“That’s not the same, and you know it.”
“Just think about it. You have two weeks.” Barbara dumped the egg mixture into a pan, letting the sizzling be the punctuation mark on their argument.
To further conclude the argument, there was another knock at the door, and Brit’s father opened it a crack. “Can I come in? It sure smells good in there.”
“Come on in, Dad!” Brit called.
“I’m so glad we still have these weekly breakfasts. Cord! You’re joining us now? Great!”
Cord shook his hand. “Not officially.”
“You should,” said Brit, and they exchanged shy but obvious smiles.
“Brit, why don’t you set the table. I’m almost done here.” Barbara shook the pan to flip the omelet without the need for a spatula.
“Nice, sis.” Brit sighed. “Sometimes I do wish I had your skills in the kitchen, but I sure am glad I get to enjoy the end results at least.”
Brit stacked her matching white ceramic plates onto her arm and pivoted to find Cord with his arms out, ready to help. She offloaded the plates onto his arms and instead dug out silverware and glasses.
Lander took his usual seat farthest away from the kitchen. “No mimosas this time?”
Cord took the seat on the short edge of the table next to Lander. “You had mimosas before? How’d I miss that one?”
“No, you drunks.” Brit rolled her eyes. “That’s reserved for special occasions.”
Barbara scooped a personalized omelet onto each plate and sat down on the other side of Lander. “Dad, I told Brit that Saffron is going to come up and visit this summer.”
“Wonderful. Don’t you think that’s good news, Brit? It will be nice to see her again.”
“Sure, Dad.” Her tone was unconvincing.
Barbara shot her dagger eyes across the table.
“I’ll make the most of it,” added Brit.
“That’s my girl. I am looking forward to all three of my girls being together.”
Lander cleared his throat. “If your sister drama is over, I do have some good news.” He scooped a heaping bite of bacon and cheese omelet into his mouth to keep the others in suspense. “You know J.J. Mack? He’s gonna be the next big thing.”
Lonnie slowly chewed his bite and took a gulp of milk before answering. “Oh yeah, that’s the young boy who’s so popular on the youtubes, right?”
“It’s YouTube, Dad.” This conversation was going far too slowly for Brit.
“Isn’t that what I said?”
“Right, right, well my news is, I just signed on to be his manager. I’m going to be representing him myself.”
“No way! You didn’t tell me that! You haven’t represented anyone yourself in years!” said Barbara.
“He’s worth it—a real visionary. He’s gonna make it to the top.” Lander pointed to the ceiling to emphasize his point.
Brit leaned on the table. “I knew you’d like him. Isn’t he great? Is he playing at the club?”
“I’m not saying all that. Yet. I want to start him off somewhere smaller first. But we’ll get there. He’s going to be here in a couple weeks to see the city. You going to show him around, Brit-nay?” He nudged Brit’s bare foot under the table with his shoe. Lander was the only one outside of blood relations who she let call her Britnee, and it was only because he pronounced it the way he did.
“I’d love to! He is so talented. I’m going to have to figure out what he’s into. He’s going to kill it in Toronto. He needs to move here.”
“Pump your brakes now. He seems pretty happy where he’s at. This is a temporary situation.”
“OK, Lander. Whatever you say.”
“Mike has been saying we could use some new blood at the club. I’ll ask him if he’s heard of this J.J. cat,” said Lonnie. He took another sip of milk and left a white mustache over his own faded strawberry blond mustache. “If Mike is good at one thing, it’s scouting new talent.”
“I wanted to talk to you about that,” said Lander. “Mike needs to be more present.”
“You really could use a more consistent general manager, Dad,” agreed Barbara.
“Now, now, Mike has been a trusted employee for years. There will always be a place for loyal people at my company.”
“Like Rube?” muttered Brit.
“Yes, Rube is another trusted friend. There’s nothing more important than loyalty.”
“I’m just saying,” said Lander. “Being present is important, too.”
“In an industry like this one, there’s no one I’d rather work for than your dad,” said Cord. “And I’m not just saying that because he’s here. It’s a family environment that makes the club what it is.”
Brit’s heart buoyed at Cord’s words of support for her father. She didn’t agree with how either of them ran the place, but she appreciated him coming to her father’s rescue anyway. And he wasn’t a suckup. He was so good at what he did that he didn’t have to be. He was just honest.
“We’re not saying you should fire Mike, Dad. If anything, we’re saying promote him and hire someone else,” Barbara clarified gently.
This time, it was Brit’s turn to clear her throat. “Let’s get back to J.J. Mack, shall we?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AFTER EVERYONE DISPERSED from breakfast, Brit had the task of getting ready for the night’s festivities—the big show she had arranged with Daisy as the opening act for Vincent, who was the opening act for DJ Knight. She realized she hadn’t run anything by DJ Knight, but hopefully he wouldn’t care. What did it matter if someone went on before Vincent? DJ Knight probably wouldn’t even notice.
Cord had said he’d take care of redoing the paperwork, which was sweet, but Brit still felt guilty about it. She should’ve offered to help, but she herself had a lot to do. She had to make sure Daisy had something to wear and get her ready. Who knows how long that would take? Come back, pick out her own outfit, and get herself ready. Then somehow get Daisy in contact with Cord to get all the forms signed before she stepped on stage. Oh, and make sure Lander was in the audience, so he would see how great Daisy is.
All without a phone.
Taking her time in the shower, the steam rose up around her until the hot water turned her skin pink. She tilted her head back and enjoyed the warmth. She stayed in there until her fingertips turned to raisins before she begrudgingly turned the water off. Shivering, she stepped out of the shower and dried off her body before wrapping the towel around her hair.
Without bothering to put any clothes on, she walked naked back to her bedroom and into her walk-in closet. Living alone, she spent a lot of the time at home naked after showers if she didn’t have anywhere to be, and she was momentarily glad she had remembered earlier that morning Cord was around, and she hadn’t inadvertently walked around her house in the nude. She toweled off and walked out to the living room. The throw blanket had been carefully folded and laid on the back of the couch, just like Cord said he and Lander were going to do when Barbara and Brit were arguing about Saffron.
Her laptop dinged from her bedroom, and she went to check it. As if he knew she was thinking about him, Cord’s name appeared in an instant message. Her lips tugged into a smile.
CORD MCCUTCHEN: I had a lot of fun this morning and last night, all things considered. Thanks for letting me stay for breakfast.
Brit was about to type something about him being family but thought better of it.
BRIT BYERS: Anytime ;-)
Let him think what he wants about that. She didn’t know if she was leading him on. She didn’t know what to think. Cord was straight-laced. He was her dad’s employee, and he would soon be her brother-in-law. But he was sweet—endlessly sweet—and he cared about Brit and her family. And good Lord, did he look sexy when he woke up in the morning!
“Snap out of it, Brit,” she scolded herself. She suddenly felt very naked and exposed, looking at Cord’s name on her computer screen. It was almost like he could see her, bu
t she knew that was crazy. Still, she closed the laptop and went in search of some clothes.
WITH BRIT’S CAR STILL at Daisy’s apartment, she planned to have Daisy meet her at her place. Daisy burst in with a flushed expression and a huge grin. She stared at Brit inside the doorway, waiting for her to ask what she inevitably would.
“Well, how was last night?”
“Vincent. Is. An. Animal!” She said this sentence like it was four separate sentences, and after each word, Brit’s eyes grew wider and wider, and her jaw dropped farther and farther.
“I’m sorry, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” demanded Brit. She led Daisy to the couch and made her sit down, grasping both her hands.
Daisy heaved a gigantic sigh, her small chest and shoulders dramatically rising and falling. “It was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
“Daisy!”
“What? I thought that’s what you wanted!” Daisy’s ecstatic face fell, and her eyebrows knitted with concern over Brit’s opinion of her.
Brit squeezed Daisy’s hands. “No, no, I’m excited for you! I’m just surprised. I figured Vincent liked you, but I didn’t know it would progress this fast. That’s awesome!” She bounced Daisy’s fists against her thighs. “Tell. Me. Everything!” she said, mirroring Daisy’s speech pattern.
“Oh, where to start?”
“Start with when you left us.”
“OK, so he walked me back to my place to grab my guitar before going to the rehearsal space. I was trying to decide which guitar I wanted to bring, and I asked his opinion. I played the beginning of one of my songs for him, and he started harmonizing. Then he said I was beautiful, and I said, ‘so are you,’ and he tossed my guitar aside...”
Brit inhaled sharply.
“Gently.”
Brit exhaled.
“And we made love right there on my couch. Well, ‘made love’ is a sappy way of saying it, but it felt like lovemaking. It felt like dramatic, wild, sexy, loud, quiet, sensual, movie-quality lovemaking. It was everything. He could do things with his hips—oh Brit, he’s magic. And when we were done, he strummed on my body, and sang one of his songs to me...and we were done again. I had the BEST night.”
Daisy’s description of the night even made Brit blush. And then she thought of Cord on her own couch and their innocent night, and she imagined his hands on her body, and she blushed even deeper. “Daisy, that’s amazing.”
“It was. It really was.”
“I hate to ask, but did you get any rehearsing done?”
“Sort of? For a few seconds? He said he got the gist, and he’d sing that song with me tonight. So I’ll close my set with it.” She sighed. “I don’t know how I’ll get through that song without thinking about him.”
“No, definitely think about him! That’s called chemistry. I can picture it now—it’ll be as electric as Lindsay Buckingham and Stevie Nicks.”
“Good one. I love Fleetwood Mac.”
“And that’s why we get along, Daisy. Now what are you going to wear?”
WITH DAISY SORTED OUT in every sense of the word, Brit could tend to herself. She wasn’t the star of the show that night. In fact, she preferred to be in the background, but she still wanted to look hot. It was a big night, and quite a few people knew she was the one who had a lot at stake. She expected a lot of feedback, and hopefully it would be good.
She stripped off her clothes again and stepped back into her walk-in closet. Dress or pants? She went with a one-shoulder Jill Stuart number with a waist cutout and a thigh slit. Simple, black, but edgy. She added a studded bracelet for the bare arm and went to the bathroom to straighten her pink locks. It was excessive for an event where many of the attendees would be in jeans, but she didn’t mind standing out. With a smoky eye and a pale lip, she was ready to knock ‘em down like dominoes.
Without a car, Brit had limited options for making an entrance. She cracked open her laptop again and sent her sister a message, asking for a ride.
BARBARA BYERS: We’re going right from dinner to the club. Remember? The dinner rezzies you made us?
BRIT BYERS: Rezzies? Really, Barbie?
BARBARA BYERS: Good luck, sis! Gotta go sip my expensive martini with my hot fiancé.
Hmm...
Brit shot a message to Cord next.
BRIT BYERS: Are you at the club already?
CORD MCCUTCHEN: Of course. I never leave this place.
BRIT BYERS: K, never mind.
CORD MCCUTCHEN: What’s up?
BRIT BYERS: Looking for a ride. Don’t worry about it.
CORD MCCUTCHEN: Be right over.
Brit’s cheeks hurt from smiling at his reply.
When Cord knocked on the door, she swung it open and leaned one elbow on the doorframe, popping her hip.
Cord whistled. “Nice dress.”
Brit curtsied. “Thank you. Monsieur.” She held out her hand, and he took it and led her to his car. An entrance she would have.
THE PLACE WAS BUMPING. Brit could not contain her excitement. She pressed her face to the cool window in Cord’s car and then thought better of it and patted her forehead to make sure she didn’t displace any makeup.
“There are people lined up outside!” She bounced giddily.
“DJ Knight’s a big deal,” said Cord.
Brit shot him a look.
“What? He is. They’re not here for Vincent.”
Brit reached for the door handle.
“Hold on, let me get that. You can’t make an entrance getting out of the car yourself.” Cord shifted into park, and stepped out of the car. Brit watched him through the window as he stood up straight, buttoned the top button of his suit jacket and moved around the car like a gentleman from the regency era. He placed one arm behind his back, opened the door, and then offered her his hand.
“So charming,” she purred and strutted into the club. She glanced over her shoulder and smoldered at him. “Coming?”
Doors hadn’t officially opened yet, but Walter, the club’s regular bouncer, stepped aside and opened the door for Brit and Cord. “Hey, Brit. Hey, Cord. What’s up, man?” He raised his hand up for a high five. Brit avoided his hand in favor of an air kiss, but Cord indulged him with a manly, loud high five that reverberated in the street.
“Hey, why does she get to go in?” Some punk stepped out of line near the front and jabbed his finger in the direction of Brit and Cord.
Walter stuck out his beer gut and squared his shoulders in the guy’s direction. “Because she owns the place. Now get back in line.”
“Oh my gosh, that’s Britnee Byers,” Brit heard a woman’s voice say before Walter closed the door behind them.
She felt Cord’s light fingers on the small of her back. “Sounds like you have a fan.”
“Yay,” she deadpanned.
“I’m going to get a drink. Can I get you something before the place fills in? A Sprite?”
“With lime. Thanks, Cord.”
“Hey, Brit.”
Brit jumped at a woman’s voice she only vaguely recognized. A woman with waist-length brown hair in big sausage curls and feathery fake eyelashes grinned back at her.
“Oh hey! Autumn! It’s so good to see you!” Brit turned on her PR voice and air-kissed Autumn on both cheeks. She caught a whiff of shampoo and faint berry.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me. Walter let me in. He’s such a sweetie. I wanted to catch you because I have another idea for a feature on the blog.”
“Absolutely. The last feature on Sweet Maple Street did great things for the club.” Brit didn’t mention that the hugely popular Canadian lifestyle website and accompanying print magazine SMS also gave her much attention she would’ve preferred not to have. “What’s the topic?”
“The buzzing social life of children of stars. We’ll get you together with the daughters of Frank Franklin and Cub Amaryllis.”
“I’ve met Marta Franklin. Cub Amaryllis is...?”
“He’s a hockey player t
urned actor turned politician. His daughter is Carrie Amaryllis.”
“Cool, sounds great, Autumn.”
The doors behind them surged, and they were in the direct path of the crowd.
“Listen, you have my number, right? I’m going to duck out of the way before...” Brit pointed her thumb at the excited concertgoers coming at them.
Before Autumn could answer, the power-walking mass came between them like the Red Sea.
“Britnee Byers!” The girl that had recognized her from the line was at the other end of the lobby.
Brit ducked her head into the corridor where the coatroom was and pushed open the door to the roof stairwell, slamming it behind herself. She’d hide out there until the crowd dissipated and then she’d meet up with Cord and find a good spot to watch Daisy and Vincent.
She went into her purse to check her phone and kill time but then remembered her new phone hadn’t come in the mail yet. After what she guessed was fifteen minutes, the noise from the crowd outside decreased, and she assumed the first surge was let in, and people would be trickling in more gradually after that. She twisted the doorknob and pulled, but nothing happened.
“No, no, no, not tonight.” Kicking off her sandals, Brit braced her bare foot on the side of the doorjamb to give herself more leverage and pulled again. The door grunted but didn’t give. She pounded on the door, but it was too loud inside. Someone had to hear her eventually. She slumped against the door, pounding every so often when she heard voices.
Brit couldn’t believe she had done this to Cord again. He must be pissed or exceedingly worried. Likely both. And she had gotten all dressed up to sit in a stairwell and not be seen by anyone.
Plopping herself onto the bottom step, she leaned her head against the wall and shut her eyes just for a moment...or what felt like a moment.
When she heard a couple voices outside, she popped her eyes open and pushed her ear up to the door. The man and woman sounded like they were having an argument.
Brit with the Pink Hair (The Rockin' Austen Series, #1) Page 9