Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“To make excuses for your friend?”
Darian shakes his dark curls that drive the women crazy. “Fuck no. You’re my sister. He’s known from day one that I would always side with you.”
“What if I was the one to cheat?” I ask him.
He shrugs and picks at his sandwich. “You’re my sister,” he repeats. “So tell me what happened.”
I fill him in on the meeting that we had with Laura to start going over the tour and upcoming schedule. Reverend Sister has a new album that is about to drop which means we’ll be heavy into promotions. Aside from a multi-city tour, we have to shoot music videos, give radio interviews, make public appearances, and do whatever we can to get our album into the top of the charts.
Darian’s eyes go wide when I describe what I walked in on and how nonchalant Van and the chick were, and how he acted like I deserved to be cheated on. I told Darian about what it was like when Van arrived home, and how he smelled like her perfume. That the scent was so strong, it permeated off his skin and clothes and led me to believe he hooked up with her again after I left.
My brother sat there, listening to how Laura told me to grow up and get over it because I’m married to Van Phillips as if it’s supposed to be some status thing.
“I’m not going to get over this, Darian. I’m not,” I tell him as I lean into his shoulder.
“You shouldn’t, Zara. But, I have to ask, what about Reverend Sister?” He angles his body so he can see my face. I try to smile, but my lips barely move. “It’s your band, sis. I do whatever you say, but Van is a huge part of it, and he’d be hard to replace.”
“We could hold auditions. See who is available that isn’t touring right now and bring in a ringer.”
Darian nods. “We could.”
He doesn’t have to tell me what he’s thinking. Van is likely irreplaceable, not that it couldn’t happen, but it would take time, and that is something we don’t have right now.
“Once this tour is over, he’s gone,” I tell Darian. “We’ll put the next album on hold, or we can start putting feelers out now for a replacement. I can’t work with him, and I have a feeling the divorce is going to be messy.”
“Messy and headline-making,” he adds. I have no doubt that my lovely publicist will make sure this is front-page news. She’s all about anything that will drum up sales and make Reverend Sister a household name.
levi
Four
As soon as Barbara and I arrive in Los Angeles, everyone is just waking up to start the day. I tried to sleep on the plane, but each time I closed my eyes I imagined what Iris’s body looked like and my stomach dry heaved. There was nothing left after I expelled the drink I had the second I sat down. I couldn’t, for the life of me, wrap my head around the idea that my high school sweetheart was no longer in this realm. Even at our worst I never wished her any harm. For the longest time, she was my best friend until my life went in a direction that she felt was leaving her behind. Still, she was my wife and the mother of my children, and this is the last thing I ever wanted.
There’s an SUV waiting for us as soon as we step onto the tarmac. It’s one of those all black types that you see on television being driven by an FBI agent or someone equally badass. Barbara is on her phone and giving the driver directions while I follow behind in a daze. If it weren’t for her, I’d still be in my house trying to figure out what to do. Everything flies by in a blur as the driver speeds through traffic with his hazards on, hurryingly getting me to the morgue so I can identify the body.
As I look out the window at the concrete jungle, I try to find a little of what Iris loved so much about this place. The streets lack trees. There’s a haze hovering over the city. Everything is tar, concrete, and brick. Nothing has life. It’s nothing like Nashville where we grew up or the ranch that we bought together. Here, you can reach out and touch your neighbor, giving you little to no privacy.
The house Iris lives in. . . or I guess lived in, is one that I own. I bought it mostly for the girls, so they had a place to live knowing full well that Iris was living beyond her means when she first moved here and I didn’t know how much of her alimony she had left. She wanted the payout in one lump sum instead of having me make monthly payments. I balked but relented because I always gave her what she wanted. I always wondered what she would do if she ran out of money. Would she ask me for more or take from the girls’ child support? Both questions I’ll never have answers to. Not that I truly need to know. The girls never complained about their mother, and that was good enough for me.