Blur (Changing Colors Book 2) (14 page)

“Ari and I had a late meeting, so I invited him along for dinner. I told him you wouldn’t mind, and figured it would be a good way to talk about the show,” Alistair explains, not concerned that he made a quiet dinner with his son into a goddamn business meeting. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes slightly glazed over, and the glass filled with amber liquid proves he’s already deep into his scotch. Let me rephrase. Not just ‘his scotch’, but his favorite drink. “Macallan—the older the better—neat, served in a Glencairn glass, and topped off with three to four drops of room temperate water. Not cold water, but
room temperate
water. Cold water will fucking ruin it.” No joke. That’s exactly how he orders it,
every single time
. Monologue about water temperate included.

Alistair could write the handbook on how to be a pompous asshole.

Both Jamie and I make noncommittal responses in return, smiling blandly. We’ve mastered the art of acting okay without really being okay, especially in his father’s presence.

The waiter brings a bottle of red wine to the table. He presents it to Alistair, showcasing the wine with his hands and waxing poetic about the powerful, dense, and opulent flavor. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Apparently, this is a world-renowned Cabernet Sauvignon. I know zilch about expensive wines, more of a ten-dollar bottle of White Zinfandel girl myself, but I’d bet money on the fact he chose this red because it’s their most expensive wine.

While Alistair makes a show of tasting the wine and criticizing it, I surreptitiously scroll through my menu, scanning the wine list.
Of course.
The Screaming Eagle, Cabernet Sauvignon is from 2006 and easily purchased at
thirty nine hundred
a bottle.
Jesus Christ.
Sometimes I wonder if he wipes his ass with hundred dollar bills.

I haven’t even ordered yet, and I’m over this dinner.

Jamie’s hand squeezes my thigh, grabbing my attention. His blue eyes wordlessly convey that he’s feeling the exact same way. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, whispering into my ear, “Now would be a fantastic time for you to come down with a bought of explosive diarrhea.”

A quiet laugh escapes my lips. “Why do I have to be the one nearly shitting herself? I’m pretty sure it’s
your
turn. I’m the one who stayed close to his side at Bar Marmont so you could sneak off undetected.”

He grins, nodding his head. “Touché.”

“So, Alistair tells me that you two are engaged. Congratulations,” Ari offers, raising his glass before taking a sip.

Before I can even thank him for the sentiment, Alistair is joining the conversation, asking, “How are the wedding plans coming along, Brooke?”

I shrug, fighting the urge to cringe. “Slowly, but surely. I’ve been a little busy these days, you know, with all the studio time I’ve been putting in with Careless Cockups.” It’s meant to be a dig at him and his ridiculous expectations, but he’s either oblivious or too smug to give a rat’s ass.

Alistair’s brow furrows. “Have you at least set a date?”

I shake my head. “No, not yet, but—”

Jamie takes over, wordlessly understanding my discomfort with this topic of conversation. “We’re hoping for a summer wedding. Something small, outside, and only surrounded by our nearest and dearest.”

“Are you
helping plan the wedding?”
Alistair questions, disdain rolling off of his tongue.

Jamie’s body stills in discomfort. I reach his hand that rests above the white tablecloth, and intertwine our fingers.

“I’m sure Jamie is tired of hearing me ramble on and on about the wedding. He probably knows far too much about bridesmaids’ dresses and flowers and cake flavors at this point.” I fake a laugh, smiling.

Jamie flashes me a tight smile in return.

“You had me worried there for a second, son. Unless you’ve suddenly switched teams and become a faggot, wedding plans is woman shit. Am I right?” He asks, letting a wolfish laugh.

My eyes pop open, nearly bursting out of my head.
Did he really just say that?

God, if it weren’t for Jamie’s constant need to keep the peace with his prick of a dad, I’d lay into him. I want to serve him a taste of his own medicine.
Badly
.

And more importantly, why am I still surprised by any of his words or actions? This is Alistair. I’ve seen him berate Jamie for being a ‘fuckup’ when he didn’t get a perfect SAT score. I’ve seen him choose a last minute trip to New York over attending his son’s high school graduation. He’s been nothing but a cruel, judgmental bigot since I’ve known him.

Hell, I’ve seen him release a band from their contract because he found out the lead guitarist was gay. Of course, no one knew the true reason for basically firing them. Alistair has his conniving ways of shoving shit under the rug. In his mind, he’s invincible. He can do or say whatever he wants without any consequences.

I peek at Jamie out of the corner of my eye. His face is blank. No tightness in his jaw or rigid posture. He’s become a master at hiding his true emotions in front of his father.

Ari’s eyes go wide for a brief second, before gaining composure. “When my wife and I got married, I did everything I could to let her make the decisions. For one, she has a better eye for things than I do, and two, if it was up to me, we would have had a goddamn barbecue in my parent’s backyard. I’ve always been a less is more kind of guy.” He grins towards Jamie. “Anyways, the most important thing is that you’ve got a beautiful bride by your side, right? Everything else is minor details. Congratulations again, and best of luck on the wedding planning.” He winks, raising his glass towards us.

“Thank you,” we respond in sync.

Ari seems like a nice guy, genuine enough, but I remind myself that appearances and words in Hollywood don’t mean shit. Everyone is playing an angle.
Their
angle. Even though they might seem like a good person, they’re most likely just a wolf in sheep’s clothing—ready to pounce the second you let your guard down. I guess if Alistair Wallace has taught me anything valuable, it’s been that. Play nice, fake a smile instead of letting someone know they’ve found your weakness, and never let anyone have all of your trust.

Alistair chuckles, eyes dancing between us. “As you can see, Jamie and Brooke are perfect together. They met in high school and have been finishing each other’s sentences since I can remember.”

“Actually, we were ten,” Jamie chimes in. “It was fourth grade. Brooke was the new girl at school, and I shared my Twinkie with her at lunch. Won her over on the first day.” He shoots me a wink.

I smile, despite the anger bubbling up from my chest. Alistair might be a successful businessman, but his parenting history is shitty. And that’s me being nice. His sole focus was the label, always putting musicians and bands first over his own child.

His mom wasn’t any better, filling her time with tennis lessons (
tennis instructors
), personal training sessions (
personal trainers)
, and attending charity functions and luncheons like it was her job. It’s why Jamie spent so much time with my family. It’s why the only time he ate a home-cooked meal was when grandmother made it.

Growing up, he was at our house all the time.

Millie was the one who took him to the public library to finish his science project. She was the one who brought a bagged lunch up to school when he forgot his money. She was the one who taught him how to drive a stick shift and helped him pick out a tuxedo for prom.

My grandmother liked Alistair and Camille Wallace about as much as she liked getting a tooth pulled. She tolerated them because they were my best friend’s parents. And she had no qualms with welcoming Jamie into her home. She treated him like family. She loved him, cared deeply for him, and thought of him as one of her own.

I don’t know why it still shocks me that his father can’t remember details of his son’s life. But it does. It always does. And I can’t deny the resentment I have towards him because of the way Jamie was treated—merely tossed aside—while growing up.

Alistair waves off the correction. “Anyways, have you talked to your mother lately?”

“She called yesterday after her flight landed in Barbados. Girls’ weekend with Mona and Liza,” Jamie updates. “Mom seemed to be enjoying herself.”

“I’d fucking hope Camille is enjoying herself. That woman should be able to enjoy herself with
my
money for the rest of her goddamn life without lifting a finger.”

His parents divorced years ago, and still, Alistair is not over the fact that he’s paying out alimony. The man can drop nearly four grand on a bottle of wine, but can’t bring himself to get over sharing the assets he earned during their marriage. A marriage that started off profitable for him, considering that it was Camille Wallace’s rich and affluent father who fronted the money for Alistair Wallace and Conrad Wright to start their label. A marriage where he spent most of his time banging his assistants than spending time with his family. I’m not saying Camille is a nice person, or even someone I like, but growing up, I witnessed just how awful it was for her to be married to him. If I was the judge, I would have made sure she walked away with
everything.

The server comes back to the table, taking our orders and putting an end to the otherwise awkward conversation. Frankly, I’m thankful for the reprieve. Nothing boils my blood more than listening to Alistair berate his ex-wife or talk about Jamie’s childhood in a way that would make you think he was a part of it. Even when he can’t get the details straight, he still thinks he walks on water. In that deranged head of his, Alistair Wallace considers himself a gold star parent.

That’s probably what eats at me the most. That Jamie’s father is too far up his own ass to realize he has faults. Many faults, to say the least.

Somehow, I manage to get through the dinner without stabbing myself in the eye with my fork. I spent most of the meal distracting myself with my food while eavesdropping on the conversation between the three men. This reality show seems to be turning into a green light kind of scenario.

Ari is beyond thrilled that he’s been named the producer for this possible project. He rambled for a good ten minutes about his various ideas for each episode. Alistair is convinced it’s happening, not the least concerned with what the band might think. Jamie kept his composure throughout the meal, adding very good points about the negative scenarios that could result from taking this reality show leap.

There are a lot of what ifs and unknowns.

I’m sick over the idea that I’ll be forced to be a part of something that could turn into a circus. I have a hard time believing that when you allow cameras into your life—even if it’s meant to be focused on the music and process of producing a debut album—those cameras are going to catch
everything
. Reality shows are notorious for putting a spin on things to increase viewers and drive ratings.

Who will be there to step in when the producers are splicing and editing video footage to create angst and drama? I have a hard time believing that Alistair would make sure the band, Nigel, and me are protected. Or that our personal lives aren’t somehow used in a negative way to increase a television show’s popularity.

And more importantly, What would the cameras catch if Dylan and I were in a room together?

Is it a ‘
Nice Day for a White Wedding?
’”

Jamie Wallace and long-time girlfriend are officially engaged.

StyleInTinseltown.com

Jamie Wallace—son to music-mogul Alistair Wallace and Vice President of Wallace & Wright Records—is engaged to his long-time girlfriend Brooke Sawyer, according to new reports.

While these two have previously dodged rumors regarding walking down the aisle, the happy news has now been allegedly confirmed.

After a quiet dinner with Ari Richards and Alistair Wallace, Brooke and Jamie were spotted walking hand-in-hand outside of Nobu. And cameras did not miss the giant diamond sparkling on her left hand.

According to a source close to the couple, they have been engaged since September and Jamie is “a great match for her.”

"Brooke is radiantly happy," an insider revealed. "She and Jamie are practically attached at the hip. It was only a matter of time before they made it official. They love spending time together and simply enjoy each other's company."

The couple, who have been best friends since they were kids, have yet to announce their wedding date.

Brooke is currently working with the up-and-coming British band Careless Cockups. After the success she and Nigel Matthews helped The Distorted achieve, it’s no surprise that they’ve been given another opportunity to showcase their record-producing talents.

It seems the bride-to-be has quite the busy schedule over the next year. Hopefully, she’ll still manage to set time aside to make wedding plans because we are beyond excited to see this gorgeous couple tie the knot.