Manaconda 2: The Second Coming: A Rock Star Romantic Comedy Series

by Taryn Elliott

  I pulled my hands away from the bottle and returned them to my glass.

  “So you get your shit together and make nice with Reed.” I opened my mouth and he stared me down until I shut up. “You talk to Reed. Bros before hos is something jackass punks say. Sure you give the guy a beat down, but then it’s over. This? This is you projecting how mad you are at her and yourself onto Reed.”

  “What was that about hearts and feelings?”

  “Hey, I have to have a psych degree to guard all these idiots.”

  I lifted a brow.

  “Not a real one. But I pay attention. And you and that PR princess have something going. I don’t know if it’s the real deal because I’ve only seen her across the room.”

  “You aren’t allowed to talk to her.”

  Noah downed his glass. “Because you know she’d pick me.”

  “No, because you’d tell her too much.”

  “That too. Wait until Mom get’s a hold of her.”

  I groaned.

  “But she seems smart, and she knows how to handle you.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “Hot girls come and go, but it’s pretty rare to have brains with an added bonus of a career.”

  “Filled with the people I hate. Just like you,” I muttered.

  “Yeah, well, you don’t fall in love with her clients. You fall for the woman—what she does is incidental. You think she wants to fall for a rockstar? Talk about a bad bet.”

  “Hey.”

  “What? Look at it from her point of view. You’re on the road, you’re constantly surrounded by beautiful women, and as far as she knows you’re probably writing about her.”

  “Points—many of them.”

  “I’m a goddamn scoreboard, son. A winning one, and you’re still sitting at zero.”

  “So, what do I do?”

  “You fight for your girl. In a big way. And you let the other bullshit go. It’s not your concern.”

  “Bats is my friend.”

  “And you have to trust him.”

  “Easier said than done,” I muttered.

  “No, it shouldn’t be. Not if he’s your friend.” And for the first time, that started to sink in. Reed wouldn’t let her do anything to hurt me or the band. Himself maybe, but not the band.

  Noah pulled out his phone, opened something, set it down on the table between us, then pushed it my way. “Something like this.”

  I glanced down, my eyebrows shot up before I laughed. “Perfect.”

  5

  Kennedy

  “You have an appointment with Babbles at three, a consult at five, and a dinner with Lila Shawcross and Indiana West at seven.”

  I scanned through my calendar and verified all the appointments with Carter. “Got it.”

  “I’ve fielded three dozen messages and flagged four that look interesting. The rest are crackpots or former crazies we cut loose.”

  “Vetted how?” I lifted my fifth latte of the day and it was only noon. My heart was going to explode if I put anymore espresso in my system, but I took another sip with a grateful groan.

  “Usual,” Carter said and popped a piece of licorice in his mouth. “Most didn’t even make it through our first level review process.”

  “Damn.”

  Carter lined up his iPad and phone beside his sack of candy. “You got noticed by the bottom feeders. I knew it was going to happen eventually.”

  Ever since the Amoeba debacle was on Entertainment Tonight I’d been handing off my texts and messages to Carter. I had to make up for lost time with my regular clients and still had to do a final check in with Ripper Records.

  Oh, and I hadn’t slept in two weeks.

  No word from Hunter in fifteen days.

  I pushed that back. No. No, thinking about him. Especially if I had a full day.

  “Did Bethany’s agent call us back?”

  Carter nodded. “Yeah, he got her into Teen Vogue for a spread with two of the ladies from Teen Wolf.”

  “Perfect.”

  Carter tilted his head. “You know, you look like that Holland girl.”

  “She wishes she had my hair colorist,” I said.

  “Damn right she does. Love the wine colored chunks by the way. The subtle ones were nice, but the new do…hot.”

  I rolled my eyes. A spa day and a treatment by my hairdresser covered up the obvious fatigue, but there was only so much spackle a girl could use. I knew what I looked like in the mirror. And if I didn’t get some sleep soon, I was going to have to resort to a sleeping pill and a bottle of wine.

  “Thanks, sweetie.”

  “Felicity loved her spa day, too. Forgot to tell you.”

  “Yes, well, your girlfriend is on the ball. She sent me flowers and a box of truffles from Mignon.”

  “That suck up.”

  I snickered. “So, tell me about the consult.”

  “Boyband reject. Trying to go out on his own. More tattoos than sense, but he has a ridiculous following on Twitter and Instagram. He’s lazy though. Pushes the same crap through all his social media places. A few personal appearances and an assistant would go a long way toward bumping up his footprint.”

  I nodded and made quick notes with my stylus. “How about Courtney?”

  Carter nodded. “Yeah, she’d work. I’ll contact her.”

  “No, that’s okay, I’ll email her.”

  “Cool. That gives me time to take care of your email. It blew up again. Seriously, can we go get Hunter back—”

  “No.”

  “But he was so good for business.”

  “No.”

  “And Felicity didn’t get a chance to meet him. Just one charity dinner or something?”

  I didn’t bother looking up from my iPad. I knew not to give Carter any sort of tidbit of attention on this subject. Then came the inquisition.

  All I wanted to do was forget it ever happened. It was bad enough that I had to go talk to Lila and Indie today. I’d been able to dodge most of the requests for a meeting, but I didn’t want to look unprofessional.

  Especially since Ripper Records had given me a good leg up with my business. Donovan Lewis wasn’t a man you wanted to go up against. He wasn’t the type to blacklist, but he did the next best thing—not mention your name anywhere.

  Oh, he gave a polite response when asked directly. I’d seen it happen with agents and executives from smaller businesses looking for help from Donovan Lewis Global. Burning a bridge with Donovan wasn’t a good business practice. At all.

  Donovan didn’t need to badmouth anyone. His silence said so much more. So, I was going to that dinner meeting. No matter how much I didn’t want to.

  I stood up from my dining room table. Carter and I used it as for meetings more often than not. It just wasn’t worth keeping an office for what we did. Everything was mobile.

  “All right, you can work remotely tonight. Meet up for ten tomorrow?”

  “Slave driver.” Carter smoothed down his blue tie with a faint plaid design. It should have clashed with his chartreuse dress shirt, but it didn’t. Because he was Carter.

  “Yeah, that’s me. You get to sleep and everything.”

  “Unlike you.”

  “Carter.”

  “Look, I appreciate the whole tough upper lip thing, but maybe if you just—”

  “Not open for discussion.”

  “You’re miserable.”

  “Have I made your life hell?”

  “No, but you don’t want to go drink at the wine bar anymore, you turn down every invitation to our house, you haven’t even made fun of my ties this week.”

  “Your ties are glorious.”

  “I know they are, but you hate plaid. I’ve worn plaid three days in a row.”

  “I do not hate plaid. I lust after Jensen Ackles like any other red blooded woman—Dean Winchester lives in it.”

  “That’s different. Even I’d fuck Dean Winchester.”

  “Nice.”

  “That du
de is an alpha’s alpha with a side of testosterone.”

  “Truth.”

  “But I wore pink plaid and you said nothing.”

  “You did?”

  Carter swiped a hand down his face. “You wound me. Like on a soul-deep level.”

  I knew what he was doing. And I even appreciated it on some level. But I really didn’t want to talk about Hunter. I wanted to get over him. “I’m going to be fine.”

  “I know you will be, but you don’t have to be. You’re being stubborn.”

  “No, I’m being smart.”

  Carter pulled me up out of my chair and into his arms. “Scared.”

  The familiar tang of licorice and spicy Dior cologne he always wore seeped into my brain. My eyes burned. “Smart,” I whispered. I laid my cheek against his shoulder. Just for a second. That’s all I needed. Then I could go and work like I was supposed to.

  Because that’s what strong, independent women did. They didn’t cry over rock stars. They got their shit taken care of.

  I sniffed. “Where do I have to meet Bethany?”

  “At her new digs in West Hollywood.”

  “What the hell? Why West Hollywood?”

  “She likes to think she’s trendy?”

  I hid a smile. “Text—”

  “Already in your phone.”

  “Bless you.”

  Carter packed up his electronics in his messenger bag and slung it over his neck and across his body. “Want me here tomorrow?”

  “Yes, probably.”

  “Ok. I’ll see you then. Have fun with Babbles.”

  “Goodbye, Carter.”

  He walked to the door, pausing at the threshold. “What? You know you call her that in your head.”

  “No, I do not.” Only because I was terribly afraid I’d actually slip and call her that to her face. I played with my shirttail. “Carter?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  He grinned so wide his eyes were mere slits, but they gleamed with happiness. “Ciao, crazy girl.” The door shut behind him.

  I hurried to my bedroom, gave Sammy a quick scratch. He was sleeping contentedly on my bed. I swapped out my yoga pants and shirt for a magenta wraparound dress, black heels and matching blazer. I’d be covered for all of my meetings and dinner.

  I moved back out to the kitchen and transferred my latte to a go cup so I wouldn’t be tempted to stop for yet another coffee. The trip into West Hollywood was full of winding roads and hills.

  I followed my GPS directions to a cute little house with a kickass view. Bethany’s Mini Cooper was already parked in the driveway. It was a testament to how excited she was about the house that she was actually on time for something.

  The Sunset Strip wasn’t too far away, which was still the mecca of all things music and fame-worthy. All in all, this was the perfect spot for her. Probably a little too perfect. She could also get into a lot of trouble out here.

  I climbed the stairs to the fifties bungalow-style house. A current Selena Gomez remix pumped from the windows even before I got to the door. I rang the bell, but when no one answered, I switched to loud knocking.

  Excited voices and the tell-tale clicking of animal feet suddenly stopped and the door opened. “Hi, Kennedy.” Bethany giggled and pushed someone behind the door. “Is it three o’clock already?”

  “It certainly is.”

  “Right. Um, well I have someone with me. I’ve been telling him all about you. I hope that’s okay.”

  I swallowed a sigh. I couldn’t count the number of times people ambushed me for a consult through one of my clients. In fact, that was the reason I had a fair number of ex-clients. “Sure.” I gave her an expectant look, but she still didn’t back up. “Can I come in?”

  “Oh, right.” Bethany laughed and stepped back, her fingers linked tightly with the man behind the door.

  Well, man was a stretch. He looked about fourteen years old though the sleeve of tattoos and open shirt tried to prove otherwise. Justin Belmont—teen sensation, troublemaker, and PR nightmare.

  Oh, hell no.

  And Bethany had hearts in her eyes.

  Wonderful.

  I stepped into the white and baby blue themed house. There were hardwood floors from wall to wall, and a view to kill for—or pay a little over a million for. It was the perfect starter house for Bethany.

  “Isn’t it just divine? Justin helped me find it. His friend Kendra is selling it. I just signed the papers.”

  Right. I bet she was his friend.

  “Did you have the house inspected?”

  “No. Should I have?” Bethany tilted her head. “What do they do?”

  Wow. Thank God, I’m not her manager. I just keep her messes out of the papers, which is a full time job, and make sure she doesn’t make too much of an ass out of herself at Hollywood functions.

  I didn’t handhold a lot of clients, but Bethany was one of my oldest, so I made a few concessions.

  “I’ll check in with Rhonda, okay?”

  “Oh, thanks. You’re the best. That’s why I was totally talking you up to Jus. He saw the articles on you and had to meet you.”

  My heart knocked against my sternum. “What articles?”

  “You were in Variety. They were talking about the best firms for public relations, and your name was listed.”

  I blew out a slow breath. That wasn’t so bad.

  “They also called you and Hunter the new ‘it’ couple.” And used air quotes for fuck’s sake.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Yeah, one sec.” She dragged Jus behind her to the table and opened her messenger bag. “I was in line at the drugstore and saw it. Can’t tell you the last time I bought a magazine I wasn’t in, but the article was pretty awesome.”

  I curled my fingers around my purse strap. The newest edition of the magazine. Oh, God. Please don’t be bad. Please don’t be awful. Please don’t be inflammatory.

  She flipped out the magazine, spine broken, and already on the right page. “See?”

  There was a picture of us splashed across two pages from the Love & Paws benefit. I was under the tree with Sammy, and Hunter was crouched in front of us with a sappy grin on his face. The caption under us read: This is how you create a power couple. Rock star + PR Princess = Magazine Royalty.

  I was pretty sure the room wasn’t spinning.

  Maybe it was me.

  Maybe I should sit down.

  “See? Can you do the same thing for me and Jus?”

  “What?” I blinked up at her. Somehow I’d managed to fall into the chair at her dining room table. Better than on my face, I suppose.

  “Read the article. They think you’ve got the magic touch for healthy relationships in Hollywood.”

  I forced myself to breathe. The words swam into focus. According to sources I’d put out various fires and showed just how perfect a couple we could be. And perhaps my services would be better suited to romance than single clients. Obviously I had the magic touch.

  Were the writers high?

  Bethany was frothing at the mouth as she explained all the upcoming parties she had with Justin. And I slowly started to see the appeal.

  Then I started to plan.

  By the time I got up to leave Justin and Bethany had an entire schedule of events that maximized their strengths as a couple and when they had to be apart. It was scary easy for me to juggle their calendars. I’d always been good at multi-tasking. It was why I was able to juggle so many clients.

  They both walked me to the door, their Morkie puppies—rescues from the benefit last week, of course—scampered after us. Bethany scooped up her little guy and buried her face in his hair. “It was meant to be from the moment we were in the same room with the dogs.”

  “I’m happy for you Bethany.” I scratched her teacup sized terrier’s little head. “And you too, Cookie.”

  Justin tucked his dog into his sweatshirt. She flipped and struggled until her little face peeked up from the
zipper. “Thank you, Kennedy.”

  “You’re welcome. Make sure you contact Courtney at Love & Paws. They’ll make sure you guys are in the next promo piece. Then I’ll have it forwarded to your social media pages. Good cause and good press for the both of you.”

  You need it was the unsung phrase after that, but I didn’t need to burst any bubbles.

  “Perfect. I’m going to tell everyone I know how amazing you are—especially with the couple stuff. Me and Jus have done nothing but ruin relationships in the past.”

  “Yeah, our careers are important, but we need time together. I don’t want to lose her.” He wrapped his other arm around Bethany. “You really helped out a lot.”

  I didn’t really want to like the kid, but I knew all too well how the press could turn situations and things said out of context into a nightmare for just about anyone. He didn’t seem like such a jerk now that I’d sat with them for an hour.

  “Thanks. Have a good night, guys.” I took her stairs down to street level and looked back. They were still in the doorway, the perfect young couple inside a house perfect for a family of their size.

  Bethany was a sweet kid, but she was the definition of high maintenance. Between the both of them it was probably going to be a disaster, but they certainly seemed happy.

  I knew how easily the happy could turn to disaster, but maybe they’d be one of the lucky ones. And just like that, Hunter was back in my head. My skin actually buzzed at the thought of him. Especially that day in San Francisco.

  I needed to get those memories back under control. I snapped on my Sirius channel and scanned through for anything to listen to. “Cathedrals” blared out of my speakers.

  “Really?” I asked the radio.

  Like it was going to answer me back. I tried to turn it off. Truly. My hand even reached to do so. Hell, I had controls on my steering wheel. But I couldn’t. I remembered the way he sang this song to the crowd. The moody start, the growling finish on his knees, and all the prowling movements in between.

  Hunter was born for the stage.

  His timing was flawless, and his animal-like grace was mesmerizing. Everything about him had been a seduction. And I’d fallen for it. An Everest level fall I might add.