𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

His fingertips pull on the bus door, a soft groan leaving his lips as he moves for the liquor cabinet. He reaches for a bottle of amber liquid before swinging towards the direction of the couch. His heart nearly stops when he's greeted by a familiar brunette. She's looking at him with such intensity that Ezra cannot tell if she's real or not. Perhaps he's hallucinating.

"Are you really gonna stand there and say nothing?" She spits, and Ezra's grip on the bottle loosens. It slips from his grasp and falls to the carpeted floor. Thankfully, it doesn't shatter and, instead, rolls underneath a chair.

"Madison," he breathes, voice hoarse and withered.

"Keep going," she demands, arms crossed over her chest.

"What ... what are you doing here?" His attention falls to the stack of papers placed on the table beside her, which he only assumes is the contract she hasn't signed.

"You know what I'm doing here," she insists, "Try harder."

"You flew out all this way to see me beg for you to sign that damn thing," he adds exasperatedly while pointing to the papers, feet unwilling to bring himself any closer to her.

"I happened to be in town for promos," she explains, but Ezra isn't stupid enough to believe her. "The album releases tomorrow."

"Right," he croaks, "So, why don't you just tell me what you want me to say so you can sign and get the fuck out of my bus?"

"I don't want you to say anything, Ezra," she assures with a snicker, "I just want to understand what kind of fool you think I am. More importantly, what kind of fool you think this new girl of yours is, too."

"There's no girl," he lies, "Don't tell me you believe everything TMZ posts."

"When it comes to you, I do."

"So, that's what this is about? You're jealous that I went out in public with some girl. What's so special about this one, huh? Were the other ones not that threatening to you?"

"Don't make me laugh," she warns, "I don't feel threatened by any of your whores. I'm the one you sing about, I'm the one you need to think about to get off."

"Are you that fucking desperate?" He questions with a dry laugh and disappointed shake of his head.

"I'm just repeating what you've told me," she mocks.

"Addicts are compulsive liars," he corrects, "You should know better to believe anything I say."

"Does she know that?" Madison questions with a raise of her brow, "Or have you been able to hide that nasty habit of yours well enough for her to pretend it doesn't exist?"

"I'm doing a lot better, actually. I know you were worried sick about me," he retorts.

"I've spent enough of my time worrying about you," she assures, "But eventually I came to terms with the fact that you will never get clean."

"That's quite the pep talk," he laughs before his tone grows serious, "Now, sign the fucking papers."

"Not until you admit that the only reason you want me to is so that you can hide what happened from her," she demands, and Ezra can feel his stomach twist. "You didn't give a damn what I did with that voicemail until she came along."

"I had a change of heart. Turns out I don't want the entire world knowing about my overdose," he states dryly. It's the first time he's said the word outright, and something inside him crumbles.

"The only people who are going to know the weight of that voicemail are the ones who were there that night," she assures, "Your team did an excellent job covering up any trace of it. So, lie a little bit better if you want me to believe you."