by Mika Lane
Oh. Shit.
She continued. “You and I will be working closely together, but if you’re not comfortable with the arrangement and would prefer another paralegal, that can be arranged.”
“Oh. Okay, cool, Maizy.” I was sure to say it slowly and carefully. “Let’s do it.”
“You sure?” she asked.
I sat back in my seat and sized her up. I felt bad about insulting her.
“I am very sorry,” I said.
“It’s okay.” The ramrod stiffness holding her up relaxed a bit, and the air in the room flowed again. “Now, shall we get started?”
We went back and forth for about twenty minutes. She asked me a million questions about the complaint I had against the record label, and then we poured over the massive stack of different contracts I had with them.
Shit, why wasn’t my manager handling this for me?
Because he was the one who got me into this situation to begin with. I could strangle the jerk. As it was, I’d avoided his calls and texts for two weeks. That’s how pissed I was with him. I’d talk to him again, eventually, but not until I was damn good and ready.
And I kind of liked knowing he was probably sweating his job. That would teach him to sell me out.
To be honest, legal talk bored me to tears. I mean, didn’t it bore everyone? Except lawyers? And paralegals, I supposed. While Maizy jabbered on concerning some shit I could have cared less about—just get me the results I wanted—I had the chance to admire her.
She was fucking beautiful with her perfect skin and high cheekbones. I loved that she had this mass of sexy blonde hair, but that she had those heavy, dark nerd glasses that were so in vogue.
If anyone had told me a few years ago that hot blondes would someday be wearing those specs, I never would have believed it.
Her dress was this light blue color, nice and snug from what I could see, with long, fitted sleeves. Her tits strained against the fabric, and while I tried my damnedest not to stare, every time she looked down at her papers, my gaze wandered back to them.
She closed her folder and leaned back in her chair.
Was she finally going to lighten up a bit?
Wonder if she wanted to get a drink later? Eh, she was probably married to some asshole lawyer. Or doctor.
“Thanks for this info, Brade. I think you have a strong case. We’re going to take good care of you. The brands using your music will have to stop, but they’ll also expect their money back from the royalties they paid. If all goes according to plan, the record label will have to absorb that.”
Yes.
I extended my hand. “Thank you. And again, sorry I didn’t know who you were at first.”
She shrugged. “That’s okay. It happens.” She stood to escort me out.
“You know, I was in a band in college,” she said.
Holy fuck.
Was she kidding?
“Get outta here,” I said, nodding. “That’s pretty badass. I didn’t know lawyer types—I mean, paralegal types—were rockers.”
“Well, Brade, you don’t know much about people in the legal profession, do you?”
Apparently, I didn’t. But I was sure as hell ready to learn.
Chapter 5
Maizy
God, what a douche Brade Darby turned out to be. Not that I was surprised.
The firm had done some work the year before with a late-night talk show host. I didn’t work on that client, and the people who did were not allowed to tell the rest of us who it was. But apparently, he was a total dickhead, too. I guessed that sort of thing was rampant among entertainers.
Lucky for me, most of the clients I dealt with were boring, old business people. Rich business people but still boring as hell. Which was fine. It kept the drama to a minimum.
But when I told Brade I’d been in a band in my college years, he looked at me differently. I guess that’s why I told him—so he’d see me as more than a law firm stiff. Not sure why I cared other than I wanted to be one of the cool kids, too.
Of course, he had no idea how bad my band was. I mean, I went to a crummy little college in a crummy little town in West Virginia. It’s not like there was much competition.
But he didn’t need to know that.
I was quite sure, as he followed me to the door, that his eyes would have burned a hole in the back of my dress if he’d had anything to say about it. Thank god, I’d worn my Spanx.
And Brade the rocker wasn’t so bad looking himself. He sort of had a Kurt Cobain thing going on with messy shoulder-length blond hair, a little facial scruff, and gray-ish eyes. He didn’t smile a lot, but when he did, he had a dimple on one side of his face. Pretty damn cute, if you asked me.
Anyway, what a dumbass he was to assume I was a secretary. Although, that wasn’t the first time. Wish I could have told him to kiss my ass. But in the world of working with clients, you kept thoughts like that to yourself.
Before he left, he gave me his cell number.
“We have a private show this week at a little place in Chelsea. Text me, and I’ll leave your name at the door.”
I glanced at his low-slung jeans, which showed off a very flat stomach framed by a huge rock-style belt buckle. My eyes wandered lower to further check things out…
“Oh, wow, that’s really nice. Thank you.” I doubted I’d take him up on the offer, but then a free concert was a free concert.
“And bring your husband. Or boyfriend,” he said.
“Oh, I don’t have—”
But before I could finish, he’d looked at me over his shoulder, winked, and was gone.
Shit.
I’d fallen for his trick. Now he knew I was single.
The question was, was he?
I went back to my desk, passing Eva’s office. I was in luck. She was on the phone and had swiveled her chair away from the desk to face the floor-to-ceiling window. She was gesturing wildly, and through her closed door, I could hear her loud, animated voice. I rushed by before she turned around and saw me.
Sparkle had thoughtfully sent me a couple more matchmaking agencies to get in touch with. I looked them up on my computer, all the while with an eye on Eva’s door. I never knew when she’d come flying out, ready to berate me for something.
“Thank you for calling the Tuscan Group,” a voice crooned.
Sounded like a travel agency.
“Um, hi. My name is Maizy Strong—”
“Yes, Miss Strong?”
“Well, I wanted to talk to someone about your…” I looked around to make sure no one could hear me, “matchmaking services.” I’d whispered the last few words when the guy from the mailroom came barreling through.
“Let me email you some forms to fill out, Miss Strong. As soon as you send them back with three photos—current photos, please—we’ll get you set up in the database.”
Sounded easy enough. “How long does it take to get dates?” Shit, that sounded bad. I hoped I hadn’t disqualified myself by revealing too much desperation. But my review was coming like a freight train, and Eva never hesitated to hang it over my head.
“Well, that depends on you. How fast can you get your forms back to us?” God, she was cheerful. She probably had first pick of all the guys who came into the place. Kind of like working in a store, where you got to see the new merchandise before anybody else.
I craned my neck. Eva was still bitching somebody out. Probably her unfortunate husband.
“I can fill them out now.” Why not?
“Super! I’ll get them right over to you. As soon as we get you in the database, you’ll start receiving emails about your matches.”
Sounded so easy. What had I been waiting for? I should have done it ages ago.
“Oh, before you go,” I said, “how much does all this cost?” I held my breath.
Please don’t be too crazy.
“We have a couple different packages. If you sign up for an entire year, you get a twenty-five percent discount. If you go month-to-mo
nth, it’s a bit more.”
“How much more?”
Papers shuffled in the background. She had to look it up? Didn’t they get questions like this all the time?
Maybe they based the price on how desperate they thought you were.
“It’s one thousand dollars a month.”
Huh?
She didn’t say a thousand dollars, did she?
“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?” I asked.
“Yes, of course. It’s one thousand dollars a month. Unless you sign on for a full year.”
Oh. I didn’t have a year to wait.
She continued, “Along with the forms, I’ll send over a credit card authorization form.”
Of course. A thousand dollars for a few dates? I wasn’t sure that even meeting the man of my dreams was worth a thousand dollars.
“Thank you, Miss Strong. I’ll be on the lookout for your forms.”
If she mentioned the forms one more time, I would have exploded.
“Spark, I don’t know why you couldn’t have worn something a bit more modest?” Our Uber driver tore across the city toward Chelsea, where we’d be catching Brade’s show, blasting through almost every red light. I should have taken the bus. I’d rather get mugged than die in a Honda Accord.
Yes, I’d caved and texted Brade. How often was it one was offered VIP tickets to see a major rock star?
If you were me, never.
“Uh, Maiz, there is nothing wrong with how I’m dressed. I just like to show off a little.” She sniffed and looked out the car window, the streetlamps flashing light, then dark, then light again on her annoyed face.
I don’t know why I cared. Her halter-top was open nearly to her navel, but it wasn’t my problem. If she bent forward, the girls would be out for the world to see.
Like I said, it wasn’t my problem.
There was a line out in front of the club, but the driver dropped us where the velvet rope started. A huge bouncer—were there any bouncers who weren’t huge?—was evaluating the breast sizes of the women waiting to get in.
We walked right up to him like we had the biggest tits in the city. Which, of course, we did not.
The moment of truth. Had Brade really left our names at the door? Or would we be humiliated and told to get at the end of the line like the average Joes we really were?
I’d be heading back home if that happened. No way was I waiting in line if we didn’t get right in. In fact, I had my finger on the Uber app, ready to cut my losses and go home to a nice bubble bath.
But magically, the velvet ropes parted. We were in. I think it might have had something to do with Sparkle leaning forward and letting her boobs hang out, because bouncer guy didn’t even look up our names on the list. In fact, I wasn’t sure there even was a list. But who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth?
The club was dark and sexy, just like I knew it would be, with small groups of people in clusters of clubby-looking sofas and chairs. They were all amazingly good-looking and wearing the coolest clothes—the women wearing not much at all, and the guys in dark-wash jeans and T-shirts that looked like they’d been starched to within an inch of their lives.
Sparkle and I elbowed our way up to the bar, and she ordered us a couple fancy cocktails, because I guess that’s what you did at a place like that. A beer or glass of wine would clearly have been way too common for people like us who’d been invited to party with celebs.
“Well, if it isn’t my lawyer,” a voice said from behind me.
Sparkle and I whipped around and there stood Brade in all his rocker glory—those sexy as hell low-slung jeans and a leather vest with no shirt underneath. His arms were covered in a crazy assortment of tattoos that I couldn’t make out in the dim light, but his gray eyes and smile were front and center.
For me.
Okay, play it cool, girl. Heads were turning to stare at him, but the looky-loos were too cool to approach him. Which worked just perfect, for me.
“Brade!” I said, like I hung out with rock stars every day. I even leaned forward and did the air-kiss thing.
I got this shit.
My sister stuck her hand out, almost hitting me with it. I could swear she arched her back a little so her tits were more prominent.
More power to ya, girl.
“I’m Sparkle, Maizy’s sister.”
Holy shit, did her nipples just get hard? How did she do that?
When Brade extended his hand back, Sparkle pulled him into an air kiss just like I’d done. He air kissed her right back. Stars probably did that all the time.
He looked back at me, barely noticing Sparkle. Geez. That never happened.
“I’m not your lawyer, Brade,” I said with a smile.
“Oh, right. Well, whatever you are, you’re straightening out my legal matters. I appreciate that.”
He really didn’t need to thank me. I’m sure he was paying out the nose for my firm’s services.
“You’re very welcome, and thank you for inviting my sister and me.”
“Always glad to have a couple beautiful women come see the show.”
Just then a guy turned up next to him.
Shit, he had a twin?
“Ladies, this is my brother Penn.”
I couldn’t stop looking back and forth between the two. How was it the universe made two of the same perfect creatures?
Penn broke into a smile with a couple of the deepest dimples I’d ever seen. Brade had only gotten one, but it looked like his brother had cleaned up.
And Spark was a sucker for dimples.
“Nice to meet you both. Sisters, I guess?”
Sparkle giggled like a maniac. I’d have to talk to her about that later.
“Yup, we’re sisters. I’m the fun one, and Maizy here is the brainy one,” she announced.
Christ, why didn’t she just say I was an ugly old maid virgin? What a shit. Heat crept up over my face, starting at my neck. My fingers crossed that in the dark, it would not be noticeable.
Note to self: kill sister later.
“Penn, I’ve never been to this club. Want to show me around a bit?” Sparkle asked in what I called her fuck me voice.
Bitch was deserting me. I’d get her later.
They wandered off, Sparkle’s hand holding the crook of Penn’s elbow. Wait ‘til he found out she had a pet rat.
That left Brade and me. He pushed his fingers back through his hair and looked at the stage.
“Hey, I gotta finish setting up. Want to come backstage and hang out?” he asked.
Holy shit. Um, yeah.
“I’d love to. But before you turn around, there seems to be a fan behind you. A big fan. She looks like she wants to eat you,” I whispered.
“Shit. That happens from time to time. Will you help me?”
Huh? “Um, yeah. I guess.”
His lips were suddenly on mine, and damn if I didn’t almost fall over from the thrill. He grasped the back of my head enough to let me feel his power, but not enough to make me feel like I couldn’t tell him to go to hell.
I wasn’t about to tell him to go to hell in case you were wondering.
He pulled back from our kiss—dammit—and pulled me to him with an arm tight around my shoulders. We started walking toward the stage, his gaze on the floor so he could politely ignore anyone looking at him.
So that was how they did it.
The wanna-be stalker stepped aside to let us part, still wearing her crazy-hungry look, and the others who’d noticed him continued to stare discreetly, quickly looking away when he got close.
Maybe he wasn’t the douche I’d thought he was, and maybe I wasn’t the boring-ass paralegal he thought I was.
Chapter 6
Cato
I hated my job more than anything I’d ever hated. It was sucking the life out of me. Dreary work for law firm clients who got themselves in all sorts of ridiculous trouble. Day in and day out. Yeah, I got paid a shit-ton of money for what I did, but I’d never felt
like such a useless human being in my life.
But no one knew that. I was the perfect employee and the perfect corporate suck-up. I deserved an award for my great acting. No one knew my true feelings.
Not even my one friend at work, Maizy. Beautiful, amazing Maizy.
Lots of people in the office thought they were my friends. I got invited to weddings, bar mitzvahs, and had even attended a few funerals. I went to their Super Bowl parties, played on the softball team, and even did karaoke when the situation demanded it.
But I hated it all. And I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it up.
“Hey, you ready for lunch?” Maizy asked, her head poking into my office.
She was goddamn stunning, as usual, with her hair in long blonde waves. She wore what she called her “work uniform”—a slim black dress, insanely high pointy black pumps, and a string of pearls. Even those goofy black glasses were gorgeous on her.
Yeah, I had a crush on Maizy.
Actually, I think I was even a little in love with her. But she didn’t know it.
Like I said, I was one of the world’s best actors. No one knew what went on in the secret world of Cato. And that’s just how I liked it and planned to keep it.
“Yeah, let’s go,” I said, gladly leaving a boring-ass memo I was in the middle of for the senior partner I worked for. It was fine—I was ahead of schedule.
That was one of the reasons they loved me there at the firm. I was never late with any of my work, and it was always done to perfection. Little did they know how much I detested the long hours I spent there.
Anyway.
The one thing that helped me get through each week was lunch with Maizy. I looked forward to it all week long. Shit, I looked forward to it all weekend long. Sometimes, it was all I could think about. But I couldn’t date anyone from work. It just wasn’t done.
Not that she’d date me, anyway. You see, I was a former fat kid.
Now, I worked out five times a week. I was in great shape, actually had been since I realized in my freshman year of college that if I ever wanted a girl to give me the time of day, I needed to shed my baby fat and put on some muscle. So I started hanging out in the gym and learned about weights and so forth. Lost the weight pretty quickly. I wish I could say I never looked back.