“I’m sorry,” he continues. “But who I sign with, who I choose to represent my interests, is my business. My decision. Like every other meeting you’ve dragged me out to this week, this one will be completed. Miss Bucco has my permission to finish her pitch. And we will listen. All of us.”
Mrs. Carlson’s eyes bulge and her jaw twitches, but all Ray does is cross his arms over his inflated chest and turn a sympathetic gaze back on me.
“Are you alright?” he asks in a low murmur. “You’re about the color of a beet.”
I clear my throat and push back from the table. Then I smooth my skirt, turn on my too-tall heel and march toward the door.
Ronnie places a glass on the counter in front of me. It’s filled a quarter way with the soothing amber fluid I’ve been craving since the minute I stepped out of that meeting.
I stare at it, then back at her, an eyebrow raised.
She laughs, unscrews the top the tops it off. Her eyes expectantly flick back up to me several times before she finally gives her head a shake and stops pouring.
“I’m not getting you drunk, Syd. That’s no way to deal with disappointment. Besides this isn’t even my liquor.”
“I don’t think the great Justice will miss one bottle.” I bring the glass to my lips and take a nice healthy gulp.
“Not the point.”
“I know.” I wrinkle my nose and nod toward the fridge. “It’s just your little wine coolers won’t do anything for the stink I feel right now. I totally fucked that pitch up. It was my last chance and that woman saw right through me. There’s not a damn thing I can do now but lick my wounds and plan my funeral.”
Ronnie pulls her pouf of curls into a bun at the top of her head and slinks into the stool across from me. She pours herself a small glass of Marker’s 46 and props her elbows on the table, swishing it around as she watches me.
“You should have seen the way that woman looked at me. She was…it was brutal. I mean Ray seems nice. He is nice. A perfect gentleman and all that. I had him too. I could tell he was loyal to Reese but his mother—”
“Aunt.”
“What?”
“She’s his aunt. It’s a long story.”
“Oh…kay.” I flatten my palm against my forehead. “Oh my god. I’m such an idiot. Wait, but he called her Mom. How did I not know this? Reese never said—but then I never asked. No wonder she hated me so much. I am a fraud. She’s his aunt?”
Ronnie licks her plump lips and nods. “She adopted him when he was just a baby. Like two or three or something.”
“Oh, my god.” I close my eyes wishing I could turn back time a few hours. And do some fucking research.
The only the thing I looked at was his professional file. All the games he played, points he scored. I didn’t think his personal life even mattered at this point.
“It’s okay,” she smiles. “Honest mistake. A lot of people make it. Especially because he looks so much like her. But Reese doesn’t expect this, you know? She doesn’t need you to swoop in and make things right.”
I rub my eyes. “I know, Ron but—”
“But nothing. She doesn’t assume other people will clean up her messes. Especially you, Syd. She loves you like a sister. Do you really think she’ll be upset with you if you don’t save the day? Besides, she’s Reese Clarke. She’s going to wake up, like, tomorrow and railroad all these idiots who are trying to take her down. Because she’s that fierce and that respected. Do you really thing she’s going to let Baldwin & Mahr ruin her career? She’s been in this business since she was your age. One little accident isn’t going to destroy Reese Clarke.”
“Little?” My voice cracks and I clear my throat. “She’s got three broken ribs and she’s been in a comma for a month. What if she doesn’t—” I suck in a breath and grip my glass between both hands. “It’s been a whole month.” I blink and pull in a deep breath through my nose. “I thought she’d wake up by now.”
Ronnie reaches across the counter and takes one of my hands. “I miss her too. And there are days when I’m scared as hell my best friend won’t come back to me. Then I remember how well I know her and how much of a fighter she is. And how nothing gets in her way. Ever. Not even getting run over by a goddamn car. Reese is going to be okay. You’re a lot like her that way.”
I suck on my bottom lip, the bittersweet bourbon residue reminding me of why I’m even here in here in the first place.
I sigh and stare back into Ronnie’s deep brown eyes. “I’m nothing like her. I’m a failure at pretty much everything I do. I tried to become a police officer and they rejected me. My ex-boyfriend cheated on me and even though that was like two years ago, I’ve never really gotten over it. He was the only person I had after…everything. Coming here to Seattle was supposed to be a fresh start. I thought I could make it as a private investigator but I’ve had, like, hardly any clients. If it wasn’t for Reese I’d probably be homeless. I’m doing this for her, but I’m also doing it for me. If Reese goes down, I go down with her. But what’s worse is if Reese goes down it’ll be my fault because I couldn’t even manage to hold things together for a few weeks. The one person who she was confident was a sure thing is ready to run in the other direction. Like I said, everything I touch turns to shit.”
“You’re not a failure, Syd. You moved all the way across the country on your own. And who gives a flying-fuck if the police force rejected you? You applied. You prepared yourself for one of the toughest tests out there—that’s a test in itself. You never wanted to be a police officer anyway. You want to be a P.I. and you are. How is that failing? You were born to be a private investigator just like Reese was born to be the world’s best sports agent, like I was created exclusively for the pleasure of throwing the best parties in Seattle.” She takes a small sip of her drink as I swill down another mouthful.
She’s right. Trying to become a police officer was something I did to honor my dad. And as a stepping-stone to my biggest dream. Even though my client roster is nanoscale in comparison to Reese’s, I’m still helping people—and getting paid for it. I’m not a complete failure.
Unless you count saving my cousin’s career.
“Look,” Ronnie continues. “Why don’t you come to the party tonight?”
“Justice’s party?”
“Sure. I can get you in. Joe always tells me I can invite as many friends as want. Of course the only person I’d take to one of these things is Reese. Although she’d already be invited, no doubt.”
I laugh. “You want me to show up to some rapper’s exclusive party. Models, athletes, pretty much every celebratory figure within throwing distance? Not exactly my style, Ron. I think I’ll just sit at home and drink dirty beer. It’s all I can afford these days anyhow.”
Ronnie rolls her eyes. “It’s just Joe. I’ve known him since we were ten. Trust me, underneath all the tattoos and the trash he calls his girlfriend, he’s just a guy. A really good guy. And his parties are usually fun. You want a chance to fix things with StingRay, don’t you?”
“He’s going to be there?”
“Probably. He’s on the guest list. Like you said, every celebrity in Washington and beyond is invited. He may not have been signed with a team let alone an agent, but Ray Carlson is most definitely a star. Everyone wants a piece of him. Including Joe. He’s talking about trying to get him in one of his next videos. Probably going to try to tempt him with expensive drinks and a few models.”
I laugh. “Does he even know Ray Carlson? I’m not exactly sure that’ll fly.”
“Exactly. You’ve got the inside scoop. You know just how sweet and wholesome he is. So while all the vultures are trying to get him drunk and the pretty girls are trying to get in his pants, you can take his mind to a more comfortable place. Talk sports or whatever. Win him over on your turf.”
I chew on my thumbnail. The Rainier isn’t exactly my turf. It’s not even close. I could barely find something to wear to a pitch. Now I’m expected to show up at a rappe
r’s birthday party? With just hours notice? I can’t slum it. Ronnie wouldn’t let me. And I don’t have any money. Just my rent and I may be desperate but I’m not stupid.
“We’ll stop at Reese’s. You can grab something cute from her closet. I’ll help you with hair and makeup. You’ll fit right in. Don’t worry.” She drops her barely touched drink in front of her and jumps to her feet, grabbing her bag from the table by the door. “Come on. We’ve only got a few hours and I know how picky you can be.”
Even though I want to say no. Just throw in the towel and call it what it is, I find myself too curious to form the words. Maybe going to an uber exclusive party is exactly what I need. The chances of signing StingRay Carlson may still be slim to none but at least I’ll have a little bit of fun trying.
CHAPTER TWO
Ray
I lean my head back against the rest and stare through the sunroof up at the stars. I’m not in the partying mood—especially one of these things. I hate these things. They’re full of showy, extra-special people who expect the world to love them. And within the last few months I’ve realized I’m expected to become one of those people.
I’ve never been much of a partier, considering the way I grew up and all. With a preacher father and a strict mother I pretty much always had my toe on the line. Even in college I spent most of the time in my dorm. But, weighing my options, spending the night rubbing elbows with the elite, is better than listening to my aunt bitch about my career any day.
The worst part about all of this is that she was on board with Reese Clarke. It took some convincing but after she got to know the woman she came to see just how valuable of an asset she was. And more importantly how much she actually cares about my well being.
Then the accident happened and all my plans went straight to hell. Aunt Sheila started taking Willie Mahr’s calls and Miss Clarke was out of the picture. It doesn’t seem right and not only because she’s not around to defend herself, but because I know for a fact that a few short years ago, Mahr didn’t believe I was capable of half of the plays I pulled off in college. Now here I am, the number one pick and all of a sudden he believes in me. Miss Clarke always believed in me. Even when I didn’t believe in my damn self. Even when Mom told me it was a waste of time to aspire to be an entertainer. That I should become a lawyer or a doctor. Or even a pharmacist like my mother. But Miss Clarke knew I was destined for something big. Which is why ignoring the memory of her encouragement and signing with another agent while she’s stuck in a hospital bed seems so wrong.
My phone chimes and I reach over to the passenger’s seat to scoop it up.
Where are you, man? You’re killing me.
Another reason I showed up to this thing—my roommate and long-time teammate, Jimmy. We played together in high school and were lucky enough to both end up on the college team. After a seven-year friendship, me about to be drafted and him about to take off to California for a new job, I’ve decided it’s better to spend as much time with him as possible. Even if it means agreeing to do something I’d rather not.
Just parking. I respond. See you in a few.
Well hurry up, molasses. If I have to watch another chick in a tight-ass skirt walk by me and through that door I’m gonna scream.
I tuck my phone in the pocket of my blazer and let out a heavy sigh. It’s going to be long night, especially with that guy. Jimmy’s like my brother. The only guy other than my dad that I can relate to in anyway. The only one who really knows me and the only one whose mission in life is to break me out of my so-called shell—the one I apparently clam up in, keeping all the women at bay. And tonight he plans to accomplish that mission. A challenge he expects me to either get on board with or finally admit the intense feelings I have for him.
I laugh, shaking my head as I throw the door open. The thing Jimmy doesn’t realize is that as well as he knows me, he has no idea what kind of woman I need in my life. I don’t have a problems talking to girls. I never have. I’ve also enjoyed the occasional make-out session and a hook-up in college that still blows my mind. But that’s not what I want.
I’m not interested in the girl who will throw herself at me just because of how I look. Or offer herself up on a platter because she’d do anything for a football player. I don’t even want the type who plays hard to get until you finally get it and she’s suddenly the one you can imagine playing the lead role in Misery (Jimmy’s words, not mine).
The kind of girl I need probably doesn’t even exist. Because someone who’s beautiful, funny, smart, tough and brazen enough to put me in my place once in a while, would probably find the fact that I consider that attractive a complete turn-off. Girls these days seem to want men who run the show and that’s just not me, I couldn’t even play that part if I tried. Yep, I’m the proverbial nice guy. The one girls run from the second they smell any sign of weakness. And I’ve got a lot of those—weaknesses. Too many to count.
I shove my hands in my pockets and meander toward The Rainier. I’m a lot of things, but definitely not a private club kind of guy. I don’t even appreciate the idea of someone else taking the keys to my car. They’re much safer in my back pocket.
Jimmy is shifting back and forth on his feet in front of the oversized gingerbread house. The brick building towers above him and before me practically taunting me.
“Don’t look so ill.” Jimmy slaps me on the back. “This going to be…” He scoffs a laugh and pats me hard on the back again. “I will love you forever after tonight, my man. Forever.”
“Let’s just get this over with.”
The inside is everything I could expect of a rapper’s private birthday party. Well, not everything, if I’m being truthful. There are tables at every corner, overflowing with drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Servers at every turn, all dressed in black and red. Music pumping. But as far as the guests are concerned, I actually didn’t expect it to be this tame. I’d imagined something out of a music video.
But from the penguin suits to the elegant floor-dusting gowns, it kind of feels like I just walked into the opera. And if it weren’t for the sounds of Justice himself coming through the speakers, I might actually believe I did.
A woman in a red tie and black dress so tight it looks painted on holds a tray of wine glasses in front of us. I refuse while Jimmy picks up two.
“Starting early?” I ask.
He grins and holds up one of the glasses. “The first woman I see with empty hands is getting this in one and me on the opposite arm.”
“Ambitious.”
“Realistic. This kind of party is designed for just that kind of thing. Why do you think there’s no plus-one? You’re supposed to find her here.”
“Aren’t you my plus one?” I ask with a laugh.
Jimmy narrows his eyes, the golden hue darkening slightly. “Whatever man.”
I nudge him as we make our way inside. The moment we do it begins. The wider than necessary smiles, the pats on the back from total strangers. And that look from just about every girl I dare to make eye contact with. The bitten bottom lip, fluttering eyelashes, winks, and even a few arm grazes.
I eye a dark corner and quickly note it as my hang out spot for the night. But just as we’re about to make our way to the back of the room, a redhead appears from out of nowhere. She sashays toward me, her green eyes studying my every move. Jimmy mumbles something under his breath and for reasons I can’t explain my legs stop moving.
It’s almost like there’s a spotlight on her, like every move she makes is foreshadowed by the one before and accentuated by the one that follows. Her ample chest spills out of the low neck of her tight dress and with every step I actually find it hard to look away. Before I know it, she’s standing beside me. The woman slides an arm around my waist and a hand on my chest. Except for matching jewelry, lips, fingernails and a hint of lace barely covering what I still can’t avoid glancing at every few seconds, she’s clad in black. A dress that slits so high up the side I can see her curve of her ass.
>
“Welcome to the party.”
Her crimson stained lips press against my cheek and I clear my throat, doing my best to maintain eye contact.
“Uh, thanks.”
“I’m Dina.”
“Nice to meet you, Dina.”
“I’m so happy you made it out tonight, StingRay Carlson. Rumor has it you’re a little bit of a party-pooper but, I don’t know…” Her gaze trails across the length of my body. “I find it very hard to believe you could do anything but brighten things up. Especially with those eyes…” She bites her lip. “And that smile.”
Jimmy shifts on his feet beside me and I take the opportunity to detangle myself from her grip. “This is my best friend, James Tripper. He played at UDub with me.”
“Right.” Dina smiles lightly in Jimmy’s direction. Her gaze lingers on him for a short moment before she nods to one of several girls who have suddenly popped up like seagulls at a picnic. “James, this is Cindy. Cindy, show him a good time will you? I’d like to get to know his best bud just a little bit better. Something tells me I won’t get many chances to do that if I leave him alone too long.”
Jimmy doesn’t waste anytime handing the petite blond the extra glass of pinot. She takes it then his arm and, before I can protest or convince him to at least stick around to save me from what I’m sure is going to be sheer hell, they’re off into the dark corner that was supposed to be my refuge.
“So,” Dina says in a husky voice, her breath brushing across my cheek. Her hands are on me again. “Why don’t you come sit with us?”
I nod and follow along, cursing Jimmy all the way.
After coming to the frustrating conclusion that they won’t be serving beer, I find myself sipping on a glass of champagne an hour later. In a back room full of those who seem to be having an entirely separate party, Dina introduces me to several people I’ve either never heard of or have never heard of me. But it doesn’t seem to matter. They’re still all smiling, laughing and doing their best to include me in conversation that has me totally lost.
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