Disrespectful Diva (DJ Series Book 2)

by Helen J. Barnes

  He frowns at me and I realise I’m being sharp with him so I roll my eyes and soften my face.

  “You wanted to see the radio station diary? Here.” He tosses the diary onto the desk before stepping back from me again. Shit, this could turn into another benny if I’m not careful and I did just tell Pops I’d give him a fair trial. I pick up the diary and open it, finding the date I wanted to book Dayton in to play. I see there is already a booking for someone called Ryan. I haven’t got a clue who he is, which means he’s not important enough to take the slot I want for Dayton. Dayton outranks him. Simple.

  “This Ryan fella, I want you to rebook him for another night,” I say, swiping up a pen and scrawling Dayton Scott’s name in, the time and length of his slot.

  “For when exactly?” Dom asks, turning the page and finding all surrounding Frantic Friday slots are fully booked. “There’s no other Friday’s to move him to for another three months.” Dom seems annoyed but I shrug my shoulders.

  “So switch him to a Thursday show,” I say flippantly and Dom frowns.

  “He works Thursday nights, like, a proper job, he’s booked this Friday night off work purely to play the show. I can’t shit on him like that. I’ll put him on Saturday’s show instead.”

  “You can’t, he’s a nobody and Saturday nights are prime time slots. Oh, and while we’re at it, my Friday night show this week will be pre-recorded so just scribble that ‘live’ out.”

  “What? Why?” He asks and if I’m right I think he looks a little hurt. It’s pretty obvious the reason is because I don’t want to share two hours of my time with him.

  “Because I want a night off. I work six days a week, Dominic. I wanna try and salvage some of my weekend for myself.”

  “Really? Well why I don’t I switch Ryan to your Friday slot and you can record me a four hour show for Saturday night?” Dom asks and I shake my head.

  “I’m booked to do two hours. You can’t double it just because I want to pre-record it!” I scowl at him and my eyes bulge when the cheeky bastard has the audacity to smirk. “It’s not fucking funny, Dom. Don’t blackmail me!”

  “You know a live show always goes down better than a recorded show. The listeners like to hear the DJ chat or do shout outs for the fans. If I’m losing out on that then I want double time.”

  “Are you serious right now? You’re being unreasonable and you know it.” I cross my arms and I hate the fact that he is actually trying to bargain with me. I do what I want, when I want and where I want.

  “You want to fuck up my diary for Dayton, you can at least make it worth my while.” Dom cockily pouts those sexy lips and crosses him arms also. We stand staring at one another. It’s a silent standoff, both of us waiting for the other to back down. I consider Pops’ view on the situation and realise he is probably going to end up mediating because Dom and I are both stubborn bastards. Dom has no idea how exhausting recording a four hour mix is. You can’t even piss in case a track goes off. There is no way on earth I’m doing four hours for him. I switch tactics and drop my arms with a sigh.

  “Dom, listen, I know you have this crazy idea that I’m a diva…”

  He snorts and looks to the heavens like he’s asking the angels ‘Did you hear that?’

  “I’m not the little bitch you think I am. I’m simply trying to catch myself some down time to do the normal shit people take for granted.”

  “Like what?” His eyes challenge me and I blink in surprise.

  “What?”

  “What do you want to do that other people take for granted?”

  I raise my eyebrows, wondering what the hell he needs to know for. To answer his question I search my brain for examples of things people who work Monday to Friday do with their weekends. Clubbing, but I can’t say that. Family time. I have no family.

  Shit! Think, Tara, think!

  I look up into his shining emeralds and they dance with amusement, he knows I’m stumped.

  “Get my hair cut, take a long soak in a candlelit bubble bath…”

  His eyes trail over me, setting my skin alight and making my temperature rocket.

  Don’t blush, Tara!

  I look at the floor and tuck my hair behind my ear before squaring him with a look that tells him to stop with the lingering looks and flirtatious smirks. He uncrosses his arms and steps closer, instinctively I step back but my backside is pressed up to the mixer. Shit!

  “Your weekend paints a very pretty picture, Tara…” His hand slowly comes to the side of my face and gently he takes a few strands of my long blonde hair in his fingers. My eyes never leave his face as he softly wraps the strands around his finger. When his eyes find mine I lose all rational thought, his close proximity is playing havoc with my senses and I’m lost in him. “But I think your hair looks perfect just how it is.” His voice is barely a whisper and I feel his warm breath on my face.

  His eyes come down to my mouth and every tiny atom that makes up my being is screaming at me to kiss that sensual, beautiful mouth. My heart is pounding in my ears and my breathing is coming in short blasts.

  Holy shit, he’s practically panting, too. He wants me, too. It’s in his eyes.

  I slowly lift my hand, needing to touch him. My fingertips glide up his broad and solid chest, creeping up the cotton of his white T-shirt. His breathing comes faster still and his pupils dilate, telling me he is just as turned on as I am. He wants me to touch him. I continue up onto his shoulder and I feel the need to press the length of my body to his, wanting to press my breasts to him.

  Then both our heads turn when the door bursts open and Shaz bounces into the room with two mugs of coffee and a smile which soon falls from her face.

  I grab Dominic’s hand and shove it away from my hair, scowling at him just as he frowns at me and steps away. “We’ll see what Pops has to say about this,” I spit.

  Dom grabs the diary from the desk and squares me with a look of distain. “Fine, enjoy your Friday night off, I’ll just rebook Ryan,” he barks before storming for the door. Shaz is looking from Dom to me then back to Dom. He turns on the threshold and looks me over from head to toe and I feel my blood heat under the scrutiny. “I need your mix on my desk by Thursday at the latest. Three hours. Minimum,” he demands before slamming the door behind him.

  I blow out a long breath before practically collapsing into the chair. I put my head in my hands. What the hell was I thinking? One minute I’m arguing with the infuriating fucker and the next I wanna strip him and take him over the mixer! Christ, this is going to get messy. He obviously wants me, too. Or is he just playing me, knowing he’s got under my skin? Everyone knows Dom has had more women that hot dinners, surely he’s just manipulating me to try and get his own way?

  “What exactly did I just disturb, Tara?” Shaz asks before placing a steaming hot mug of coffee onto the desk. I inwardly sigh. I really don’t know what that was. All I know is I feel so fucking confused yet irritatingly turned on. Shit, this all got complicated very fast. I run my hands through my hair and meet Shazza’s curious stare.

  “We were arguing over my radio show this weekend. I said I wanted time off to get my hair cut and he thought that gave him an invitation to give my locks a close inspection. He’s lucky I didn’t slap him.” I lie out of my back teeth and Shazza’s mouth falls open.

  “Can I kick him in the bollocks for you?”

  I can’t help but giggle at Shaz’s generous offer. I am tempted to take her up on it but then I think it might just make me want to kiss it all better for him.

  Tara! You hate him. He’s annoying and arrogant. We don’t do sex and distractions. Do we?

  “Let’s just get back to work and let Pops deal with him. We are almost ready for mastering this tune so let’s crack on, it’s been a slow start this morning.”

  Regardless of us getting back down to work this afternoon we made slow progress. I felt like I was wading through slurry and my mind was constantly being pulled back to my argument with Dominic. I�
�m sure Shaz could see I didn’t have my head in the game but she never commented. Not even when we got home did she bring up my argument with Dom. As I trudge off to bed for an early night I find myself searching for Dom on Facebook, not that I could add him, my friends list is full, but I can’t help looking at his profile picture.

  Just the image of his bright green eyes and sexy, strong jaw has my tummy tightening. I lay in bed and roll onto my tummy, scrolling through what parts of his profile are set to public. He’s tagged in hundreds of clubbing pictures, he obviously enjoyed the night life in Birmingham, too. I’m flicking through all the pictures of him; him on lads nights out, him with numerous women with their arms wrapped around him or kissing him. Why do I get a sharp and undeniable stab of jealousy? I force myself to relax my jaw which has unconsciously tightened.

  A particular picture leaps out at me. It’s a snap of him behind a set of decks with Lucy Hart and she is kissing his cheek as he grins at the camera. My stomach swirls and I get a wash of nausea sweep through me. How the fuck does he know Lucy Hart?

  Lucy is my female rival from the Serious Soundz record label. We are constantly played off against each other and constantly get nominated in competitions for the title of the UK’s top female DJ and producer. We are complete opposites. Lucy does the whole body glitter and glamour thing. She does dress changes in between sets and spends more time posing for pouty selfies more than she does actually mixing. She is stunning at almost six foot tall with huge boobs and a tiny waist. Her flaxen hair and big brown eyes are the first thing you notice, after her willowy figure.

  I’ve never felt inferior to Lucy in the talent department. I can hold my own in that category but when it comes to a beauty contest Lucy is beautiful in a candy floss and glitter kind of way, totally feminine and glamourous. Me on the other hand, I’m attractive in a Lara croft kind of way. I know I have attractive features, my big blue eyes pop and my shoulder length blonde locks shine like silk. I just hide my feminine features behind baggy tops, ripped jeans and lots of black eye make up.

  But we aren’t in the modelling industry, clubbers aren’t there to rate your rack. All real lovers of hard house care about is how you can rock a dance floor. I do that perfectly well without nail extensions and false eye lashes. That is exactly why the hard house scene as a whole is divided over who is the queen of the decks in London. Lucy has tits and talent, but I’m equally talented and bring the attitude. Lucy knows this.

  I click off Dominic’s profile and cram my phone underneath my pillow. Flicking on my iPod I hope some settling RnB will lull me to sleep, but more than that, I hope I don’t run into Dominic at work for the rest of the week. Me and Dom in a room alone could prove to be dangerous. It looks like I’ll be doing everything in my power to avoid doing a live set on Xtreem radio for the foreseeable future.

  C hapter 4

  On Tuesday I’m lucky enough to steer clear of Dominic and apart from the odd cocky smirk as we pass in the hallway I manage to get the head space I need to get some work done. Wednesday gets off to pretty much the same start and I’m almost convincing myself it’s not quite as bad as I imagined working in the same building as him. Until Wednesday afternoon when I’m in the studio working with a boyfriend-girlfriend duo of DJs who mix back to back and go by the name Hot Ice. They have paid some serious money out for me to engineer a track with them.

  Dom breezes in and I feel my pulse jump. Just the fact that he has his effect on me annoys me and I ask Jason and Lauren to excuse me for a moment as I slip out of the room, Dominic following me. I close the door and turn to find him stood incredibly close, totally invading my personal space. My libido screams in delight, my brain screams at me to get the hell out of there. “What is it, Dom? If this is about your mix then I’ll have it on your desk tomorrow. I’m recording it tonight.” I lay emphasis on the word recording to remind him that I won, his radio mix from me won’t be live.

  “I came to tell you it doesn’t matter, I don’t need a mix from you.” Dom tells me proudly and my brow creases. What does he mean he doesn’t need a mix from me?

  “Come again? You’ve lost me, what are you talking about?”

  “I’ve filled the slot, a live mix from another headliner. You get your night off, Dayton gets his slot and I get my live headliner. I’ve worked it out with everyone.” He gives me that same cocky grin and I tip my head in curiosity. Is he seriously trying to tell me he is bumping me off the show?

  “Oh, really, Mr. I’ve-got-everything-covered. Who exactly do you propose to drop me in place of?” I’m tight lipped and can feel my temper start to over throw the fire of my libido. The two combined pushes my body temperature up to lava level and I feel minutes from erupting.

  “Lucy Hart. I told her I was screwed for a live performance and she offered.”

  I almost swallow my tongue and I blink at him in disbelief. Is he actually going to drop Xtreem’s top DJ for our arch rivals DJ?

  “You can’t do that you fucking idiot. She is resident for Serious Soundz! You know that right?” I push him away from me and immediately start for studio four, at the opposite end of the building, which I know Pops is working in with another client.

  “Oi, who are you calling a fucking idiot? Listen, this is my station and I’m running the show. You may call the shots with mixing and producing, maybe even having input on the events, but the station is my responsibility now. If I see the opportunity to improve my show then I will. Your personal issues with Lucy make no difference to me, or the listeners for that matter.” Dom is ranting and following in my wake of fury.

  “I think you need to get your shit straight, Dominic. This is Pops’ station and he will put a stop to this madness. This…” I wave a finger between the two of us. “This is you being a jerk because I told you to drop Ryan for Dayton. Which, by the way, Pops is more than happy about. I just landed him another headliner to play at our birthday bash with that bit of bargaining,” I smirk and stop outside the studio room door, turning on Dom I point my finger in his face. “All you are doing is making waves because you have a personal problem with me.”

  Dom steps back and looks surprised but only for a millisecond before his arrogance takes over and he actually chuckles, crossing his arms over his firm, wide chest. I look up at him with a look of death. I swear I am seconds away from losing my shit and taking Shazza’s advice to kick him in the balls.

  “Aren’t we a little fire cracker, Dis-Diva? You know, your lack of modesty really is repulsive.”

  I choke and splutter, shocked to the core by his harsh words. His eyes dance with satisfaction and dare me to argue back, because he is thoroughly enjoying this.

  “Me? Repulsive? Say that again - without looking at me like you want to rip my knickers off, Dominic!”

  His eyes widen and he looks around like I’ve have just publically thrown him out of the closet. He looks back to me, obviously astounded, but he narrows his eyes and lowers his face to mine, our mouths just inches apart. He slowly licks his lips and I can’t drag my eyes from his hot-as-hell mouth. He gently takes my face in his silky palms and I don’t even try to pull away when he takes a breath to speak.

  “I can’t, Tara, because you are making me hard as hell. You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

  The studio door flies open and we jump apart, both of us stepping away from each other and spinning to see Pops stood on the threshold with a look of pure fury on his face. Nothing gets past his wise old eyes though and he looks us both up and down before pointing to his office.

  “Move your asses, now.”

  I scowl at Dominic and, I swear, for a heartbeat I see apology in his murky green orbs.

  We step into Pops’ small but well lit office and as he rounds his desk Dom and I both start to shout simultaneously but Pops quietens us with a simple lift of his hand and a drop of his head.

  “Tell me, where is the lion tamer?” Pops asks calmly and I frown, flicking a confused looked to Dom who shrugs, looking back to Pops like h
is old age really has caught up with him. “Because I swear you pair think I’m running a fucking circus! What in god’s holy shit is going on?”

  I take a breath to speak but Pops jumps back in before we have the chance to utter a word. “One at a time, take me from the top but make it quick because I have a very generous client sat waiting for me in that studio and I’m in here playing referee to you monkeys.” He reminds and I spare a seconds thought for Jay and Lauren who are also paying me to work with them. Shit, this doesn’t look good on me. Damn Dominic and his bullshit. “Tara, fill me in.”

  I glance at Dom before moving forward and recounting the whole story to Pops who looks surprised and annoyed at all the right times but stays tight lipped until I have recalled every detail. Dom and I both stand in front of his desk like pupils waiting for the headmaster to expel us from school. Pops indicates the chairs and both Dom and I take a seat, again trading apprehensive glances. Pops levels us both with a look that lets us know he is pretty pissed off, but he has a plan.

  “Dom, you can just go ahead and cancel Lucy Hart for the Frantic Friday show,” Pops says calmly and I snigger, knowing Pops would never drop me for anyone else. I actually take the opportunity to smirk at Dom, but it is soon slapped off my face. “Tara, you can just cancel your appointment with the hairdresser because you will be playing a two hour live slot on Dom’s Frantic Friday show.”

  I think my mouth actually drops open and I shake my head, preparing my argument. “But, Pops, I can’t work with him, the guy is…” I don’t get chance to finish because Pops stands and shakes his head.

  “No buts or excuses from either of you. These.., issues, between you both have to be worked out. I expect an immediate improvement from both of you. I don’t employ clowns to work in this circus. Where is your professionalism? I don’t care if I have to cage you both until you talk through these differences, I will. I really thought it would be Shazza I had to rein in but it seems you pair are really showing her how it’s done.” He sounds disappointed and the look in his eye tells me I’ve let him down. I get a huge stab of guilt pierce my chest and I glance at Dom who also looks apologetically at Pops then drops his gaze to the floor.