CHAPTER 71

After I perform the anthem for a sold-out crowd of rowdy playoff Lakers fans, security helps me back up to the box we have for the night. The second I see all the people I care about, I relax a few notches.

I make my way toward the front, where Emily, Rica, Andie, and Jacob are sitting, drinks in their hands.

"You were a little flat at the end," Andie says.

I rub a hand through my hair, leaning against the back of Emily's seat. "Blame the sound engineers."

"Never blame the sound engineers," Haley calls from where she's grabbing food.

Jacob leans over the front, eagerly scanning the home and visitors' benches.

"You been to a game before, Jacob?" I ask.

He snorts. "I've been courtside twice this season. The network started offering me seats, and I accepted."

"Can't remember you watching any sports when we roomed together," I say.

"We didn't have time, hustling it out. I had to be efficient with my sports consumption."

"So, you got off to a lot of jock porn," Rica supplies, and we all laugh.

"What about when you went to school, Haley?" Jacob calls. "Who'd you date?"

She joins us, sinking into a seat next to him, her eyes dancing. Even though she's only a decade older than us, I know she's seen a lot. "For a while, I had this guy Dale asking me out. He played at the open mic nights I ran on campus. In fact, he was asking me out right up until I left for Eddie's tour the summer after junior year and was ready to pick it up after I got back."

"What happened?" Rae leans across to grab some popcorn from the bin Jacob's holding.

"Eddie showed up."

Emily's jaw drops. "Dad went to a campus open mic night?"

"He wasn't there for the music," she admits, cutting a look toward her husband.

Eddie approaches, looming over us in a dark button-down and jeans. An Astros hat shields his face from any fans looking too closely from nearby seats. "The hell you talking about, Hales?" He folds tatted arms over his chest. "You make it sound as if I chased your ass all over town."

"You chased me over a lot of towns," she replies, deadpan.

We all crack up, except Eddie, who's left shaking his head, a look of adoration on his face.

Until he turns to me, motions me aside. "We need to talk."

Emily glances between us, her smile freezing before she returns to her friends, who're talking about Jacob's show.

I follow Eddie to the bar at the back.

After ordering a bourbon, he says, "We have a problem."

When the bartender nods to me, I shake my head. "I thought we had a revised estimate on the debt. Lawyers said we're in the right ballpark now."

"We are. It's not Wicked. It's the artists. Ones with contracts coming up. They're saying they won't stick around if the company sells."

I frown. "But they're the ones who subsidize the up-and-coming talent."

He nods. "The label won't be solvent if we don't have those existing artists producing hit albums."

The bartender returns with Eddie's bourbon, and we step away for some privacy, staring out over our friends who're watching the game.

He's right. Eddie has been involved in the music industry for twenty years-since he was still a teenager. He might be judgmental and brusque, but he knows the industry inside and out. He's made his fortune there, and taken his share of beatings there too.

"I know." For once, he's reading my mind. "This is the last thing either of us want to be doing this week. We can offload more to the lawyers-"

"No. If we do this deal, I want to know we're doing it right."

I'm not sacrificing a second of this week for some half-assed attempt.

I watch our friends and family talking and laughing. Nearly all of them have a career in the spotlight, but here, with each other, they can let their guard down.

An idea scratches at the back of my brain. "If the artists are the last hurdle to getting this deal done, we need to get their trust. Show them we have their backs."

"Might work. But we're leaving for an island in a day and a half. Unless..."

I cock my head.

"We invite a few. A show of good faith," Eddie says.

"Hell no." The answer is immediate. "We're not inviting them to our wedding, Eddie."

"They don't have to come to the wedding. They're not going to show at the ceremony. It's a gesture. Invite them to the island, we spend half a day talking with them. That's it."

Emily comes over. "Enough business. I thought you had good news today."

"We did, but there was a complication," I say, searching her face. "You said a couple of rooms were left in our hotel booking. How many?"

She sends a text to the wedding planner, and a response comes immediately. "We have three."

"We were thinking of inviting a couple of artists from Wicked."

Emily's mouth parts. With each second it takes her to respond, the worry in my gut expands.

"To our wedding?" Her voice is deathly quiet.

Heads turn from the front of the box as if they can sense the intensity shift, and even Eddie flinches.

"To the island," I amend. "And only if we have the space. We'd handpick people you're comfortable with, but it would go a long way to show them we look after our own."

My fiancée looks between us as if we've each grown a second head before she returns to Haley and our friends without a word.

Eddie claps me on the back. "That went better than I expected." Four days until the wedding

"How many people did Jacob invite?" Timothy asks as I shift out of the car.

"Knowing Jacob, probably everyone." The music emanating from our friend's house has blood pumping through our veins as Timothy shuts the car door behind me, his smile mysterious as he threads his fingers through mine.

My heels match my silver cocktail dress, a vintage number with mesh lace detailing along the curved neck and hem that hits halfway down my thighs. Timothy looks breathtakingly handsome in a button-down open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves over d