by M. H. Soars
“Sorry for the delay. I got stuck in traffic.” Allan sits down without making eye contact with any of us. “This is Teresa Wallace, and Garin Burton.”
We all wait for Allan to add on to that, but he seems flustered and oblivious to our confusion. He was the one who scheduled the meeting in the first place, but he was also pretty vague about it. He just said we would discuss Wreck of the Day’s marketing plan, whatever that meant.
Garin and Teresa stare at Allan for a moment, before Garin turns to us. “Well, I’m Garin Burton, Marketing and PR consultant and this is Teresa Wallace, ow—”
“I can speak for myself, Garin,” Teresa cuts him off. “I’m Teresa Wallace, owner and CEO of Stellar Image Consulting.”
The job title drips from her mouth like she just announced she’s the freaking queen of England. Her long, shiny ebony hair doesn’t have a strand out of place. Her pale face is covered with heavy make-up, a vain attempt to hide the fine lines on the sides of her mouth and forehead. Her dark gaze roams over each of us, scrutinizing and calculating. Sudden annoyance sours my mood. I glare at Allan, willing him to look up from his phone to see how pissed off I am. There’s nothing wrong with our look to warrant an image consultant.
Silence prevails until Garin turns to Allan. “Um, do you want me to start?”
Allan finally glances up, but he still seems distracted. “What? Yeah, sure.”
I don’t like one bit his obvious lack of interest in this meeting. I hope he’s just having a bad day and he will get over it soon enough. Garin fires up his computer and a PowerPoint presentation appears on the big white wall at the end of the long table. I turn my attention to what the short man is saying, ignoring the feeling of discomfort in my belly.
After an hour of Garin talking about the launch of Wreck of the Day, he turns the floor to Teresa. She opens a leather-covered notebook and addresses all of us.
“Before I even start talking about my plans for the band’s image, let me make something very clear. You all need a makeover.”
The hairs on the back of my neck bristle, and I prepare for a fight, but Tabatha speaks first.
“The hell we do.”
Tabatha’s outburst is loud enough to wake up Allan from whatever far away land he had been for the past hour. He sits straighter on his chair while Teresa raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow at Tabatha.
“Are you gay?” she asks.
“Excuse me?” Tabatha narrows her eyes.
“Are you a lesbian? Do you like to eat pussy?” Teresa continues nonplused.
Tabatha is one second from launching herself across the table and tackling the annoying bitch to the ground.
“Tabatha doesn’t fancy chicks, not that that’s any of your business,” I say.
“Oh, it is my business. Everything you do is my business. I’m not a glorified stylist. I own one of the best image consulting companies in the country. My job is to make sure your image sells music. That includes not only clothing and hair style, but positioning, who you are associated with, etc. Show business is all about perception. Tabatha’s clothes and hairstyle are screaming lesbian at me. It would be fine if she were, but since she isn’t according to you, I don’t want to give your future fans the wrong idea.”
“I’m not gay,” Tabatha says through clenched teeth.
“Then we need to change your look. There’s nothing to be done about your hair length. It’s too short and extensions would look ridiculous. You’ll have to let it grow out. But we can definitely do something about your clothes.”
Tabatha looks down at her patchwork dress. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“The question is what isn’t wrong with them.” Teresa turns her attention to Sticks who as usual, is hiding under a baseball cap. “You, Sticks, right? Could you please remove your hat? I can’t see your face.”
Sticks does as Teresa asks, obviously not wanting to cause more drama. Her brown hair is pulled back in a pony tail and her face is devoid of any make-up. Her warm olive skin is flawless. I’m not the only one in the room staring at Sticks. Garin can’t hide his admiration, whereas Allan is looking at Sticks through slits, as if he’s trying to place her. I can’t believe he has not recognized her yet.
“Oh my God, what’s wrong with you?” Teresa bursts out, and Sticks becomes smaller in her seat. “And here I thought I had to call my plastic surgeon. Why in the world would you hide your face under that ugly hat?”
“I, uh…” Sticks sputters.
“No more baseball caps for you. I want the world to see you.”
Sticks glances at me in panic. It’s as if the hat is not a mere accessory, but a shield. Maybe Sticks is hiding from the world.
“The baseball cap is her signature look. She’s gonna keep it,” I say.
“Absolutely not! Over my dead body,” Teresa shouts.
“Then you’d better start organizing your funeral.” I stand up, ready to put an end to this idiotic meeting.
“She can keep the hat,” Allan says and Teresa turns her murderous gaze in his direction.
“I won’t have you question my judgment. I’m the best for a reason. If they won’t follow what I say, then I’m afraid I can’t work with them.”
Allan takes a deep breath and leans his elbow on the table. “Fine. You can leave.”
“What?” Bitch-face was obviously not expecting that. “Are you firing me?”
“Yup. Your services are no longer required.”
The woman glares at everyone present before standing up with all the dignity she can muster. “That’s what I get for agreeing to work for a bunch of amateurs.”
“Bye, Felicia.” Tabatha waves at her.
The air becomes lighter with Teresa gone, but not by much. I’m keen to start working on our single with Scott Rowan. Music is all that really matters to me and all this business and image nonsense has drained my energy. I need something positive to look forward to.
“So when can we expect to meet Scott?” I ask.
“Soon, I promise. He has a few commitments this month. Meanwhile, I’ve arranged a moving company to transfer your equipment to the studio in the headquarters. Oh, and we want to record your first single next week.” Allan types something on his phone.
“I thought our first single was going to be with Scott,” Remi says.
“No,” Garin replies. “As I said in my presentation, it’s best if your first single is not the collaboration. We want you to be already on the road to success when we release the single with Scott.”
“Oh, I guess I spaced out for a moment.”
“I didn’t agree to the move. We’re fine practicing at Tabatha’s place.” I cross my arms.
“Uh, no we are not.” Remi turns to Tabatha. “No offense, Tabby, but that garage gets hot.”
“I’m sure my folks will love to get their garage back.” Tabatha throws me an apologetic glance.
I clench my jaw and glare at the glass of water in front of me. I guess this is a battle I can’t win.
After the meeting with Allan and Garin, I head to Liv’s place. I haven’t see her since the wedding, and I vowed to spend as much time as I can with the people I love.
She looks as radiant as I thought she would. Her happiness is like a beacon of light and she can’t stop smiling. She tells me everything about her honeymoon, and I listen with a grin of my own, even if it’s not as happy as hers. The ache in my chest is still too raw for that.
“Is it going to be hard working for Ollie, Blue?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. He’s been surprisingly mature about it. We’re maintaining a strict business relationship.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Liv stares at me knowingly and I look away.
“It will be fine.”
“I’ll pretend I believe you. Now, let’s talk about something else. I have a huge favor to ask you.”
I turn to her again. The chipper tone of her voice makes me curious. “Okay?”
“You know th
at Reinhardt Corp. throws this huge charity gala every year, right?”
Reinhardt Corp. is where Liv has been working since she got fired from the Hollingsworth hotel—thanks to the Sebastian mess. It’s owned by our friend Rodrigo’s family, and even though he doesn’t like to get involved in the hiring process, he was the one who referred Liv for the job.
“Yes, Rodrigo always complains he has to attend the party. He says it’s super boring.” I narrow my eyes at her. “How come I have the feeling I’m not going to like what you have to say?”
Liv bites her lip and glances down at her lap. “The band my boss hired for it cancelled yesterday. He called me, panicked, asking for my help, even though I’m still on vacation.”
“What a jerk.”
“No. That was awesome. It means he’s relying on me more and more.”
Liv looks so enthusiastic I don’t have the heart to say her boss is being a huge prick and he’s taking advantage of her.
“Anyway, I suggested Wreck of the Day.” She peers at me through her thick eyelashes, her gaze expectant.
“Oh, Liv. The songs we play are not the kind those people expect.”
She reaches out and touches my arm. “No. That’s where you are wrong. We’ve decided to do something fun this year for a change. Wreck of the Day will be perfect. Please, Blue. Say you will talk to the girls. It would be mean so much to me.”
“Oh, I’m sure they won’t say no. But I have to check with Allan first. I don’t know if we’re still allowed to book our own gigs.”
“If he makes a stink, I’ll ask Oliver.”
My spine goes rigid. “Please, don’t. I’m sure Allan will be okay with it.”
Eleven
OLIVER
Going to a stuffy charity gala feels like I just took ten steps back. But again, I’m here of my own free will, so maybe I should look at the situation as evolution not regression. At least, the venue is cool. It’s my first time at The Los Angeles County Museum of Art, known as LACMA and at night, visitors get the full blast effect of the rows of California’s lampposts in front of the museum’s building.
There’s a line of expensive cars in front of the place, waiting their turn to spit out the wealthiest people in town. I would be one of those clowns if Allan hadn’t convinced me to take an Uber instead that dropped us off just before the line of cars started. I wish I could also avoid the red carpet and the step and repeat, but that will go against the brilliant marketing plan Garin has devised.
I didn’t want Wreck of the Day to perform at a charity event. That’s not the image we want to sell. They are a kickass rock band, not background music. I could have said no to Saylor. Actually, I’m looking forward for us to clash in the future. But I couldn’t say no to Liv. So here we are. Garin’s plan is to hold off any announcement Renegades Productions have signed the band. Instead, the story is that Allan and I attended this charity event, saw the girls playing, and we were hooked.
What I want to avoid is people linking Saylor to the mysterious girl caught in my arms in Hawaii. None of the paparazzi pictures were that clear. I want everyone to love Wreck of the Day for their awesome music, and not think they got a break because I was screwing the lead singer. It’s fucking naïve, I know. We’ll see how Garin’s brilliant plan will work out.
I put on a show for the cameras as quickly as I can and enter the building. Saylor should already be there and I’m jonesing to catch a glimpse of her. I’ve avoided her since she came to my house to yell at me. I want her to think I’m only interested in a business relationship, something that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Allan and I make our part and socialize for a while before we disappear to the green room where the band is lounging. My eyes immediately seek out Saylor and I find her in a corner talking animatedly with a tall bloke I’ve never seen before. Jealousy shows its ugly head and my impulse is to stride toward her and mark my territory. But that would be crazy, Saylor is not mine, not yet anyway. I have to keep it cool. So I take my time before I approach them.
When Saylor notices my presence, she tenses up visibly. However, I don’t miss the elevator glance she gives me. I’m wearing a jacket and a tie. I bet she’s remembering the last time she saw me in formal wear and how that evening ended for us.
“Good evening,” I say.
The bloke talking to Saylor turns upon hearing my voice and gives me a genuine smile.
“Hi. So you’re the infamous Oliver Best I’ve heard so much about.”
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow at Saylor.
She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Not from me.”
Ignoring her sharp response, I shake hands with the guy. My jealousy dials down a notch when I don’t sense any challenge in his demeanor. He’s not after Saylor.
“The one and only. And you are?” I ask.
“Rodrigo Reinhardt.”
“So, this event…”
“Organized by my family’s company. Please don’t say it aloud, though. I try my best to fly under the radar at such events. Pompous shenanigans are not my thing.”
I like this guy already.
“So, you’ve met before?” I look from him to Saylor.
“Yes. I went to high school with Emma, Saylor’s former roommate. The girls adopted me in a sense.”
A striking brunette makes her way to Rodrigo and drapes her arm around his, totally staking her claim. She purposely ignores Saylor, as if she’s not even there. She looks at me, and I know the instant that she recognizes me. I pray she won’t be one of those birds who can’t be around celebrities.
I notice the difference between Rodrigo and his date. Whereas Rodrigo seems to be a laidback bloke, this girl screams entitlement. She greets me with a simple hello, then she turns to Rodrigo.
“We should head back to the party, honey. Your mother would want you to socialize.”
Rodrigo’s shoulders slouch forward as if her request is a burden to him. “I suppose. It was nice to meet you, Oliver.” He turns to Saylor. “Break a leg, Blue. I’m super stoked Wreck of the Day is playing tonight.”
His date frowns and flattens her lips before she drags him back to the party. Once they are out of earshot, I glance at Saylor. “Wow. Talk about controlling females.”
Saylor sighs. “I really don’t like that girl. Rodrigo deserves better than that gold digger.”
“You, maybe?”
My comment earns me a glare from her. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Rodrigo is like a brother to me.”
“Good to know,” I say and regret immediately. Shit, there goes me keeping my cool.
“I should get ready for the show.”
I’m not done with Saylor yet, so I scramble for something to say. “Are you playing any of your new songs?”
She looks at me, confused. “Uh, no. Allan said you didn’t want us to.”
Oh, shit. That’s right. Fuck. I can’t keep my head straight when she’s around.
“I like the look you have going.” I let my gaze drop down the length of her body, taking my time appreciating every single edge and curve of her.
Saylor glances down at her vintage 50s style dress which she paired with spiked heels. Total badass and the ensemble is giving me a boner already. I wish I could drag her to a private room and taste her cherry colored lips, feel her hand on my cock. Fuck. I need a cold shower now.
She shrugs. “Couldn’t go all rock and roll on this crowd.”
She begins to walk away but I place a hand on her naked forearm, stopping her. I see when goose bumps break out on her skin, and I hear her sharp intake of breath. Her beautiful eyes connect with mine and for a brief moment, there’s heat and want in her gaze. I know I’m not imagining things. I take a step closer and lean forward so I can whisper in her ear. “You look amazing and you’re going to kick ass out there.”
I step away with difficulty. All my instincts are demanding I pull her closer to me for at least a kiss. It takes all of my self
control to plaster a grin on my lips instead. Whatever is keeping her away from me, it’s not lack of interest on her part. I didn’t read her wrong in Hawaii, I didn’t imagine the look of longing she gave me during Liv and Sebastian’s wedding, nor the way she sang to me. She has fallen as hard as I have. But she’s too stubborn and she won’t tell me what’s going on in her pretty head. I will find out one way or another, though. Without making a comment to my remark, she scurries away, joining Tabatha on the opposite side of the room.
I go back to the reception area, making a beeline to the nearest bar to order a drink. My heart is in over drive, my cock is still hard. I need to calm the fuck down. I order a double shot of whiskey and drink the whole thing in one gulp. Not enough. I order another one. The bartender is a pro and doesn’t make any indication that my behavior is unacceptable. It’s not until I have the second double shot that I start to feel more in control. That’s when I notice a manicured hand on the counter. Curious, I turn to peer at my neighbor and I have to do a double take. The blonde woman next to me could have been Saylor’s twin. She notices my stare and glances in my direction. Okay, she’s not a total carbon copy, but similar enough to warrant my reaction. She has the same nose and high cheekbones, but her lips are not as full as Saylor’s and her eyes are brown, instead of aquamarine blue. Her hair is also a darker shade of blonde.
“Hello, I don’t think we’ve met,” she says. “I’m Vanessa Holloway.”
I blink a couple of times to get rid of my stupor. Even the voice is similar. Jesus fucking Christ. What was in that drink?
“Oliver Best,” I finally say.
She narrows her eyes for a brief second and the small hairs on my neck rise. Her shrewd gaze is giving me the creeps. I can’t believe I had her confused with Saylor even for a second.
“Oliver Best, the boy band singer,” she continues.
“Yes, the one and only.”
“I didn’t peg you to be the kind of guy who enjoyed events like these.”
“I was roped in.”