Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“I’d say they have to be with names like that.”
“What do you do for them?” Brad asks.
“As their manager, I make sure they’re in the studio and working with the best producers. I manage their day-to-day. I fight for them when it comes to the labels. I get them the airtime I think they deserve. Set up tours. That sort of thing.”
“So, you boss them around and take their money.”
I glance in my rearview mirror and throw daggers at Brad. Unfortunately, he’s looking out the window and doesn’t see me.
“Brad, cut the shit,” Ben says. “Seriously, just fucking stop.”
“It’s okay, Ben,” I say quietly.
“No, it’s not,” he fires back.
“I’m just trying to figure out what she does,” Brad says in lame defense of his comment.
“What she does is protect artists from fucking vultures. Kind of like shitty mechanics taking advantage of their customers.”
“Fuck you,” Brad spits out.
Ben shakes his head. I rest my hand on his leg and give it a squeeze. I wish he’d tell his brother to leave. I know it’s unfair of me to feel this way because Ben needs his family around him, but I can’t help it.
“You boys need to stop,” Brenda says. It’s the wisest thing she’s said since I’ve known her.
I pull into the private entrance of the hospital and give the guard my name. After we park, we head to the cancer wing and Ben checks in. Within seconds, a nurse comes out to get him. He clutches my hand when his name’s called.
“Hi Ben, I’m Hope and I’m going to be your nurse today.”
Brad scoffs and I give him a pointed look. “Nice to meet you. This is my . . .” Ben looks at me and I smile. I don’t care what he calls me at this point, and while I prefer he call me his fiancé, I’m not going to force him. “My Elle,” he finally says, which makes my heart soar. “My mom, Brenda, and the jerk over there is my brother, Brad. Feel free to ban him if he gets on your nerves.”
Hope laughs and tells Ben to follow her. I pull him into my arms and tell him I’ll be right here when he’s done. He lingers for a moment and finally follows Hope behind the double doors. Once he’s out of sight, I turn to Brenda and Brad. I open my mouth to say something, but then think better of it. I don’t want to fight with them, especially not here. More so, because I don’t want either of them to say stupid shit to Ben. He has enough to deal with.
I sit down and pull my laptop out. I’m not leaving the lounge until Ben’s ready to go home. I want to be inside with him, holding his hand and keeping him company, but all the money in the world can’t circumvent some policies. It’s dangerous for anyone to be in there, not receiving treatment. The drugs they’re pumping into patients are harmful, even more so to the people who aren’t battling cancer. I have to remember this is where we have to be in order for Ben to get better.
16
BEN
It’s been two weeks and I already want to give up. My house is sterile, and it feels weird to be there. I know why Elle did what she did, but I hate being home. There’s a live in . . . well, I don’t know what to call him. He cleans up after me. It doesn’t matter what I do, he’s behind me. If I go to the bathroom, he comes in right after me and cleans the toilet. If I change my clothes, he washes my other ones immediately. I know it’s to protect me from these fucking drugs running through my system, but I feel like a freak, and I hate it.
This is my off week. My week to rest and rejuvenate if that’s even possible. I don’t want to leave the house, and I don’t want anyone here. Except for Elle. She seems to be the only one to understand I need space. She works in the office, while I sit on our balcony and stare at the water, wondering how long it would take to swallow me whole. Elle checks on me for food or if I want some company, and then goes back to work. Honestly, I think she’s writing a book or streaming shows on her laptop because I don’t know how she’s getting any work done. She should be out scouting for talent and signing new artists, but she’s here, by my side. At first, I thought of her as a babysitter, but she’s more than that. She’s my voice when I feel like I don’t have one, and as much as I hate to admit it, I need her. Yet, I feel like I have nothing to offer her.