Bitter Truth (Hawthorne Vines #1)

I scoff. “V, it is not even midnight.”

“So? I went to bed two hours ago. I’m getting some beauty sleep. I have a meeting with a producer from Humble Roads in the morning.”

“What’s Humble Roads?”

“It’s an indie label,” she tells me, excitement thrumming through her voice. “Apparently they’re very selective, but they’re specifically looking for strong female recording artists. Joanie told me they’re amazing at launching unknowns, so … we’ll see what happens.”

“God, that’s so amazing. I’m so excited for you!” I hope my smile and happiness for her translates through the phone.

I made her promise me before I moved away that she’d update me on her success. The last thing I’d want is for her to keep things from me because she doesn’t want to hurt me or something stupid like that.

I can be pissed for me and excited for her in the same breath.

“I know you are. And I hope you know that if they sign me, they’ll also be signing all of our amazing cowrites.”

I sigh and lean my head back against the wall, staring up at the wine barrels stacked high and looming above me on racks, my mind flitting over that idea before dismissing it outright.

“Well, don’t be too attached if they tell you to scrap those songs, okay? You don’t owe me anything.”

“Enough about the stupid meeting tomorrow.” Her tone brooks no argument. “I want to get back to this Wes guy.”

I take an unladylike gulp of my wine at her return to our earlier topic.

“What do you think it all means?” I ask her. “There’s something about it that makes me feel slutty.”

“Okay, first of all, we both know you’re not slutty or you’d still be here in LA, amiright?” her words coming out rapid fire. “And second, we also know you’re not slutty because we denounce the existence and use of that word, amialsoright?”

My lips turn up at her sass. “Yeah, I know, but it just—”

“No buts,” she interrupts. “You know the kind of woman you are. You know that you can do anything, or be anybody, or do anybody or be anything, and your worth is not impacted. Am. I. Right?”

I smile, my love for Vivian Walsh growing ever larger.

“I wish you had someone there to remind you of these things on a regular basis,” she continues. “Like a me, but not as awesome as me, you know? Because clearly your family aren’t going to be the ones to do it.”

I snort, but the humor isn’t really there, and I take another large sip of my wine.

“Have you hung out with anyone other than your hot boss?”

“Does sitting at a table with vineyard employees and my family count?” I ask, feeling a little embarrassed.

“No, it does not.” Her voice rises slightly. “You need friends, lady. Real friends. People who are going to be in your corner and tell you what a baddie you are.”

I contemplate her words. Do I need a friend? Do I need someone here to remind me of all the things Vivian has been saying?

Maybe.

“Official task for the to-do list!” she enthuses, and I groan.

This is a thing Vivian does all the time. She says it’s how she keeps herself on track for her career, but it always seems like the official tasks she gives to me are never career related.

Typically they revolve around men. And self-care. And being a baddie, which makes me want to laugh just thinking about it.

“Finding a girlfriend that you can invite over for a slumber party.”

I huff a laugh. “I’m twenty-seven, Vivian.”

“So the fuck what?” she replies, and I giggle again. “We spent the night together constantly.”