by Amity Cross
The whole time we sat at that dinner, I hardly said two words back to back, which was unusual for me. Zoe kept kicking my shin under the table and giving me looks. What was I meant to do? If I opened my mouth, I was seriously gonna say something stupid.
The conversation naturally revolved around music and the band, which was my favorite topic. Seriously, I could talk about it until I was blue in the face, but right now, I was obliterated by the woman sitting opposite me. Everything she did, my gaze followed, even when I wasn’t looking at her. I’d been reduced to a fifteen-year-old, and it didn’t escape my notice that Georgie deliberately placed herself next to me and kept rubbing her arm against mine. If I edged my chair any further away, I’d be sitting on Zoe’s lap.
I got the feeling Georgie was an easy street to go down, but I had no intention of going there. She would be sorely disappointed to find out that I didn’t fit the stereotype. Besides, I had eyes for her PA, who had been looking at her boss disapprovingly all night. That was a glaring indicator right there.
When we stood outside again, I was in two minds. I wasn’t into it, but I wanted to be near Jessie.
“Are you coming out?” Simone asked, her arm linked with Chris’s arm.
“C’mon,” he said, nodding toward the waiting car. “It’ll be bloody horrible.”
That was code for ‘let’s go and laugh at the joint,’ but even then, I wasn’t sure. Part of me wanted to go out so I could have a few drinks to steady my nerves, and part of me wanted to run back to the hotel…and the huge slice that was left wanted to go so I could have a chance to talk to Jessie again.
Naturally, Zoe and Will bailed, but Frank came up behind us and pushed me into the car with Chris and Simone, making the decision for me.
Looked like I was going in headfirst.
The club was just as we expected it would be. Flashy and fake.
It had the whole red carpet and rope business. I was severely underdressed in my denim jacket, jeans, and beat-up boots, but that didn’t seem to matter. Not when Galaxy was sticking their name on it.
What else could I say about the place? Nothing that anyone wouldn’t already know. I really couldn’t care. As soon as we were inside, everyone went straight to the bar, but I hung back, my gaze following Jessie’s every move. All those smart things I’d thought up to start a conversation had fucked off somewhere else. My head was scrambled, and the loud music wasn’t helping.
I leaned against an island table, ignoring the looks a group of scantily clad orange Oompa Loompa tanned girls were throwing me.
Simone appeared beside me, putting a drink on the table in my line of vision. “Scotch,” she said when I gave her a look. “Double.”
“Thanks.”
Leaning forward on the table, my gaze inevitably went to the bar where Jessie was talking with Frank. I scowled at them, and a small part of me was annoyed at him for being so…Frank.
Simone followed my gaze and nudged me with her shoulder. “Have you talked to her?”
“She already shot me down,” I grumbled, fiddling with a coaster.
“Since when did that stop you?”
I glanced up at her and shrugged. We were good friends, but normally, I’d only talk about this stuff with Zoe. But Zoe wasn’t here.
Simone slid her arm across my back and gave me a small hug. “I get it.”
I glanced up at her with a raised eyebrow, but she just walked off into the crowd with a smile, leaving me alone.
“Dee Cosgrove.”
I looked up at the sound of a female voice. From the broad New York accent, it could only be Georgie. My first thought was here we go, and that wasn’t meant in a good way.
“Georgie,” I said politely, straightening up.
“What are you doing here on your own?”
“Enjoying some alone-in-a-crowd time.”
She smiled widely, not getting my meaning. “How have you enjoyed recording in LA so far? I hope Galaxy is doing everything we can to make your stay enjoyable.”
I knew that was a euphemism, but I chose to shudder internally and ignore it. “Recording has been fine. Short but fine.”
“You know, if there’s anything I can do for you, and I mean anything,” she said, pressing closer to me, “all you have to do is say the word.”
I tried to angle myself away, but she was…there, and I was too polite. Glancing over at the bar, I caught Jessie’s eye, and her lips quirked into a knowing smile. I coaxed my expression into one that said ‘save me,’ and she must’ve let out an exasperated sigh because her shoulders rose and fell dramatically.
“And of course, we want to take you right to the top,” Georgie was saying, her hand on my forearm and her breast jammed against my arm.
I nodded uncomfortably, watching Jessie approach out the corner of my eye.
“Dee,” came Jessie’s velvet voice. “If you have a second, I just want to ask you about tomorrow’s concert.”
Georgie stepped back glaring at her PA. “Do you have to annoy him with this now?”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I don’t mind.”
The older woman gave Jessie another glare for good measure and stalked off, disappearing into the throng of people grinding on the dance floor.
“Thanks,” I said, giving her my trademark sexy smile. “She’s a bit…”
“Sluttish?”
I snorted, stifling a laugh. “I was gonna say special, but that works.”
She looked around the club uncomfortably, probably realizing she shouldn’t have said that to someone from the band. I had no intention of ratting her out.
After a second, she smiled thinly and said, “Look, I was a bit short with you before, and I’m sorry. It’s just this business, you know?” She rolled her eyes dramatically.
“I know what you mean.”
She straightened up and held out a slender hand. “Jessie Ware.”
“Dylan Dee Cosgrove,” I said, emphasizing my nickname. When I slid my hand into hers, I almost had a heart attack. “Can I buy you a drink?” No harm in asking.
“No, thank you,” she replied with a smirk, dropping my hand.
“Damn, you really know how to shoot a guy down in two seconds flat.”
“I do my best.” Her accent sounded strange. Not quite American.
“Where are you from?” I asked, and she sank back a little, surprised.
“I’m from Montreal.”
“Canada?”
She nodded. “French-Canadian.”
“So you speak French?”
“Yes.”
I hesitated, looking over at the bar where Frank was giving me two thumbs up.
“Do you like LA?” Jessie asked, making me turn my attention back to her.
I frowned and shook my head. Best to go the honest route.
“Not your thing?” Her head cocked to the side, and I imagined running my fingers down her slender neck.
“No,” I replied kind of dazed. “I don’t like…” I couldn’t think of a nice word, so I just gestured around us at the fakery of the club.
She smiled widely, her shoulders sagging as if she was relieved. “I know what you mean.”
“I just want to play, you know? I don’t care about all this. I just…” I ran a hand over my face, suddenly embarrassed.
“It’s about music for you?” she asked. “Not the money?”
I nodded, watching her expression change, and I wondered what she was thinking. What was she in it for?
“How about that drink?” she asked, and my eyebrows rose. When I hesitated, she smiled and shook her head. “Hurry up, or I might change my mind.”
“What do you like?” I asked with a lopsided grin.
“Scotch. Straight up.”
“Really?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” She was something else.
“I don’t know that many women who like hard liquor. At least, not straight up.” And that was the truth.
“Well, you’ve met a unico
rn.”
And what a fucking unicorn she was.
Walking up to the bar, she was served almost instantaneously, and I held my fingers up at the bartender indicating we wanted two. He looked me over and shrugged. Serve the pretty girl and try to pick her up? Not while I was around. I watched Jessie as she stood next to me, trying to figure out what she was thinking, but she was a closed book.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, scowling at me. Like she didn’t know.
I grinned knowingly at her and asked, “Are you coming to the show tomorrow?” We had a gig at a local rock venue, and it was the one ray of light in the blackness of recording. That was until Jessie Ware had turned up.
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Really?” I asked as our drinks were placed in front of us. I handed the guy a twenty without taking my gaze from Jessie. At least, I hoped it was a twenty.
She turned to face me, a scowl marring her features. “Why are you always surprised? Everything I say you come back with ‘really?’ I’m not sure how to take it.”
I leaned against the bar, studying the contents of my glass. “It’s just... You surprise me.”
“How?”
How? How could I explain that every single word that came out of her mouth embedded itself in my heart without coming off like a creep? I snorted and shook my head. I’d have to ask Will about that one.
“What?” she asked again and thumped me in the arm, the contact sending my body straight to a dirty place.
“You’re with the label,” I began, my gaze running over her face and over her tattooed arm. “I expected Georgie, but I didn’t expect you.”
A look flashed in her eyes that I didn’t understand, and she shrank back, downing the last of her scotch. “Thanks for the drink,” she said, dumping the empty glass on the bar and just walked away, merging into the crowd.
I straightened up, running a hand through my hair, my heart thumping erratically in my chest.
What the hell did I say?
Chapter 4
Jessie
Dee Cosgrove was not the kind of guy I was expecting him to be.
From the short conversation I’d had with him, he seemed down to earth. He even seemed to have the same thoughts about the whole label facade as I did. I couldn’t deny that I found him attractive, but his comment about the club not being his thing had sparked my interest.
“I can’t believe it,” Georgie declared, throwing her head back against the seat.
I had to ride with her back to the hotel, or I was positive she wouldn’t get there. To think the woman was my boss…the shining example I was meant to mold myself into. Unlikely.
When I didn’t answer, she said, “That Dee Cosgrove is damn fine. I can’t believe he wasn’t interested.”
I knew from the band’s promo material that he was ten years younger than her. Twenty-five. A year older than me. “Maybe he has a girlfriend?” I offered, suddenly wondering myself.
“That’s never stopped them before, honey.”
I tried not to throw up in my mouth and just shrugged. Oh, I don’t know. Maybe he had class? Georgie glared at me and let out a dramatic sigh, taking out her cell.
As much as I wanted to, I would never talk back to her. She was my boss, and even though I worked unpaid, she had the power to oust me from Galaxy and every other label in the country. I’d be lucky to get a job bussing tables at a Hard Rock Café if I pissed her off. I knew what was good for me even if she didn’t.
Georgie might be a huge slut, but she was good at her job, and she got results. People were afraid of her and rightly so. She was a massive diva, and if she didn’t get her way, then she was the kind of person who would relish in getting people fired for messing up her lunch order.
“He was all over you,” she declared suddenly.
“I don’t go there. You know that.”
She scoffed loudly, flinging her cell back into her bag. “If I can’t fuck him, then you may as well.”
I almost choked only own spit. “Georgie!”
“You’re all so goodie two shoes,” she slurred. “News flash, Jessie-J. If you want to get to where I am, you need to uncross those legs of yours.” She slapped my knee.
I felt my face redden, and my eyes flickered to the driver, but he didn’t flinch. At least someone in this car was professional.
“I saw the way he was looking at you.”
“Well,” I said firmly, “I don’t go there, so I’m just going to keep my legs together.”
She looked me up and down resentfully, shaking her head, her shaggy dyed black hair sticking to her face. When she slumped down into the seat again, it was back into a sullen silence, and I was grateful she’d let it drop for now.
Without her irritating drunk conversation to fill the silence, my mind went to that obvious place, the one where I wondered what it would be like to kiss Dee Cosgrove. Whether he tasted as sweet as he came across as or if he was dirty and wicked.
I swallowed hard. I could not be having these thoughts.
I didn’t sleep with guys to have a good time or to further my career. I wasn’t like that. He lived in Australia. I lived in New York. If I were fucking Dee Cosgrove, it would be in a relationship, and that was not going to work. For one, I didn’t even know the guy.
All these dirty thoughts were counterproductive. I just had to let it drop and get through the next few days with my integrity intact.
Dee Cosgrove was a client.
Nothing more.
Chapter 5
Dee
Since Zoe had moved out of our hotel room to stay with Will, I was alone with myself, and that wasn’t a good thing.
By the time she stopped by the next morning, I was bouncing off the walls, flipping channels on the telly and scribbling in my notebook, anything to keep my mind off the inevitable.
Letting her in, I scanned the hallway behind her. “What, no lover boy?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I let him sleep in after his crappy flight. He’ll be at the gig later. Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
She gave me a look, which was all she ever seemed to do lately.
“What?” I grumbled. “You know me. I’m a loose cannon without an audience.”
“Okay,” she said with an air of whatever and flung my denim jacket at me. “We’re on the clock. Let’s get going.”
We had a photo shoot to endure this morning before going to sound check later on. Galaxy had wrangled us a last-minute page in the upcoming issue of Rolling Stone, and it had to be done today or not at all. Massive exposure but one of my least favorite things to do. You would think for someone with a vain streak like mine I’d be all over it like a rash, but I was hotter for a stage and an audience, not a single photographer. Numbers was where it was at.
Zoe and I rode the elevator down to the hotel foyer in silence, which was strange for us. We usually had so much to talk about, and most of it was usually crap.
“What’s with the lack of decibels, Dee Dee?” she asked, signaling her brain waves were in tune with mine.
I shrugged, my usual upbeat nature gone out the window.
“How was the club last night?”
“Terrible,” I muttered.
“And?”
“And what?”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Talk to who?” I asked, knowing full well who she was referring to.
“Jessie.”
My jaw tensed. She had to go and say her name, didn’t she?
“What happened?”
“Yeah, I talked to her,” I said. “Georgie tried it on, and Jessie came to save me.”
“Bloody Georgie.” Zoe laughed. “That woman is merciless.”
“And almost ten years older than me.”
“Don’t you wanna be her boy toy?” She made a kissy face, and I laughed at her lame joke, circling an arm around her neck and pulling her into my side.
“In her drea
ms.” At least I was in someone’s dreams.
“What about your dreams?”
“Shit, Zoe.” I cursed as the elevator door slid open with a ding.
As we walked out into the foyer where Chris, Simone, and Frank were waiting for us, she pulled away and thumped me on the arm.
“Ow, what was that for?”
“Don’t have such a defeatist attitude. That’s anti-Dee. I don’t know who you are.”
“Ugh.” I rolled my eyes. “Let’s just get through this shoot. You know I’m my best on my own turf. I’ll win her through music.” I added a wink for good measure.
We rode in two separate town cars over to the studio, and the closer we got, the more my stomach churned, and by the time we actually arrived, I was a quivering mess. The only thing that saved me from being found out was that everyone was excited about the gig later on.
When we inevitably ran into Georgie, it was sans Jessie and disappointment flared, stabbing me right where it hurt.
As soon as we were all there, we were dragged in separate directions, and I didn’t have time to dwell. Apparently, we were on a tight schedule, and I just wanted to get outta there. An overzealous Georgie pushed me into a chair in front of a mirror, and I caught Zoe and Simone looking at me in the reflection, both of them stifling laughs. This wasn’t funny by a mile, and all it did was make my blood boil.
The redheaded stylist grimaced as if she already knew what I was about to endure, and I offered her a thin smile. Hurricane Georgie was a category five, and there was no indication she’d stop anytime soon.
“Now,” Georgie declared, “hair messy and slicked back.” She took this as an excuse to run both her hands through my hair, her gaze fixed on mine in the mirror. How the hell couldn’t she see that I was looking back with a mixture of horror and revulsion?
“And this stubble has to go,” she said, running a hand over my jaw.
Shit, I was just sitting there like a deer caught in the headlights of the Georgie show while she pawed me like a horny teenager. I was way too nice to tell her hands off. A snort came from behind, and I glared at Zoe and Simone in the mirror. Frank and Chris had joined them, and they were all red faced, trying to keep their laughter in check. Fucking traitors. They were enjoying my suffering, and the jokes I would have to endure afterward would be epic.