Tell Me Why It's Wrong Read online

  He’s right, even though his defensive nature makes my eyebrow want to rise. Nobody can clearly make out whatever the drummer says in the audio clip because there’s too much background noise and static from wherever the person who recorded their conversation was hiding their phone.

  Garrick’s eyebrows go up as if he’s still expecting to hear more about my day, so I drop my shoulders and realize I have no choice. “All Sarina is interested in is the hottest gossip. I proposed doing something softer—”

  The grin stretching across his face tells me I’m in trouble before he even says, “I assure you, Rylee, there’s nothing soft about me.”

  I don’t bother commenting on that. “I just thought if we could do some sort of human-interest piece to show the world a different side of you, then it’d get me out of hot water.”

  His playfulness evaporates. “Hot water how?”

  Evading his eyes, I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and think about the past few months. The few pieces I have written were torn apart because they didn’t compare to the Zayne Gray one I have attached to my name. Everyone tells me I need to channel that article in order to get paid the same for new ones. “Sarina hasn’t been happy with my performance at work. I know it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I was fired, but it’s the job that’s helped me survive this crazy place since I moved here. Moving on from it would feel like…” I don’t even know how to describe it. “It would feel like the reason I came here was disintegrating right in front of me. Then what’s left?”

  “Besides your pride?”

  I shoot him a look. “Anyway,” I draw out, ignoring his commentary. “She shot down my idea and told me I needed to give her something by next week because there’s a lot of pressure on the tabloid lately.”

  He’s quiet as I sink into my chair and realize how screwed I am. I’ll have to just tell Sarina that I can’t deliver and accept my fate. I’ve been looking at different jobs online before bed every night, knowing subconsciously it’ll come to that at some point anyway.

  “Does this job mean that much to you?”

  I close my eyes. “It’s not the job.”

  A pause.

  “Ah,” he says in realization. “It’s the money.”

  It sounds pathetic when he says it aloud, but I can’t deny it. Money is essential to everyday life, there’s no way around it. But there’s more than just a monetary value to it—it encompasses everything we do. It can consume us and our motives like it has mine.

  I’m surprised when a hand reaches out and taps mine until Garrick pulls my attention back to him. “You have to remember that money is just paper. It’s a tool. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with wanting to make good money and provide for yourself, but it should never hold more value than the essential purposes it serves. I’m surrounded by people who lust after wealth and material things because they’ve gotten a taste, and they lose themselves in it. But what happens when it goes all away, hmm? What are we left with if that’s stripped from us? Whoever we are is who we have to live with for the rest of our lives.”

  I’m taken aback by everything that just came out of his mouth, unable to come up with a response before he continues. “I think if I lost it all, I’d be content with what’s left behind. If I only had my soul, my morals, and the knowledge I procured, I’d be okay.”

  I have no idea who the person is sitting across from me, because it’s definitely not the rocker who once was seen leaving a public bathroom with three different women all looking equally disheveled. “That was…”

  He smiles softly. “The truth.”

  The quiet that follows his sure, brazen statement is full of tranquility.

  Would I like who I am if I lost everything?

  I frown. “I wouldn’t.” His eyes pierce mine, waiting for an elaboration. “I wouldn’t like who I am, not if I kept doing what I have been. I think I always knew that which is why nothing I’ve submitted to Sarina has ever been good enough by her standards.”

  “It’s because you gave your conscience a voice,” he says simply.

  And he’s right.

  Again.

  Damn. “I wish the world saw this side of you. All Sarina cares about is who you’re dating, sleeping with, or cheating on.”

  He rolls his eyes like that’s the most absurd things he’s heard. “Quite the combination.”

  The back of my neck tingles. “We both know that’s big news in this industry.”

  Garrick doesn’t argue. If anyone could understand, it’s someone who’s always been front and center in this world.

  I click my tongue. “Why didn’t you say anything about Hot in Hollywood? I overhead you telling Chase that you’re annoyed with all the interview requests you’ve been getting because you don’t want to speak to people about what the press is saying.”

  I’m not sure what I anticipated his response to be, but it wasn’t the confusion furrowing his brows. “What about Hot in Hollywood?”

  “Your interview with them next week. It’s all over. The show confirmed today that Violet Wonders is sitting down with Penny to set the record straight.”

  He curses, shifting his hips upward until he produces a phone from his back pocket. He stares at the screen and reads through something before mumbling to himself. “Bastards. Didn’t even think to consult us first before setting it up.”

  “They can do that?”

  His irritation already confirms as much, but he still says, “It’s not the first time they’ve pulled this, and I doubt it’ll be the last. My manager likes to think he’s in charge, but Michael seems to forget who pays him.”

  He didn’t know.

  Palming his jaw, he drops the phone onto the table and pushes it away. “Michael and my PR team want the media to stop circulating bullshit because it’s taking away from their promotional efforts for the upcoming album. It’s less about what Violet Wonders will come up with and more about what Zayne or the others are going to produce if we split. They think if we clear things up, the people will move on.”

  “You don’t think they will though.” It’s not a question, I can see it on his face—hear it in his tone. He’s doubtful.

  It’s a few moments of him staring at the phone a few inches away from him before he looks at me. “We’re older now. I’m 32, Zayne will be 31 soon, and the others are right behind us. The public is expecting us to settle down and stop living the lives we used to. They want us to grow up.”

  I can’t really argue with him there. It’s why child stars get so much flack in the press once they step out of whatever roll they made it big in. They can make one little mistake and suddenly everybody is accusing them of being out of control. Some of my favorite actors growing up are always under the microscope with the public wondering when they’ll settle and marry or have children of their own. And I can’t say I haven’t been part of the problem, waiting for the day they announce they’re getting married or having their first child.

  He murmurs something under his breath before chuckling dryly. “That would certainly create a buzz, wouldn’t it?”

  I go to answer but stop myself, unsure of what he means. “I’m not following.”

  “If the infamous playboy settled down.”

  “Like…dated?”

  “I’ve dated plenty, Rylee.”

  My eyes widen. “Marriage?”

  He grins.

  I fidget with my thumbs. “I mean…yeah. That would definitely change the narrative. But that wouldn’t really solve all your problems. The people are going to think whatever they want to about your band. I mean, you split once. That’s why the plausible chance you guys will break up again riles people.”

  The way he stares at me makes me squirm. There’s an intensity in those blue eyes that makes me wonder what’s building behind the depths. “But the people always believe in what the majority does no matter what the truth is. It’s why media outlets have such a huge following. The bigger the story, the more gullible the viewers.”


  I blink.

  Part my lips.

  Close them.

  And blink again.

  Eventually, I get out, “Okaaay…”

  He laughs lightly as if my confusion is funny to him. “I think I can help both of us.”

  This should be good. “And how is that?”

  “You’re going to write a story.”

  I refrain from rolling my eyes. Isn’t that the problem that started this whole thing? “About what?”

  His eyes twinkle with mischief. “My marriage. Your boss wants to know who I’m dating, but anyone can report on that even if it’s bull. Instead, you can write about the day Garrick Matthews got hitched.”

  I tap my fingers against the table anxiously. “You want me to write about you getting married to some random girl?”

  That idea doesn’t sit well with me, and I don’t let myself think about why.

  “No.”

  I wait, even more confused.

  He reaches froward again and captures my hand, his palm draped over my overheated skin. One of his fingertips taps my ring finger. “I want you to write about us getting married. Two birds, one stone, love.”

  I doubt the first reaction he expected was the loud burst of laughter that shot past my lips, but that’s what he gets.

  I wait for him to join me.

  But it never comes.

  Then he says, “Marry me, Rylee.”

  9

  Garrick

  Rylee is pacing in front of me, hands twisting into fists at her sides. She stops, glances at me for a few moments as if she’s waiting for someone to tell her she’s being punked, and then begins all over again.

  I watch silently, partially amused by her reaction. Sure, it wasn’t a romantic proposal, but I wasn’t expecting her to look like I’d told her the cops were here for her.

  “Rylee,” I finally say after watching her wear the floor down.

  She doesn’t stop moving.

  “Rylee.” I laugh when she ignores me and stand from my seat at the table when I can’t take it anymore. Walking in front of her until she has no option but to halt her frantic movements, I place my hands on her shoulders and say, “You need to breathe, love. I’m not asking you to give me a kidney or a child.”

  The high-pitched sound that rises from her throat makes me snort. “A child?”

  I grin pointedly. “See? Could be worse.”

  Her unblinking eyes penetrate mine. I compose myself, trying to hide the entertainment she’s unknowingly giving me. I could think of every other reaction I’d be given if I suggested this to another woman—happy squealing, tears of joy, then probably great sex. Nothing like this.

  Lowering my hands back to my sides slowly, I offer her an explanation. “You need a good story to give your boss so she gets off your back, and you need the money for your medicine. Right?”

  “Among other things,” she agrees hesitantly, voice hoarse.

  I nod in reassurance. “I need a story to break apart all the bad press we’re getting from these vultures. No offense.” She shrugs, indifferent to the fair term. “If we do this, we’ll both be set. You’d get a story printed and get your money, and I’d get people off my back about Zayne splitting.”

  Well, not completely off my back. Then the press would be digging into who my bride is, if it’s a shotgun wedding, and who knows what else. But it’s better than putting pressure on the guys to act certain ways so nobody thinks there’s a rift. It’s put a strain on all of us, especially Zayne and me with the new polls being created on social media to see whose side the public is on.

  It’s not me the majority is voting for.

  To make the deal sweeter, I point out what I’m sure she’s worried about for a long time now. “Look, I have great insurance. Your medicine will be a lot cheaper once you’re added to it. It’ll be affordable. You wouldn’t have to worry. It doesn’t have to be forever. Two years is a reasonable amount of time, especially in this climate. You’d be covered 100% without any of the concerns that you’re dealing with now.”

  I can see the breakthrough in her clouded eyes as she takes in the offer. My brows go up as her lips part to answer, the anticipation building and hard to repress. “Garrick…”

  My mouth goes dry hearing her say my name, something she hasn’t done often since I met her.

  She sighs heavily. “You don’t even know my last name.”

  I cock my head. “True, but I can’t say that necessarily matters in this type of situation considering it’ll be changed regardless.”

  It’s clearly not the right thing to say, because her muffled disbelief rapidly changes to blatant irritation. “What if I want to keep my last name? Some men change their last names when they get married.”

  “Is this your way of saying yes?” I ask hopefully, trying to gauge her reaction.

  “That’s me saying that you can’t just assume I would go along with this crazy scheme of yours even if it is mutually beneficial.”

  I stuff my hands into my pockets, wrapping my fingers around one of my Lifesavers. “What’s your last name, Rylee?”

  A heavy breath escapes her. “Simmons.”

  I look her over, matching the name to the person standing rigidly in front of me. Her shoulders are pulled back with caution and her eyes don’t leave my face despite mine roaming over her curves. It makes sense why Zayne was interested in her—she’s beautiful in a librarian kind of way, sans the glasses. Not too tall or too short, or too skinny, and doesn’t act like we’re gods walking the earth. Quiet but blunt when she needs to be, witty, and not afraid to call me out.

  To put it simply, Rylee Simmons is refreshing. She’s the breath of fresh air I need right now, which is why I need her to say yes. “I need it to be you. You’ve never fawned over me or pretended to be somebody you’re not. In fact, you seem unimpressed by half the shit I say which is a change from my norm. It’s exciting, really. This’ll work, and we’ll both get something we need in the end.”

  “It’s not…” Her eyes close as she steps away from me, giving me her back and letting her shoulders drop. Hands going to her hair and playing with the braid, she shakes her head. “I feel bad for even considering it because the idea of not having to worry about my medicine is a weight off my shoulders, but it’s not right.”

  My footsteps are quiet as I approach her, lightly putting my hand on her shoulder to turn her back around. “Tell me why it’s wrong.”

  When our eyes lock, the raw sadness coating her blue and brown orbs makes me frown. “Two years is a long time, but not long enough at the same time. Marriage is important to me, Garrick. It’s not something I ever thought I’d do more than once because when I’m committed to somebody, that’s it. I grew up in a household where we believed that getting married is sacred and we do it for love, not convenience. There’s no divorce and no escaping what you vowed to do. You’re asking me to go against those beliefs, and what’s worse is that you’re making me consider it as the best option I have right now. Like I should settle for this.”

  I’ve always considered myself an empathetic person, and the pure hurt radiating from her is soaking into me like acid rain that I refuse to seek cover from. “Rylee…” How can I ask her to do this if she feels so strongly about her beliefs? “You should never settle for anything in life. If there’s one thing I grew up believing in, it’s that. I had to see my mother go through a hard time after she and my father divorced, and it wasn’t easy for any of us adjusting to the life she was rebuilding. I understand if I’m asking too much. But just know that if there’s anyone I’d want to do this with, it’s you, Rylee Lynne Simmons.”

  A surprised laugh bubbles from her. “I’m not sure where you got Lynne from because that isn’t my middle name.”

  I shrug. “Shot in the dark. It was that or Marie, but that didn’t feel right.”

  An eyebrow quirks. “I don’t have a middle name, actually. My parents couldn’t decide on one, so they decided not to bother.”r />
  Huh.

  Her phone goes off, causing her attention to dart to her pocket where it rests. I watch as her hand fiddles with it before the sound stops, and when she doesn’t move or glance up at me, I wonder what she’s thinking.

  I hear a faint sigh. “I’m not telling you no,” she finally says, eyes shyly peeking up through her lashes. “I need to think about it. If I…if we do this, there are going to be rules.”

  “Agreed.”

  She nods once. “We’ll have to get to know each other better. Fake marriage or not, I’d like to know the real person I’m changing my name for.”

  The smirk spreads before I can stop it. “I take it you’re not that attached to Simmons then?”

  Her lips flatten. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Matthews. I was pointing out that some traditions change over the years. Plus, I’m not the one who has millions of dollars’ worth of merchandise with my name on it. It’d be unfortunate if you had to change yours.”

  Rylee has the brain and the beauty, not that the revelation is shocking. “You think on it and let me know.” I shoot her a wink and add, “You know where I live.”

  She eyes the stairs for a moment before turning her gaze back on me. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  Her lips rub together, eyes going back to the staircase like she’d rather escape than finish her thought. “For thinking of me and giving me time to figure out what to do.”

  Knowing there’s nothing I can say to that, I nod and watch as she disappears upstairs. It isn’t until I hear the door click closed that I let out a long breath and grab my phone off the table.

  “Hey, man,” I greet as soon as the line picks up. “Can we meet somewhere and talk?”

  Kyler Bishop is waiting in the corner of the Lazy Croc’s VIP lounge for me, an arm thrown over the side of the booth as he watches some workers prepare for the club to open.

  When I approach, he doesn’t even bother turning to me before he says, “We could have met somewhere else. The owner kept trying to convince me to invest in this sketchy ass place.”