Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
I smiled. “No thanks, Char.”
“Are you sure? It’s guaranteed to turn your frown upside down,” he singsonged.
“What are you talking about?”
Charlie yanked his sunglasses off and gave me a thorough once-over. My reluctant grin morphed into an actual one. Our manager had to be the most unlikely badass I’d ever met. He was five foot eight with a mop of golden curls and big bright eyes. His angelic appearance threw plenty of people off guard, but Charlie was no angel. He was a shark. No complaints here. His take-charge, never-say-never attitude had propelled two newbie bands from obscurity into the limelight.
I had nothing but respect for Charlie Rourke. However, the look in his eyes indicated he had nothing but concern for me at the moment.
“You’ve got the blues,” he said softly.
“I do?”
“Yes, you do. I can tell. You know, I’m glad you bought that house. It’s a good investment, and it’s kept you busy outside of the band.”
“Are you worried about me, or do you need something?”
“So suspicious. And perhaps a teensy bit right. I was thinking that since your remodel is almost complete, you’re about to have too much time on your hands. That can be a dangerous condition for someone who’s been on the road or in a studio for months. I don’t like the idea of you feeling mopey.”
“I’m not mopey,” I insisted. I stopped short at the sliding glass door and squinted at Charlie warily. It wasn’t like him to beat around the proverbial bush. “What are you up to?”
Charlie blinked innocently. “Nothing. I worry. It’s my job.”
“Yeah, right,” I snorted. “Spit it out, Char.”
Charlie cast an irritated sideways glance my way before pulling me into the house. A few people were parked on the sectional, watching a football game. I waved at our receptionist, Bianca, and her boyfriend, turning when Charlie blurted, “You need a new project, and I need your help.”
I widened my eyes and pointed at my chest. “Me? What do you want me to do?”
“Do you remember that holiday party at the beach? I’m pretty sure that was where you met your contractor, Wyatt Pearson.”
“Yeah…so?”
“Well, I’m thinking about doing a high-end black-and-white photo shoot to promote Scratch Records. Wyatt’s boyfriend is a photographer who works for an indie publisher that specializes in titillating coffee table books. Some of Clay’s stuff is too naughty for prime time. But he does celebrity shoots that are as sexy as can be. Want to be my point person?”
“No,” I replied quickly. “Thanks for thinking of me.”
“Wait!”
I high-fived Tegan’s sister, Maggie, and her girlfriend on my way to the kitchen. I set my empty cup on the counter and grabbed a carrot from the vegetable tray on the island, chuckling at Charlie’s irritated expression.
“Gimme a break, Char. You have assistants for that kind of shit now.”
“True, but a personal touch is better.”
I didn’t buy it. I crossed my arms over my chest and cocked my head. “What’s the point? Hiring a celebrity photographer sounds expensive.”
“Yes, it’s pricey, but Scratch Records is doing really well. You have to spend money to make money, Johnny boy,” Charlie commented. “The point is…it’ll make a great write-off. It’s early still, but I can already tell we’re set to quadruple our profits this year. We need write-offs. Someone suggested authorizing action figures, but that seems tacky.”
“Very tacky,” I agreed.
“Not to worry. I have other ideas.”
I stared unseeing out the window at the neat row of umbrellas around the pool while Charlie went on about finding innovative ways to connect with our fans. Any second now he’d snap and demand I pay attention, but it would be nice to have a beer in hand for that.
“…he’s very handsome too,” Charlie gushed.
“Who?” I held up my hand like a stop sign, then skirted the kitchen island and made a beeline to the refrigerator, pulling out a single bottle. “Never mind. I get it now. Want a beer?”
“Ew. No, thanks. Well, what do you think?”
“I think you’re trying to set me up with someone.” I fixed him with a shrewd look as I uncapped the bottle.
“Well…not necessarily. Clay might be a nice distraction…if there were sparks. If not, you can talk about his work and weigh in on whether you think this would be a fun side project for Scratch Records.”
I snorted. “Why don’t you introduce us the old-fashioned way?”
“You already met.”
“We did?”
“Yes, at that beach party a couple of months ago. You seemed to get along with him pretty well.”
“It couldn’t have been that good. I don’t remember him.”
“Well, you were a little drunk,” Charlie conceded.
“I was a lot drunk,” I corrected. “I remember meeting Wyatt, but it got fuzzy as the day went on. I gave up tequila for a whole month.”
Charlie snickered. “Glad you’re over that phase. Clay is good-looking. He’s about your height with short brown hair and dark eyes. He was wearing a sports coat with shorts. Very LA trendy. Not sure he hit the mark there, but I give him points for trying.”