He gives me a smirk and turns around without waiting for my response. I stand there with the purse in my hand and watch him disappear back into the building. I gently place the new bag into its box and set it in the backseat.
What the hell is going on with my life?
“Hey girl, hey,” Mia shouts when I walk through the front door. I move into the living room to find her and Dixon snuggled on the couch watching The Bachelor.
Dixon looks miserable as hell, and I don’t blame him. The whole idea of trying to snag a guy who’s making out with dozens of other women doesn’t appeal to me – but whatever. To each their own. I’d prefer not to share spit with a plethora of strangers.
“Hi,” I answer, setting my bags down on the loveseat before falling down next to them in exhaustion.
“Rough day?” Dixon asks. His shoulder-length hair is pulled into a man bun, one that looks better than anything I can do on my best day.
Dixon is a professional surfer and spends all his time at the beach catching waves. His dad has one of the biggest surfing clothing companies in the world, so he doesn’t have to rely on a job while he trains.
“You have no idea,” I grumble. All I want to do right now is take a hot shower and collapse in my bed.
“What’s in the bag?” Mia asks.
“A gift from Knox.”
“A gift from Knox?” she relays slowly. “Your boss?” I nod, and she grabs the remote to pause her show. You know she means business when she hits that button. “You’ve worked for him for what? Two days? And he’s already gifting you shit from Neiman Marcus? I hate to tell you this, but you’re so wrong about him not wanting to sleep with you.” She jumps up from the couch and grabs the bag before I have a chance to stop her and lets out a whistle, admiring my new Gucci purse. “And damn, ol’ boy is trying hard. This thing is beautiful.”
I hope to God she doesn’t make this day any longer by pressing me for every detail. I debate telling her the real reason, but I don’t want her to think I’m dodging a boss who wants to stick his penis in me.
“He didn’t give it to me because he wants to bang me. He gave it to me because I shot a music video with him today.”
I wait for the incoming dramatic reaction I know I’m about to receive.
She drops the bag, her mouth falling open. “I’m sorry … you did what with him today?”
“He had a video shoot today for his newest single. The model didn’t show up, and there was no backup, so Thomas asked me to do it. I said no at first, but they were desperate, plus I couldn’t pass up the pay.” I shrug. “So I agreed.”
“Like one that’s going to be on TV … YouTube … everywhere on the internet?” she asks, falling back down on the couch.
I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth before answering. “That’s correct.”
“Holy fucking shit.”
“By model, do you mean love interest?” Dixon asks.
I nod, and Mia claps her hands. “Oh my God. I seriously cannot wait to see this. I bet you’re going to be trending when it releases. Everyone will be dying with curiosity about who the mysterious, hot blonde in his video is.”
“I hope not,” I grumble.
My phone beeps, and I see a text message when I grab it from my purse.
Thomas: Look up Knox on the internet right now. You might have your first problem to fix.
I type Knox’s name in the search box of the internet browser. My breathing falters, and my fingertips go numb when I start to scroll through the headlines.
Oh shit.
“I have a feeling I’m going to be trending before the video releases,” I tell them. I click on the first link and hold my phone out so they can read the story.
“He’s who you left the club with? I thought you took an Uber home?” Mia asks.
“I was about to book a ride when Josh followed me into the backroom and pretty much started to harass me. That’s when Knox suddenly appeared. His driver was already on his way to pick him up, so he offered to give me a ride. It saved me money and the awkwardness of riding in the car with a stranger.” Okay, it might’ve been more awkward in the car with him.
“How convenient. Your knight in shining armor.”
I give her a dirty look. “Coincidence, not convenience.”
She shrugs and grabs her wine glass from the coffee table, taking a big gulp. “I still think he wants to get in your panties. The guy gives you a car.”
“He didn’t give me a car,” I interrupt. “He loaned me a car. It’s no different than providing a company vehicle.”
“So he loans you a car, practically follows you in a club to give you a ride home, convinces you to co-star in his video, and gives you a handbag that costs more than some people make in a month?”
I look down at my fingernails. It does sound a bit extreme for only working for him for a few days, but celebrities are extreme, especially young and rich ones.
“He was watching you at the club,” she goes on, taking her two fingers and pressing them against her eyes. “I saw it with my own two eyes.”
I knew she’d make a big deal out of this. “He was surprised to see me there. He didn’t know I’d be in the whole rich, VIP crowd or whatever. Our relationship is one hundred percent professional.”
She snorts. “Good luck convincing other people of that. You’re hanging out with one of the most famous people in the world.” She raises her legs and rests them on the coffee table. “So what are you going to do?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet. I’ll talk to Thomas and ask what’s the best way to handle it.”
They watch me as I reply to Thomas’ text.
Me: Release a statement with the true story. We ran into each other. I needed a ride home. The end. Completely innocent.
His response isn’t what I was hoping for.
Thomas: It’s your job to fix it, Libby. Write up a statement, and I’ll release it.
“So what did he say, you video vixen?” she asks.
“That it’s my job to fix it.” I get up from the couch. “And you’re annoying.” I head towards the stairs to go to my bedroom, hearing her laughter in the background, and close the door before sinking down on my bed.
I hit Knox’s name and text him next.
Me: Not sure if you’ve seen the picture of us leaving the club that’s gone viral yet, but how do you want me to handle it?
Knox: Tell them whatever you want. You’re in charge.
Shit!
I wanted one of them to fix this problem for me.
I grab my laptop and start writing out a response to let the world know we’re not screwing.
Fuck the paparazzi.
11
Knox
Me: Tell them whatever you want. You’re in charge.
I completely spaced mentioning the pictures of us leaving the club together to her. So much shit was going on that it slipped my mind.
When Thomas came in bitching about the model being MIA, I was close to losing it. My hands were shaking, my mind going nuts over the thought of having to cancel the entire shoot after spending so much money on booking everyone. I’m glad I was in the other room because I almost fell over in shock when Thomas said Libby would step in.
I could tell she wasn’t completely sold on the idea, and there was no way she would’ve done it if she wasn’t working for me, so I texted my personal shopper and told her to find Libby the perfect bag. I don’t know why I bought her the purse, but it was the best thank you her for stepping out of her comfort zone and saving my ass I could think of.
Libby: Got it.
I hit reply …but I’m not sure what to say back.
Should I even respond?
I’m stretched out on the sheets of my California King bed, the ceiling fan on above me, and listening to the TV in the background. It’s on some reality show about finding the love of your life or some shit. I laugh to myself. No one ever finds the love of their lives – especially on a damn TV show.
Me: Do you know …
I delete that.
Me: Any plans tonight?
I backspace that.
Me: So what are you up to?
I hesitate. Will she think it’s weird if I ask that?
I delete it when I come up with a better idea.
Me: What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?
I toss my phone down next to me and rest my head on the pillow until she responds.
Libby: We put everything in your phone, remember?
Me: Yes, but I’m too lazy to look it up right now.
And I want to talk to her.
Libby: Tour meeting tomorrow at 9 AM.
Me: Cancel it. I’m not going.
Libby: You’ve got to be kidding me?
Me: Nope.
Libby: You’re going. I don’t care if I have to break into your house and drag you out of bed. And don’t forget about getting me a key made, btw.
Me: You threatened to come and drag me out of bed. You can’t expect me to give you a key now.
I wait a few seconds and no reply. I reread my last text, wondering if I said something wrong. I even held back my urge to fuck with her and say I’d rather she climb into my bed than drag me out of it.
I text her again, blaming it on my boredom.
Me: Calm down, killer. I’m only fucking with you. I’m not cancelling.
This meeting is too big of a deal to cancel. Tours are where I make the most money.
My phone beeps.
Libby: Fucking with me seems to be your favorite past time. I’ll see you in the morning. Be ready to go. Traffic is most likely going to be a bitch.
Fucking her would actually be my favorite past time … if I had the chance.
Me: Yes ma’am. See you in the morning.
I click off her message and hit Thomas’ name.
Me: Is Libby coming with me on tour?
Thomas: Undecided. I thought we’d talk about it tomorrow.
Me: I think it’s a good idea. She seems to know what she’s doing and keeps me on track.
Thomas: Don’t try to be slick with her. She has people that will destroy you if you touch her. I’m not joking.
Whoa … not the response I was expecting. She has people that will destroy me? I need to question my little assistant more and find out what I’m dealing with. Maybe sunshine has a little bit more of a cloudy edge to her.
I’m elated for this tour and counting down the days until I leave. It’ll be a breath of fresh air and nice to get out of the city for a while. It clears my mind, and I do my best writing on my tour bus. Performing for my fans is what moves me, what drives me, and makes me the happiest. I have a purpose for a few hours.
I email the producer and tell him to send me the unedited video so I can work on it.
I can’t wait to see it.
12
Libby
I have my bedroom light off, Friends is streaming on my TV as background noise, and I reach over and snag my phone from the nightstand to double check the time again. I’ve probably looked at it at least twenty-four times since I climbed into bed after showering.
I groan when I see it’s still three in the morning. Sleep is not my friend tonight. Even the Ambien I popped earlier isn’t giving me any love. I guess my anxiety beats out pharmaceuticals.
Why the hell can’t I fall asleep?
I’m not a hundred percent sure of the exact reason, but it most likely has something to do with the fact that I’ll be facing Knox in about six hours, and it’s going to be awkward city. I’m positive of it. And if there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s awkwardness.
I grab the pillow next to me, press it over my face, and scream into it a few times. I toss it next to me when I’m finished having my meltdown, grab my phone again, and hit his name.
He probably won’t get my text until the morning, but I need to make sure he knows, so I can attempt to get some shuteye.
Me: I’ll just meet you at the meeting tomorrow.
Knox has his own car … or his own cars to be more accurate. There’s no reason why he’d want to ride with me.
My phone beeps with a response a few seconds later, surprising me.
What is he doing up at this time?
Oh yeah, party boy.
He’s probably sitting on his couch, feet kicked up, and getting wasted while not even thinking about the video being that big of a deal. Then he’ll go to his bedroom and screw some other chick without me on his mind.
That’s the attitude I need to have, well, minus the screw a chick part. I can’t let this get to me. I have a job to do.
Knox: I’d prefer you meet me at my place and I ride with you, sunshine. I need you to pick me up some breakfast.
Well, my brilliant little plan just flew out the window.
Me: I thought you hated my driving?
Knox: True, but I love your company.
Me: Ok, I’ll be there at nine. What do you want for breakfast?
Knox: Whatever sounds good to you. Treat yourself. You have a credit card.
I was given a business card to charge any expenses to get what Knox needs.
Me: You’re my boss. Tell me what you want.
Knox: Oh, sunshine. You know what I want.
He’s drunk. He has to be drunk.
Me: I could sue you for sexual harassment, you know.
I grin at my response. That will teach him to keep his sexual remarks to himself.
Knox: Sexual harassment? I was referring to wanting an Egg McMuffin. There’s nothing sexual about that, and if you think there is, you must be into some kinky shit.
Me: You’re seriously the most frustrating man I know.
Knox: And you’re seriously the most sexually frustrated woman I know.
I stab each letter of my response forcefully.
Me: SEXUAL HARASSMENT!!!!
Knox: Damn auto correct putting sexual in there. Don’t file a complaint against me. File one against Apple. They’re the ones who are always changing my fuck to duck. It’s quite frustrating.
We need to move onto a new subject.
Me: Why are you even up?
Knox: Why are you even up?
Me: Good point.
Knox: Insomnia can be a bitch. Now answer my question. Are you out drinking champagne on the golf course with your cashmere sweater-wearing boyfriend?
Me: Judgmental much? And I told you he’s not my boyfriend.
Knox: Sunshine, you’re the last person who should be calling someone out for being judgmental.
Me: What’s that supposed to mean?
Knox: You judged me the second you walked into Thomas’ office. Shit, probably before you even stepped inside.
Me: You asked me if I slept with you and was lying about carrying your love child!
Knox: So you judge someone because they ask if they’ve fucked you?
Me: No, I judge someone who shares a bed with everyone who has a vagina.
Knox: You have a vagina, and I haven’t shared a bed with you.
Me: OMG this conversation is so over. Go to sleep. I’ll have your Egg McMuffin in the morning.
The man is seriously a pain in my ass.
Knox: Yummy
I keep my phone in my hand, waiting to see if he’s going to say anything else, but he doesn’t.
Yummy?
Did he really just end our conversation with the word yummy?
“Asshole,” I mutter to myself, turning my attention back to Ross and Rachel drama.
My alarm goes off, and I have it set to that Happy song by Pharrell. I hoped I’d be in a cheerful mood and energized to get up if I set it to something upbeat. It’s unfortunately doing the opposite of that.
I want to hurl my phone across the room, but I’m broke now, so there’s no throwing shit I can’t afford to replace.
I don’t know when I actually fell asleep, but I think I was another four Friends episodes in before my eyes slowly shut.
It takes me a few minu
tes to convince my brain that it’s time to get up, and I finally drag myself to the bathroom to shower. I throw my hair into a messy bun and then take it down. We’re meeting with Thomas and Knox’s tour manager today. I need to look a little more professional. I run to my bedroom for my straightener, and thirty minutes later, I’m walking out the door with my hair and makeup done.
I make it to Knox’s only a few minutes early because the line at McDonalds was a fucking nightmare.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he sings out when he spots me walking into the kitchen after realizing the front door was unlocked. I hand him the bag of food, and he starts to pull everything out. “Did you not get yourself something?” I shake my head, and he looks at me in disappointment. “Why not?”
“I’m not a big McDonalds fan.”
He unwraps his sandwich, takes a giant bite, and swallows it down before replying. “How can you be American and not like McDonalds?” He takes another bite and groans. “When I was little, going to McDonalds was like Christmas for us, even if it was something small like a cheeseburger. My brother and I thought it was the best meal in the world.”
His words hurt my heart. McDonalds was never a big deal to me growing up. I didn’t give a shit about happy meals. I actually hated them and would bitch at my dad if he tried to go there because none of my friend’s health nut parents would let them eat it.
It’s funny how much the environment you grow up in affects your life and what you’re grateful for, and it’s sad there’s no way to change it, either. You don’t get to decide who your parents are. Some of us get lucky, while others not so much. Fast food, something I took for granted, a damn McDonald’s cheeseburger, another kid was wishing for.
I give him a small smile. “Well anytime you want something from there, you just let me know.”
“Got it, and you’re going to get something, too.”
“Maybe. As soon as you finish up, we have to get going. I’ll meet you in the Jeep.”
“Change of plans. The tour manager and Thomas are meeting us here.” He taps on the stool next to him. “So make yourself comfortable, and if you didn’t get a chance to eat something, my fridge is full.”
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