Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Which brings me to me.
Door Number Three.
Did Cooper write those shocking lyrics . . . about me?
If he did, the marketing strategy theory doesn’t hold water. My celebrity status got a major boost after my appearance on Sing Your Heart Out a couple seasons ago, but still, I’m not famous enough for Cooper to include me in a song just for publicity. No, if those lyrics are about me, then he wrote them out of real jealousy. So, that begs the question: does Cooper feel jealous of me? And if he does, is his reason rooted in paranoia and delusion, or some facts I’m clueless about? Like, maybe, I dunno, Ruby having sex dreams about me and saying my name twice?
“I can’t believe he’s attacking me like this, for the whole world to hear,” Ruby mutters and sniffles into my chest as I hold her tight.
“He’s an asshole,” I murmur, rubbing her back. “I’m so sorry, Ruby.”
Ruby cries in my arms for several minutes as I do my best to comfort her. But finally, she leans out of my embrace, wipes her eyes, and says, “I knew he took the breakup badly, but I never thought he’d do this.”
“Give him a call. Beg him not to release the song.”
Ruby scoffs. “The song is literally called ‘Don’t Call Me,’ Kendrick.”
“Call him anyway. What do you have to lose?”
“My dignity and self-respect?” She shakes her head. “I refuse to give him the satisfaction.” She leans her head against my shoulder again. “It’s a moot point, anyway. He blocked my number.”
“Call him on my phone, then. Or I’ll call him and—”
“Absolutely not.” She sits up straight. “You can’t call him about this or anything else, or you’ll only make things worse for me.”
“Why? Cooper’s always liked me.”
“No, Cooper secretly hates you.”
I laugh. “Why?”
“Jealousy. You’re everything he wishes he could be.”
Jealousy. The word stops my heart. That sure feels like a point in favor of door number three. “Good,” I mutter. “Because I secretly hate him, too.”
Ruby giggles, despite the tears still raining down her pretty cheeks.
“You could call Reed and ask him to pull the song.”
“He’d never do that for me.”
“You never know. You’re one of his favorites. Everyone knows that.” It’s true. Ever since Reed came to that fateful gig in Chicago and signed our band on the spot, he’s always had a soft spot for our adorable keyboardist. It’s never been anything weird or sexual. Nothing inappropriate. More like a big brother vibe, thanks to the way Ruby always manages to provoke smiles and laughter from him like nobody else.
“Reed won’t care about my feelings if it means screwing himself out of a hit song.”
She’s probably right about that. The Prick, as we all call Reed, is all about the Benjamins. His nickname definitely didn’t come out of nowhere. “What do you have to lose?” I ask, even though I’m now feeling less confident about my idea. “The Prick seems fractionally less like a prick since he got married. Georgina’s cast some kind of happy spell on him, I think.”
Ruby twists her plush lips. “Yeah, he does seem a tiny sliver nicer these days.”
“Right? And if appealing to Reed’s new softer side doesn’t work out, then you can always threaten to sue him, River Records, and Cooper’s band for defamation and emotional distress.”
Ruby presses her lips together. “I doubt Reed would take a legal threat from little ol’ me too seriously, sweetheart.”
“Why not at least try? Even if your chances of convincing him are slim, they’re not zero.”
Ruby processes that. “I’d probably have a better chance at convincing Reed than Cooper.”
“I agree.”
“Although that’s not saying much.” With a long, dejected sigh, she grabs her phone and places the call. And a moment later, she straightens up and says, “Yes, hi, Owen.” That’s a good sign. Owen is Reed’s longtime, trusty personal assistant, and he adores Ruby even more than his powerful boss.
After pausing for Owen to speak, Ruby says, “Unfortunately, not great. I just heard Cooper’s new song. Mm hmm. So, I called to talk to Reed about it.” She pauses. “Owen, I don’t care if he’s brokering world peace. This is my life we’re talking about, my reputation, and I—" Ruby pauses again, and a second later she exhales, shoots me an excited smile, and replies to Owen, “Thank you so much, O. You’re the best.”
I squeeze Ruby’s shoulder, and she flashes me a heart-melting smile.
“Put it on speakerphone,” I whisper, and she immediately grants my request.
A few seconds later, Reed says, “Hey, Ruby Tuesday. I’m assuming you’re not a fan of Cooper’s new song?”
“Don’t release it, Reed. I’m begging you.”
Reed audibly shrugs. “Cooper’s an artist. He’s entitled to express himself in his art.”
Ruby scoffs. “That song isn’t art. It’s slander.”
Reed chuckles. “Slander? My goodness.”
“Don’t mock me. It’s slander, Reed.”
“I disagree. In fact, if the tables were turned and Cooper called me because you’d written a breakup song about him, maybe one called ‘Flying the Coop’ or something, I’d tell him the same thing I just told you: Ruby’s an artist. She’s entitled to express herself in her art.”