Page 136 of Sing For Me

“Hey,” Dennis says, holding up his hands. “You didn’t give me a lot of choice, you know?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gestures around the room, sneering. “You’ve been hiding away in this house for more than a year, Eva. You refuse to do appearances. You refuse to record—”

“She’s recovering!” Marissa yells, but Dennis is leaning closer, his eyes narrowed on me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at me with so much disdain, the usual ingratiating, flattering expression he always wears for me peeled away for once.

“What you’re doing is throwing away your career,” he snaps. “I am desperately trying to keep you relevant. Keep people interested in you. Even though you give me nothing in return.”

“You dick,” Marissa hisses.

“You think music careers last forever?” he continues. “You think people are going to give a shit about you in six months? You keep behaving this way, hiding out here, licking your wounds, acting like a fucking child, and you just watch how fast it all disappears.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Marissa says. “I’m going to rip your arms off and use them to beat your smarmy, greasy little face.”

He rolls his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. This isn’t personal. It’s business.”

“It’s personal for me,” I whisper. “It’s my career, Dennis. My injury. My life.”

“You’re fine,” he shoots back. “Your doctors are coddling you. When you go and see Dr. Kyler, he’ll tell you. There’s no reason you can’t work.”

“I already told you, she’s not fucking seeing that quack,” Marissa yells, so loudly I jump a little. I’ve seen my girl pissed on my behalf before, but this is a whole different level of rage. She looks ready to call up her armies and burn his life to the ground.

“She’ll see him if I say so,” Dennis shoots back, whirling on her. “You seem to think you have some kind of power Marissa, but what you keep forgetting is that you’re afucking PA!You pick up the laundry and make sure her fridge is stocked. I do the real work. I’m in charge here.”

“Actually,” I say, surprised by how steady my voice sounds when the rest of me is shaking. “I’min charge.”

He spins to face me, eyes narrowed. “You hired me to oversee your career,sweetheart. And that’s what I’m doing.”

“I did hire you,” I agree. “Which means I can also fire you.”

The room goes still. Dennis stares at me for a long moment, completely motionless. Finally, he rears back, rolling his eyes. “I have a contract, babe. You can’t fire me.”

“Pretty sure that contract includes an NDA,” I tell him. “And leaking my personal info to the press is going to be a big problem for my lawyers.”

He glares at me for a long moment before his features relax, eyes softening. “Eva, I think you’re a little overwhelmed right now. Obviously this breakup was tough on you. Why don’t you enjoy your day with your friends and we can regroup later.”

“Oh, fuck off, Dennis,” Marissa snaps. “She just handed you your ass, you prick, get a clue.”

I can tell he’s fighting to keep from going off on her but he keeps his expression neutral as he faces me. “I’ll call you when you’re feeling better.”

“Tell her about the doctor.” Marissa would sound smug if she wasn’t so obviously furious. “Go on, tell her.”

“As I said,” he begins, jaw clenched tight, and Marissa pushes past him to join me at the breakfast bar. “We’ll talk later—”

“Kyler isn’t even an orthopedic surgeon,” she tells me. “I looked into him. He’s a fucking primary care physician. He can’t even practice at a hospital—he’s not board certified.”

“Dr. Kyler is a highly respected—” Dennis begins and Marissa holds a hand up in front of his face, silencing him.

“I talked to some of my contacts about this guy, Eva. He has a reputation in the industry. He was just going to pump you full of drugs to make you feel like you could get through the performances. He isn’t qualified to actually help you at all.”

I feel sick to my stomach. Dennis was seriously willing to endanger my health to get me back on stage just a few months sooner? But somehow, that’s not even the worst part.

“You knew about my flashbacks, Dennis,” I say, staring at him, trying to find some shadow of the guy I’d trusted for so long. “You knew how hard it was for me to be in the middle of a crowd like that. But you sent those photographers after me anyhow.” I swallow. “And when you saw my reaction—saw that I could barely leave the house—you thought it was a good idea to do it again, today. Knowing I was a mess about Will. Knowing it would send me right back into that shitty place. You didn’t care.”

He opens his mouth to speak but I amdone.

“Get the fuck out of my house. You’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”