Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I glanced at the puffy clouds as I reached for the soap before turning to Seb. His silence was nice, but kind of disturbing too. He had one of those wickedly brilliant minds. And he didn’t understand the meaning of the word “no.” He took it as a mild suggestion or an outright challenge. I mentally prepared my rebuttal even though I didn’t really know how he’d convince me that writing a few forgettable songs for an action flick would be in my best interest. No doubt, he’d think of something.
“Get the boyfriend to write ’em,” he said in a faraway tone that indicated his brain was whirling at warp speed.
“What boyfriend?”
“Xena’s ex—aka, the guy you fucked last night. Was he here?” he asked, setting his hands on his hips as he looked around the bathroom.
“No, he wasn’t here and—”
“So I was right!” Seb clapped and let out a whoop that didn’t quite seem to fit the situation. “It was the guitarist. You know, he wasn’t that great on the guitar, but I loved his voice.”
“Okay, well I’m gonna go ahead and finish up here. Feel free to mosey downstairs and grab some coffee on your way out.” I moved under the spray and closed my eyes. When he didn’t move or speak for a full minute, I opened them again and reached for the soap. “You’re creeping me out. Why are you still here?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Oh. That’s bad.”
“No. It’s good.” He snapped his fingers and paced to the doorway and back. “I’ve got it! You write the music and get him to write the words. Xena said he wrote all the songs for their band. Get him to collaborate with you on one or two songs. Like the love song.”
I barked a quick laugh and shook my head. “He wouldn’t do it.”
“Of course he would. He’s a struggling artist. He’d make fucking bank and get the chance of a lifetime to work with a Grammy-winning composer and songwriter. What’s the downside?” He furrowed his brow and then pointed his finger at me. “Don’t even think about flicking water at me. I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes.”
“Then you better get going.”
“Not until you tell me you’ll talk to him.”
“Seb, there are a lot of talented singers, songwriters, and composers who would happily jump through all the Hollywood hoops for you. Why are you fixating on these two?”
“ ’Cause they’re real and fresh and new. And their story complements the movie very nicely. Check this out.” He splayed his hands wide and went into Hollywood dream spinner mode. “Baxter’s busting up a drug ring in LA, meets a gorgeous punk chick whose brother runs the cartel. He suspects her ex might be involved too and guess what?”
“The ex just happens to be the guitarist in her band,” I replied, flicking water at him. I chuckled when he hopped backward like he’d been stung, then turned off the faucet and reached for my towel. “Really?”
“That’s the story. I shit you not. How crazy perfect would these two fit in? Not as actors, but as a side note that draws in the curious crowd that likes to wait till the movie comes to Netflix.”
“So this is a publicity scheme.”
Seb shot a wounded look at me. “It sounds so dirty when you put it like that. I prefer the term ‘interest-added incentive,’ ” he said with a wide grin. “Everybody wins. Two nobodies get a chance of a lifetime to launch their careers, my movie crushes the box office, and you get musical creative license and make a fuckton of money for your effort.”
“I’m not messing with their private lives. Neither of us can guarantee them fame or fortune. And I don’t know about Xena, but Justin didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d get excited about a Hollywood movie. He’s an indie artist, a nonconformist. He wants to make his mark his own way.”
“Oh brother,” he scoffed. “Trust me on this one, Gray. Hippy virtuosos change their tunes when a recording contract falls out of the sky. Ask him.”
“No.”
We engaged in an intense standoff, sizing each other up in a heated way that once upon a time had led to hot, angry sex. Wrestling for dominance, careening against walls before tumbling into bed and fucking like mad. Those days were long gone, but Seb still had an uncanny ability to get under my skin.
“Fine. I’ll ask him myself,” he huffed.
“Fine. You do that. But leave me out of it.” I gave him a sharp look before drying myself off and wrapping the towel around my waist. “Why are you staring at me?”
“You really like him.” Seb cocked his head thoughtfully. “You always push people away when you like them. Odd habit and not a good one. If someone is special, you gotta let them know how you feel so—”