The Space Between Us

By Monica Alexander

Sloane Andrews is the youngest A&R Manager at Gravity Records, she's dating a professional baseball player, and she has great friends. To the outside world, her life is pretty much perfect, but that's because it's what she wants everyone to see. The reality is that nothing in her life is perfect, and she knows something real is missing. She just doesn't know what it is. But her tough exterior and confidence have gotten her where she is in life, and the last thing she wants is to let anyone see that she doesn't have everything figured out, so she's makes a habit of keeping people at arms' length. Of course, what she doesn't plan on is encountering someone who's able to see past the façade she portrays and break down her carefully constructed walls. Someone she never expected, who ends up being someone she can't ignore.

Tate Phillips never thought he would have a chance with the girl of his dreams. But that was before he became one of the most famous musicians in the country, writing chart-topping songs, and selling out concerts. And when he signs with Gravity Records, he knows it's his chance with the girl he met years earlier, who likely doesn't remember that he exists. But he's determined to change that, because when it comes to a girl like Sloane Andrews, who he's thought about for ten years, he'd be an idiot if he didn't at least try to win her over.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Monica Alexander
• Release date: Nov 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463693957

Monica Alexander

Monica Alexander is a writer of contemporary, new adult, and young adult fiction. In 2011, she turned her lifelong love of reading and books into a career when she published her first novel, "Just Watch the Fireworks". When she's not reading and writing, you can find her at the beach, in the mountains, or hiking through a city, soaking all the beauty of the world around her and turning her experiences into inspiration for her next book.

Book preview

Chapter One

Sloane

I could almost see the alarm clock on my bedside table – almost. I just needed to lift my head a few inches higher. Of course if I did that, Blake would know I was more interested in what time it was than the attention he was paying to my forearm, running his fingertips rhythmically up and down it, in what should have been an intimate and sweet gesture.

Although it didn’t feel intimate or sweet.

In fact, my head on his chest, his arm wrapped around me, and his other arm draped over my stomach was starting to feel a little suffocating. I wondered how much longer we’d have to cuddle before it would be acceptable for me to pull away.

I tried to tell myself it was the warm June air circulating inside my apartment that was making me feel claustrophobic, but it had only felt unforgivingly warm when we’d been in the throes of passion. And I didn’t mind sweat or stickiness in those moments. Now, as we lay together, the fan above my bed was rotating, and the breeze flowing in through the window was cool as it washed over our naked, entwined bodies. It should have been a nice moment, but instead it was making me feel like I wanted to crawl out of my skin.

I’d never liked cuddling after sex, and Blake never really had either, but the last few times we’d been together, he’d seemed more and more inclined to wrap me up in his arms after he rolled off of me. I knew it was insane that I kept mentally resisting him. I should have been grateful that he treated me with respect and wanted to be with me for something more than sex. It had been a long time since I’d had a guy like that in my life. I should have appreciated his sweetness. I shouldn’t have wanted to do nothing more than give him a hard shove.

Maybe there was something wrong with me. What I was feeling wasn’t normal. I probably needed to get over my hang-ups and recognize that I was lucky to be with a guy who was so attentive. Or maybe I just needed him to let go of me, so I could get some damn air.

I had a million things to do, and although I hadn’t minded his impromptu drop-by – or the two rounds of mind-blowing sex we’d had as a result – I was ready for him to go.

Are you thirsty? he asked me.

No, I’m fine, I said, and then I wondered if maybe he was asking because he wanted something to drink. I could go get it for him. It would give me an excuse to get up. Are you?

No, I’m good, he said, squeezing me tighter.

I sighed.

Sloane?

Damn, he heard me.

Yes? I said, looking up into his soft brown eyes that were eyeing me with playful skepticism.

He grinned adorably, making me feel even worse. I’m smothering you, aren’t I?

No, I said hesitantly.

Liar, he said knowingly, and then he pulled away from me.

Cool air washed over me, and I felt like I could finally breathe.

I watched Blake sit up and swing his athletic legs over the side of my bed. It gave me a prime view of his spectacular back that was toned and cut in all the right places. He was in shape for baseball season, and I’d forgotten just how amazing his body was when he was working out daily and catching five games a week.

In the time that we’d been apart after breaking up a year earlier, I’d dated guys of all different shapes and sizes, but none had been as sexy as the man currently in my bed. In that regard, I did consider myself lucky.

I still feel weird having sex in your room with the door open, he mused, looking over his shoulder at me as I propped myself up on my elbow. I keep thinking Presley’s going to come home and see us doing all sorts of things she probably doesn’t want to see.

"I’d say they’re things she definitely doesn’t want to see," I said playfully, as I slid my hand over his hip.

Blake grinned wickedly at me. No, she definitely doesn’t.

So I guess it’s a good thing she moved out last week, I said as I squeezed his hipbone.

I’d have to agree with you, he said huskily as he turned back to me. He braced one hand on the bed and leaned down to kiss me, drawing it out, making it deep and seductive, and setting fire to my toes.

This was what I loved about him. He knew exactly how to kiss me to make me feel like I couldn’t catch my breath.

He started to ease toward me, never breaking the kiss, and before I knew it, his weight was pressing me into the mattress. I’m not sure I can go another round, he muttered against my lips.

I’m not asking you to, I said coyly as I raised my knees, cradling him between my thighs. I might not have been asking directly, but I certainly wouldn’t say no if he wanted to.

In the same breath though, I couldn’t help but think that I was more than willing for him to stay for sex, but for any other reason, I was less inclined to oblige. Maybe that was because sex was safe and easy, and it made sense to me. Everything else blurred the lines of what we’d been doing for the past few months and made it more than I was ready to think about. It made me feel like we had to define our time together, and I definitely wasn’t ready to do that.

If you give me some time, I could be ready, he said suggestively, as he lifted up on his elbows to look down at me. He’d let his dark hair grow longer in the past year, and now it fell forward, framing his eyes.

I reached up and pushed it out of his face, but it just flopped right back down. He smiled.

What time is it? I asked him, not waiting for him to answer before I looked over at my alarm clock. Shit, it was seven-fifteen.

He followed my gaze. It’s only seven-fifteen, he said lazily as he looked back at me. We have plenty of time. Maybe we could stay here a little longer, see what happens, and then we could grab shower, get dressed, and you could let me take you out to dinner.

Dinner? No.

I can’t. Not tonight, I told him, making him frown.

Why not?

It’s Friday night. I’m supposed to meet Cami in the lobby in forty-five minutes, which means I actually need to get in the shower now.

Oh, come on, Sloane. It’s not like you have hard plans or anything. You’re going to Brasserie for drinks with Emery and Cami, aren’t you? Like you do every Friday night.

Yes, I said, feeling a hint of defensiveness in my tone.

So tell them you can’t make it tonight. Tell them you’re hanging out with me.

I shook my head. I can’t, I said, feeling even stronger in my conviction. One of my least favorite things was being told what to do. It pretty much made me want to do the opposite. I promised them I’d go. It’s our thing, Blake, you know that.

I do, but I also know that I’ve been on the road for two weeks, I’ve missed you, and this is the last Friday I’m going to have off for the next few months. I sort of figured you’d want to spend it with me.

Didn’t we just do that?

I do, I insisted, instead of saying what I was thinking. I just can’t tonight.

He sighed, and I wondered if he was adding up all the times I’d said the exact same thing to him since we’d started seeing each other again.

Okay, fine. Then how about you come to my game tomorrow night?

I can’t. I have an event.

He frowned. What event?

It’s a party that the label is hosting for all of our artists. It’s to welcome the new musicians we’ve signed this year. I have to go to it.

Yeah, I get it. It’s work.

Don’t be mad, I said softly as I lightly raked my fingernails up his side.

I’m not mad, he said, pouting a little at the same time I felt the stirring of his erection against me. I figured it would be fairly easy to distract him away from his pity party. I just missed you when I was on the road, and I’m only home for one series. Then we head out west for ten days.

So come over after the game on Sunday, I offered.

He hesitated before saying, It might be late.

I knew what he really wanted to ask was why I couldn’t just come to his game, but he didn’t understand how big of a deal that was for me. We hadn’t been seeing each other very long this time around, and I still had a lot of lingering questions about whether it had been the right decision to let him back into my life at all. He’d promised things would be different, he’d said he was sorry, and he told me he loved me. I wanted to believe him. It just wasn’t that simple.

I’ll stay up late for you, I told him, looking into his brown eyes that were locked onto mine with an intensity I wanted to trust. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.

He gave me a small smile – his way of consenting. He knew me, and he knew it wasn’t easy for me to forgive him. He knew I needed time.

You know, that’s what I love about you, he said as he slowly started to move his hips, gently grinding against me. You’re always willing to do such nice things for me.

I tried to hide how he was making me feel, but instead I found myself arching toward him.

Blake, I need to get in the shower, I said, my protest sounding as empty as we both knew it was.

He smiled. I’ll be quick. You just got me all worked up. You can’t expect me to walk out of here like this, can you?

No, I said, because I didn’t want him to leave me hanging either. "Just be quick. But not too quick."

He smiled. I’ve got you, baby, he said, and then he covered my lips with his.

* * *

I was going to be late to meet my friends, but I didn’t care. Blake had more than made up for the two-week dry spell he’d caused when he’d been out of town. Not that I couldn’t have remedied the situation with someone else, because I could have. We weren’t exclusive, but I’d always been one of those people who felt weird about sleeping with two guys at once – especially when the guy I was with knew exactly how to make things really, really good. I might have had my hang-ups about us being together in any real sense, but that aside, I didn’t want to sleep with anyone else when I had Blake in my bed.

While he was getting dressed, I sent a quick text to Cami, letting her know I would meet her at the bar.

You know, you don’t have to shower, Blake said, coming to stand in front of me.

I made a face at him. Yes, I do. I smell like you and everything we’ve been doing for the past few hours.

He smiled coyly. I know, and it’s so damn hot.

I shook my head. It’s gross. I’m showering.

Okay, fine, he said with mock-disappointment.

Come on, I said, taking his hand. I’ll walk you out.

He laced his fingers with mine as we left my room and walked through my empty-feeling apartment. It was weird, because none of the furniture was gone. For all intents and purposes, the apartment looked pretty much like it had for the past four years, minus a few paintings, pictures, and dishware, but at the same time, it felt utterly empty.

It had been a week since my best friend Presley had moved out. She’d packed up her room, she’d let the movers in to take her stuff to the truck, and then we’d said a teary goodbye. She was gone after that, and I thought I would be fine. I’d known for a few months that she was leaving, and before she’d moved out, she’d been traveling with her boyfriend, so I hadn’t seen her much. I’d had time to mourn the fact that she was moving to California – completely across the country from me – but at the same time, it had still hit me like a punch to the gut when she actually left.

She’d been my best friend for seven years, and aside from a few weeks in the spring when we hadn’t been speaking and she’d ‘moved out’, we’d never been so far away from each other. I’d never thought of myself as dependent on other people, but as it turned out, I had become dependent on her. And now I missed her more than I was comfortable admitting.

Maybe that was why I’d been so dead-set on going to Brasserie tonight. I wanted to be around my friends, so I didn’t feel so alone. Of course, I’d never admit that to anyone. I’d never been very inclined to talk about my feelings. I much preferred to suffer in silence, so that was what I was going to do as I mourned Presley’s absence in my life.

Ironically I’d done the same thing when Blake and I had broken up almost a year earlier. That had been one of the most devastating times in my life, but I was the only one who knew that. I was also the only person, besides Blake, who knew what had been our demise. I was the only one who knew what had happened, what he’d said, and how he’d treated me. And I wanted to keep it that way.

The fact that I’d let him back into my life at all was a big enough deal. It had taken me months to come to terms with everything that had happened with us. I didn’t like to be hurt, and he’d hurt me more than I’d ever thought possible. But time had passed, I’d moved on, I’d gotten past everything, and I’d forgiven him. Then one day, out of the blue, I’d decided I missed him.

I’d seen on the news that he’d been traded to the Mets, and I don’t know exactly what made me do it, but before I truly recognized the gravity of the situation, I’d already sent him a text.

I heard you’re a Met. Does this mean you’re going to be my neighbor?

When I was in high school, I’d always had a penchant for dating athletes. They were just sexier to me, but that ended when I started at NYU and got obsessed with musicians. At the time, nothing was sexier to me than a guy who could play a guitar and sing. I dated so many of them, until I realized that dating musicians was like being in constant competition with their craft – *insert eye roll here* – and I got tired of always coming in second. It was always about their next gig, their band, the possible talent scouts that were supposedly in the audience.

And seeing as I’d been working at a record label since my junior year of college, I always wondered if the guys I dated were only with me because they thought I could get them a record deal. It was an emotionally draining way to go through life, always wondering if you were being used.

So when I met Blake Gentry, who was a catcher for the Red Sox at the time, and I could respect that he was a badass baseball player who had every right to be egotistical, he blew me away when I realized he really wasn’t. He was just a guy who loved baseball, who was excited that he got to play it for a living, and he wasn’t full of himself at all. He worked hard, he was humble, and he recognized how lucky he was that he got to take his childhood pastime into adulthood. I ate that shit up. He was exactly the kind of guy I wanted to be with, and because he lived in another city and traveled six months out of the year, I still got to live my life, with my friends and have a sexy, talented boyfriend who didn’t consider me a means to an end and simply wanted to be with me.

We were happy for a long time, but then he hurt me, and it was like my world turned upside down.

I hated him for a long time after that. I was angry that I let him get so close that he could hurt me. I was confused and a little destructive, and I honestly lost a lot of faith in the opposite sex. I dated guys who were completely wrong for me, I didn’t want to get close to anyone, and I started to wonder if relationships were just a bad idea all around.

But then I saw that Blake had been traded and knew that meant he’d be moving to New York, and it was like I had an out-of-body experience. I texted him without even thinking, and then I couldn’t take it back.

It had been almost a year since I’d last seen him, and I wondered if he’d even respond. I didn’t have to wait long to find out though. His response came within five minutes.

I bit my lip and worried for that entire five minutes, wondering if texting him had been a mistake. But then he responded, and it was like no time had passed at all. The conversation was easy, like it had always been, and it felt comfortable.

For the first few weeks we were talking again, I had a weird feeling in my stomach whenever I thought about him, almost like I knew I shouldn’t be diving back in, but it was like I couldn’t help it. He was in Florida for spring training, so I didn’t see him right away. But when he got back to New York, he came right to my apartment, and we slept together. I don’t think anything could have kept us apart. There had been so much built up sexual tension from the prior few weeks that it was inevitable. It had also been the catalyst for us to finally talk about what had torn us apart.

Blake apologized too many times to count that night, then he’d groveled, and he was so brutally honest that I shocked myself when I told him I would give him another chance. I felt like he was different, and I was different, and somehow we could get past everything. At least I hoped we could.

Over the past few months, we’d somehow managed to put our baggage behind us – for the most part – and we were moving forward, but what had happened was still something I wanted to keep just between us. Some things were sacred. Besides, it was all in the past, so hopefully we’d be able to leave it there.

As we reached my front door, Blake turned to me and took my other hand in his so all ten of my fingers were laced with his. How about you come to the game on Sunday?

I don’t know, I said hesitantly.

Come on, Sloane. You’ve only seen me play twice this season, and we’re two and a half months in.

I see you play all the time, I told him. I watch as many games on TV as I can.

That earned me a small smile from him. Well, that’s nice to know. But it would be even cooler to have you there in person. You wouldn’t even have to sit with the wives and the girlfriends, since I know you hate that. I could get you a seat wherever you want.

I don’t know. I wouldn’t have anyone to go with.

It was as good a lie as any, because it masked my real reason for not going to his games. Before when we’d been dating, I’d gone to as many as I could, but that was when I’d been his girlfriend, we’d been in love, and I’d thought we had a future. Doing that now just felt like too much too fast. I needed time to ease back into his life, to make sure he was serious about his apologies, and to make sure we were going to last. I had to do things my way, and he struggled to understand why we couldn’t just pick up where we’d left off. That was likely why I kept saying no when he asked me every other week if we could be exclusive. I didn’t want to pick back up where we left off. I wanted a fresh start, and I needed to know he could do that.

Couldn’t you go with one of your friends? he suggested.

I made a face. They’re not really baseball fans, I said, coming up with the most plausible lie to avoid the truth. Cami came with me last time, but it’s not really her thing.

Then how about Shane?

Emery’s boyfriend Shane?

Sure. He likes baseball, and he even told me he’d love to come see a game when we’re in town.

No, I said quickly. He’s Emery’s boyfriend. It would be weird.

Blake sighed. Fine, I get it, he said, sounding frustrated and not like he understood at all. You’ll still watch from home though, won’t you?

Of course, I said, pushing up on my toes to kiss him, hoping I could make his irritation with me disappear. I wouldn’t miss it. Why don’t you hit a home run for me?

Blake grinned. Sure, because that’s so easy to do.

I don’t know. You’ve already hit two this season.

This is true. Alright, I’ll try. For you.

Thank you, baby, I said as he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me, making it one for the books. God, I loved his kisses.

Have fun with your friends.

I will, and you have fun doing whatever it is you’re doing tonight, I said, since I realized I didn’t even know if he had plans.

He’d offered to take me to dinner, but I figured that had been a spur of the moment thought.

I think I’m going to go hang at Donovan’s apartment. We’ll probably just play video games or something. We’ve got to be at the field early tomorrow, so we can’t get too crazy.

Yeah, sure. And you’ve got to stay in that mid-season shape, I said as I ran my hand down his hard, chiseled chest that was sheathed in a fitted t-shirt that left very little to the imagination.

Blake smirked at me. I’ll see you Sunday. Don’t miss me too much between now and then.

I won’t, I promised, and then I kissed him one last time.

He opened the door, gave me a smile over his shoulder, and then he was gone. I closed the door behind him, and then I turned, wrapping my arms around my stomach and hugging them close to my body. The dull ache in my chest that had been present for the past year flared up again. I tried to tell myself it was because I missed Blake already, but I wasn’t so sure that was the case. If it was, the ache would have gone away when he came back into my life.

I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I just knew that nothing had felt right in a long time, and no matter what I did to try to change that, it wasn’t ever enough. I had a feeling that was the reason I hadn’t been able to commit to Blake. I just didn’t want to admit it.

My heart felt heavy as I made my way back to my room to strip off the clothes I’d put on to walk Blake out. I walked naked to the bathroom, passing Presley’s open door on my way. The room was completely empty, and I had no plans to do anything with it. I’d just renewed my lease, and I’d done it on my own, choosing to pay the full rent myself rather than moving or trying to find a new roommate. I didn’t want to do either of those things, and with the success I’d had over the past year at work, I could afford it. Maybe I’d come up with a purpose for the room in time, but for now it was just an empty reminder of my best friend’s absence.

I turned on the water in the shower as hot as I could get it, wondering if it would make me feel any better. I had no idea what was wrong with me, and for the first time in my life, I was considering making an appointment with a therapist. Maybe it would help to talk about what I’d gone through with someone who didn’t know me. At least then I wouldn’t be judged for the mistakes of my past. Although I wasn’t sure how I’d handle someone judging me for the mistakes of my present, which I had a feeling would happen.

I didn’t want to think about that though – not tonight. Tonight I was going to get dressed in a cute outfit, I’d go meet my friends, I’d have a few glasses of wine, and I’d do my best to forget about everything that was eating away at me. It was what I’d been doing for a year. It was what made the most sense to me, so it was what I’d keep doing.

Chapter Two

Sloane

I turned away from the bar, drink in hand, and surveyed the room of celebrities, their entourages, other influential people in the music industry, and the slew of people who worked at the same label that had employed me for the past five years. I’d been to dozens of these parties over the years, and back when I’d been a wide-eyed intern, who’d dreamed of taking the music industry by storm, I’d loved the idea of so many famous and talented people in one room.

I’d soaked up every second of those parties, mixing and mingling and sometimes just observing. I wanted to have a better grasp on the way everything worked – how you needed to talk to people to get them to respect you, what was acceptable conversation at a party, how much you should gush or how aloof you should be depending on the ego of the person you were talking to. There were so many unspoken rules to navigating our world, and I’d wanted to learn them all.

Now I was so used to talking to our artists that it was just another part of my day. I’d become desensitized to the importance they felt they carried, simply because they were famous and could sing or play instruments, because I knew the truth – they were just lucky that they’d been discovered. Talent was all over the world, but only a select handful of people were fortunate enough to make it big, to get their music to the masses, and to earn a living doing what they loved. And when it came to Gravity Records, in order for them to do any of those things, they usually had to get through me.

Well, me or the other three A&R Managers that the label employed. We were usually the last layer of impression that an artist had to get through, unless my boss, Chris wanted to sign off on them, but he tended to stay fairly hands-off. I liked to think he left me alone to do what I did well, seeing as I’d discovered more new talent than any of my counterparts over the past few years, but maybe he was just lazy.

Either way, I took a good amount of credit for the careers of a lot of our bands and solo artists. I knew thinking that probably made me sound egotistical and smug, but knowing good music and seeing potential in an artists was just something I was good at. I’d always had a connection to music, and I was good at recognizing what would sell. I also had a knack for convincing bands to sign with us and keeping them happy while they made their music.

In truth, our label wasn’t the best or the biggest, and Deacon Victor, the head of the label, could be a self-centered ass when he wanted to be, but it was widely known in the industry that Gravity was a place where you could find a hell of a lot of success if you were lucky enough to be asked to sign with us.

And Deacon might have been an ass, but when he believed in you, he’d fight like hell for you. He worked tirelessly, he thought of little else besides our artists, a lot of the time he was personally involved in the music they made, and he knew what was going to light the music world on fire. Of course, he also knew what would fail, so more often than not, artistic freedom was not something you got at Gravity, but if you were willing to sell your soul, you could do it with the confidence that you’d earn success, notoriety, and possibly some industry awards out of it. That was what we offered, and nine times out of ten, the artists we signed were okay with it.

I’d always been grateful that Deacon had believed in me, because I knew I wouldn’t be where I was today with any other label. And in the past few years, finding a home at Gravity had become more and more coveted. It was a place plenty of people wanted to work, but so few ever got the chance.

Of course, things hadn’t always been that way. In fact, when I’d been applying for summer internships during my sophomore year of college, Gravity Records had barely been on the map. But I’d applied to a lot of labels that weren’t well-known, because I didn’t want to miss out on any potential opportunities. I sent my resume to as many of them as I could in the hopes that one might think I was qualified to get coffee, make copies, and do other mindless work so the real employees could focus on what mattered. As the school year was ending, I’d only gotten offers from three labels – two well-known ones in L.A., and Gravity, which was an upstart label in Soho, a handful of blocks south of my apartment.

In the end, I picked Gravity, but not because I saw something amazing in what Deacon was trying to build. Hell, I didn’t even get to meet him until halfway through the summer, and at the time, the label didn’t have a lot of notoriety or clients. But, it was in New York, and I could work there and live in my apartment, which had a lot of appeal to me considering the internship was unpaid. My Dad was paying my rent, my bills and my expenses while I was in school, but he’d been very upfront with me that he couldn’t afford to pay for my apartment in New York as well as a sublet in L.A. If I chose L.A., I’d have to foot the bill on my own, which would have meant working nights as a waitress to be able to live out there for three months. And I didn’t have a car. It was problematic all the way around, so in the end, I chose the start-up and hoped for the best.

Luckily, it was one of the best decisions of my life. Because the company was so small at the time, I got to do way more than get coffee and make copies. I got to observe music being made, sit in on artist negotiations, and I got to shadow one of the A&R Reps who was responsible for finding new talent. She wasn’t very good at her job, so they didn’t sign many bands that summer, but I got to go to so many live shows for free. I was in heaven.

And apparently I did something right, because they offered me a job as a part-time assistant at the end of the summer. That was when I started working directly for Deacon, and I continued to work for him until I graduated from NYU two years later. My responsibilities increased over time, and I learned more than I could have bargained for, so when it was time to figure out what I wanted to do in the real world, there wasn’t even a question. Deacon made it clear that a position was waiting for me. He wanted me as an A&R Rep, and he was willing to pay me handsomely. Four years later, after several raises, and one big promotion to A&R Manager, I still loved what I did, and I never wanted to leave.

Of course there were parts of my job that I loved a little less than the others, and these parties were one of them. I’d arrived late on purpose, and I’d headed straight for the bar, planning to have a few drinks before I had to start mingling. It was required, even more so now that I was in a managerial role and supported more artists, so I’d do it, but I wasn’t going to be happy about it.

Having fun, ice queen? I heard to my left, but I didn’t look over. I just took a long sip of my double-vodka soda and lime and kept my gaze focused on the party happening in front of me.

Deacon nudged me in the shoulder, forcing me to look over at the big smile on his face.

Don’t call me that, I snapped, hating the nickname he’d given me years’ earlier because he thought it was fantastic that I didn’t take shit from anyone.

He’d told me early on that he loved that about me, and somehow that love had manifested itself into something more than just the boss/employee, mentor/mentee relationship we could have had. In a cutthroat industry, he was one of the few people I trusted, because I knew he’d never let me down. He was an asshole to everyone else, but he treated me like a friend – probably because he liked the fact that I could be a relentless bitch and didn’t care what people thought of me. But regardless of the reason, I knew he was in my corner.

When I worked as his assistant, I got to know a side of him