Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Your car was impounded from an executive lot yesterday,” Charlie deadpanned. “Parking in unauthorized spaces is technically illegal.”
“Hey, I paid for it! And how’d you know about that anyway?” I grumbled.
“I did my homework on you. It took less than twenty minutes to crack the code on your life story.”
“Wait. You researched me ’cause I slept with your dad?”
“Stop. Please.” Charlie wrinkled his nose. “That’s not why. Not exactly, anyway. Look, he’s a very high-profile executive. I love him and I respect his accomplishments. However, he’s small beans compared to my client.”
“The Gray guy?”
“No. Gray’s fiancé, Justin Cuevas. Jus is the lead singer for Zero. You’ve heard of them?”
Of course, that was a rhetorical question. I was pretty sure everyone on the planet had heard of Zero. It was like asking if I knew any of the Rolling Stones’ music.
And yes, Seb had told me about them last night. He hadn’t mentioned the wedding part, though. Huh.
“Let me get this straight—your dad’s ex is marrying a famous rock star.”
“Yes, but Gray is my dad too. Long story. Google it if you’re interested,” he replied flippantly. “On a personal note, my dads come first for me. But professionally, I have to protect Justin, the rest of the band, and my record label. I can’t take any chances on any loose ends. Dad made you a loose end when you were seen at a bar with him.”
I couldn’t tell if I was having a hard time keeping up or if this was a little nuts.
Definitely nuts.
“That’s…bonkers.”
“I know. It really is a weird world, isn’t it? And I know this sounds way over-the-top, but I’ve learned the hard way that I can’t control messaging I don’t have access to. Call me.” Charlie gestured to the business card in my hand, then moved to the door. “Tomorrow if possible. It always takes longer than you’d think to get a new employee set up with HR.”
“Hang on.” I spared Macy a quick “one more minute” look before grasping Charlie’s shoulder and pulling him aside. “I have a couple more questions. What’s to stop me from singing like a canary right now? I could go on social media and tell everyone I’m being bribed to keep quiet about a one-night stand or I could just call your dad. I’m sure he wouldn’t approve of this.”
My menacing tone didn’t work. At all. Neither did my intimidating, “in-your-face” posture.
“Au contraire! He’ll love this idea.” Charlie preened. “I can’t wait to tell him.”
“What?”
Who were these people?
“As for social media, your fifty-two followers won’t care, will they? It’s a preventative measure…not a real story.” He clasped his hands together and sidestepped around me. “It was good to see you again. Wish I had time to finish that margarita. It was marvelous. Give my compliments to the bartender. Au revoir!”
He was gone in a blur.
And I felt like I’d been run over by a small truck with a big engine.
“What was that all about?” Macy asked, sidling next to me.
I shook my head in a daze. “I honestly don’t know how to explain it. But if that was any indication of some grand adventure, your cards suck.”
She bumped my arm companionably. “C’mon, big guy. We’ve got hungry folks to serve. Tell me about it later.”
Not gonna happen.
Remember, I hadn’t planned on telling anyone about last night. That was supposed to be mine. And I resented the hell out of reality surfacing in the form of a pint-sized bulldozer who had the gall to fuck with something I’d thought was special.
That was what I got for being a damn idiot.
Well, fuck that and fuck Seb Rourke. If I was going to sacrifice six months of my career—the way I did every time I took a lame-ass gig with less than ten minutes of screen time and no lines—I’d do it on my terms.
I stewed in an indignant, cranky mood, faking smiles through the longest shift of my life while dodging my coworkers’ curious glances and Macy’s offer to give me a proper tarot reading. I was fired up and pissed off, but a good night’s sleep gave me a fresh perspective. Show-biz people were a little crazy. And behind-the-scenes guys like Seb and Charlie were puppet masters, orchestrating situations to work to their advantage.
Maybe his visit was an attempt to try to read me and see if I was going to cause trouble somewhere down the line. I wasn’t. But I also wasn’t an idiot. Charlie might have handed over a bargaining tool to upgrade my silent security guard role into a speaking part.
I lathered soap in the shower, daydreaming of possible lines. What did the average security guard say? Would I be a tough guy security dude or a teddy bear? If this were a young adult show featuring entitled rich brats, I bet they’d relegate me to daily greetings. “Good morning, Mr. Schafer,” or “Good evening, Ms. Reyes.” Mmm. That would get old fast.