Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Knox will swear until he is blue in the face that blonde artists outsell dark-haired artists three to one. I don’t know where he gets his statistics from, but since his claim was at the end of a long day, I nodded like I believed him and bookmarked our argument for another day.
I’ve not yet had the strength to bring it up again, and I’m glad I didn’t waste my breath.
A disguise is pointless when everyone knows your name.
“What’s the point?” I say to Bonnie, my voice as low as my shoulders.
My question is rhetorical, but Bonnie doesn’t know that. “The point is, you’ve always wanted to do this on your own.” I almost pfft until she shocks me into silence. “And let’s not forget that every person here today signed a contract with an ironclad NDA bulking up half the dossier.” I want to squeeze her to death when she clicks her fingers while saying, “So they can hype themselves up all they like, but the instant they leave this studio, their mouths will need to be as glued shut as their legs if they don’t want to be slapped with a lawsuit.” Her legs reference is lost on me until she mumbles under her breath while packing away her supplies. “Although I wouldn't blame them if they wanted to break the contract for him.” Her eyes sling to the left. “He is as delicious as a root beer float with extra whipped cream during a scorching-hot Fourth of July alcohol-free barbecue.”
When I follow the direction of her lusty gaze, my throat dries. Laken is loitering outside my dressing room with his thick arms crossed and his brows pulled together, looking bored.
He isn’t there by choice. Knox stationed him there in case the media mixed up the rehearsal date schedule. Excluding the two dancers from earlier, no one has stalked these halls seeking anyone of interest. Even Bonnie was in my dressing room when I arrived.
I snap my eyes away from Laken before I can work out why I still want to kiss away the crease in his forehead when Bonnie whispers, “I bet his lips taste like sin and a hint of whiskey.”
“They’re more sweet than tangy.”
If Bonnie’s mouth gapes any more, she’ll ruin her perfectly symmetrical lined lips. “Say what now?”
Eyes wide that I spoke my statement out loud, I snatch up my wig like it doesn’t need a hundred bobby pins to keep it in place before joining Knox in the hallway.
Bonnie’s playful tone jingles down the hall faster than Laken’s sigh when Knox’s hand lands in the middle of my back. “You can run, sweetheart, but I know the perfect shade of lipstick for your alabaster skin, so you won’t stay away for long.”
13
LAKEN
“You killed it tonight. They couldn’t get enough,” Knox lies while guiding Nicole into the elevator of an opulent hotel smack bang in the middle of Hollywood, his hand still hovering and driving me insane.
“Are you sure?” Nicole asks, her tone not as confident as the steps she uses to force a gap between them. “Because they looked a little… shocked.”
“It is the first time anyone has heard these songs. Everyone acts differently when they can’t sing along with you. You watch. They’ll be singing over you during tomorrow’s rehearsal.”
When Knox slings his eyes to me, seeking backup, I leave the lying to him by waving a room keycard over the panel and selecting the penthouse suite. I can’t tuck Nicole in like I did last night, but can I call myself a bodyguard if I don’t get my mark to her hotel room safely?
As Knox continues telling Nicole how she “rocked the socks off her performance,” I think back to the number of times I cringed while watching her bump and grind across the polished dance floor with two dozen fluro-boosting backup dancers.
It was bad.
Bad bad.
I’d feel like an ass saying that if it weren’t true, but there isn’t a better word in the dictionary to describe her performance.
Nicole’s voice could captivate anyone, but the lyrics were off, and whoever composed the music should be shot.
They took what should have been a love ballad and tried to jazz it up—jazz hands included.
While removing the fishnet gloves that match the stockings covering her scrumptious legs, Nicole says, “Maybe we should invite some spectators to the next couple of rehearsals? That way, we can get proper feedback before real-time shows.”
Knox tries to shut down her suggestion, but when Nicole reminds him of his forever bias, the truth can no longer be denied.
I fucked my best friend’s girl one floor above the room they shared.
I’m a fucking dog.
“You must be conscious of your bias to make ethical commentaries.” I don’t need to look at them to know they’re flirting. Knox’s laugh gives it away when Nicole says, “And you, my friend, will never be alert to that.” He only ever uses that laugh on the girls he wants to bed.