arms and kiss every inch of her skin. And then I remembered.
“What are you doing here?” I growled.
“If this is the only way I can get you to talk to me, I had to at least try.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
I stumbled back.
“Are you drunk?” Her eyes widened.
“Fuck yeah. You have a problem with that?”
“Is this my fault? Have you been drinking for two days? I called Linc and he said you had a cold. This isn’t a cold. This is stupid.”
“Go back to Nashville, Alexa.” I started to close the door in her face, but her palm slammed on my initials.
“No. You are going to hear me out, Luke.”
She busted past the loose hold I had on the double doors and marched into the living room. She was a blurry whirl of glitter and sequins. I couldn’t keep up. I was fucking drunk.