Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Ms. Stewart is at the gate.”
“Well, for fuck’s sake, let her in,” Malcolm bellows as Gina jumps and bites her lower lip, nodding as she types on her phone.
“Sorry, I just wanted to check…with everything that’s happening—”
“It’s fine, Gina, thank you. You’re doing a great job,” I cut Malcolm off, who sometimes has a tendency to be a dick to the help, and this is not Gina’s fault.
“Thanks, Court.” Her voice is barely heard as the door swings open and Rachel Stewart, my PR woman, sashays in.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Malcolm snarls, turning all his frustration on her, which is good because if anyone can take it, it’s Rachel. She’s, without a doubt, the best in the business. I hired her when I found out about the affair with Roxy and Johnny. But subconsciously it probably was really to help me transition from Broken Vixens to going solo. And since then she’s become kind of a security blanket for me.
“Oh, Malcolm. Relax. Mommy’s here to make all this go away.” Rachel takes off her black Chanel glasses, rolling her eyes at him as she breezes past, not stopping until she’s right in front of me. Not gonna lie, just having her here makes me feel like I can breathe a little easier. If anyone can spin this horror show in my favor, it’ll be Rachel.
“Bite me, Rachel.” Malcolm brings the bottle of Jack Daniel’s to his lips.
“Not now.” She purrs over her shoulder as she tosses her purse onto my couch, her eyes scanning my face.
“Stop crying, Courtney.” Her voice is verging on harsh, almost mean, but it makes me straighten my shoulders back as I clear my throat.
“I need you to get me out of any appearances or interviews. I refuse to talk about them or Broken Vixens,” I say to her as Malcolm curses behind me.
“Already done.” She spins to look over at Gina, who looks around the room like she’s trying to map out the fastest exit. “You.” She points a long, sharp red nail at her. “Fetch Courtney and me two Belvedere martinis.”
Gina just stares, and I’m about to say please when Rachel snaps, “Now,” causing her to bolt.
Great. Between Malcolm and Rachel, she’s probably going to quit, and I like Gina, for the most part. She’s been with me for a couple of years. She’s in her late twenties, no kids or boyfriend that I know about, and so far, hasn’t broken her NDA and leaked anything to the press.
“God, you’re a cunt.” Malcolm stares at her as she arches a waxed brow and smiles at him, then sits on my couch, patting the space next to her.
“From you, I consider that a compliment.” She snorts.
It’s no secret there’s no love lost between these two. Malcolm despises her, and continually warns me not to trust her. But Rachel is competent, ruthless, and full-on savage. She’s the ultimate bad cop, and to be honest, she has held my hand and navigated me through this entire nightmare. We need her. I need her.
“Now. Here’s what we’re going to do—”
“Shut up, Rachel. I’m Courtney’s manager. I run the show, not you. I have her next move in place,” Malcolm growls as he reaches for his pack of cigarettes.
Rachel cocks her head and crosses her legs as she runs her fingers through her black bob as she dramatically waits.
“Really? Enlighten us?” Her eyes narrow as he lights up and walks over to us.
“Courtney needs a new sound, vibe, everything. She needs someone who can transform her lyrics and make them gold. Now, I have the man, he’s a fucking legend. But, Court, you’ll need to trust him…can you do that?” He inhales as he looks at me, and for the first time in years my whole body seems alive. If Malcolm is saying this, this man has got to be the shit. Malcolm rarely thinks anyone is good, much less a legend.
“He’ll fucking take you to the next level, Court. This crap with Roxy and Johnny will be laughable and forgotten about as quickly as it started.” He drops down onto the couch across from us and my stomach flips as adrenaline floods me.
“This is the first time you’ve ever mentioned bringing someone else in to produce my next album. Are you sure?” I reach over for the bottle of Jack on the table.
“Trust me, if he says yes, your life is never going to be the same.” He smirks as I stare at him, barely noticing that my hand is shaking as I bring the bottle to my lips.
Rachel’s eyes narrow as she looks at me, then Malcolm, the sound of the helicopter fading as it circles to the back side of the property.
“Well?” Rachel recrosses her legs. “Who is this god of a man you speak of?”