by JA Low
“He’s not at all what I thought he would be,” I confess to her. “He’s easy to get along with, and we kind of just click.”
“That’s what I mean… the chemistry is there. Sexual and non-sexual. The viewers are going to eat that up,” she says excitedly. “I think you two should play up on that will-they-won’t-they chemistry.”
“What. No,” I tell her. “This is a renovation program, not a dating show.”
“I didn’t say anything about dating, Quinn.” Her dark brown eyes narrow on me. “I think you two should play up the natural chemistry you both share. I know the network approves.” I frown. “Just think about it, okay?” she asks me as she gets up from the table. “I’ve got to head into work. Have fun.”
A couple of hours later, my cell begins to ring, and I can see it’s Sebastien FaceTiming me. I take a quick look in the mirror to check if I’m okay before answering the call. “Hey,” I say after pressing the answer button. His handsome face fills the screen.
“Hey, yourself.” He grins. Seriously, his smile should be utterly illegal. “I’m exhausted after today.” I see him lay back against a chair as he raises a beer to his lips. I watch in fascination as mouth wraps around the end of the bottle and takes a sip.
Why did that give my body tingles all of a sudden? No. No. No.
I try and clear my head from whatever brain fog has just occurred.
Work. Talk about work.
“How amazing was that villa,” I say. “It has totally inspired me. Look...” Switching my phone around, I show him all my work that’s in progress.
“Oh, wow.”
“I know. I’ve been sketching, too, but it’s hard to remember everything because I was too excited at the time.”
“Don’t worry, I took photos. I’ll email them through to you,” he adds.
“So, where are you now?”
“At my old apartment in Barcelona. Want to see it?”
Oh hell, yeah, I want to glimpse into the secret Spanish life of Sebastien Sanchez. He flips the camera around and shows me the view from where he is sitting. It’s so stunningly beautiful with all the different rooftops scattered across the screen. The architecture here is completely different than America, so much so it looks like I’m in a fairy tale.
“There are beaches in Barcelona… in the city?” I question.
His throaty laugh echoes through the phone. “Si. Of course.” I think I need to read up a little more on Barcelona before I arrive.
“It looks beautiful.” Looking at the long stretch of blue on the horizon, I take it all in.
“Hey, Sebastien, you home?” a male voice calls out from behind him in Spanish. He turns the phone around, and there’s a couple of gorgeous guys standing in a living room with some women who look like they belong on the cover of Vogue standing with them. They appear sophisticated, chic, and the complete opposite to me. As I look down at my coffee-stained tee, he turns the phone back to me.
“Sorry, that’s my brother….” he rolls his eyes, “… and his friends. Looks like he’s wanting to hang out.”
“Is that the hot girl from America.” His brother shouts out in Spanish.
“Just a friend,” Sebastien grumbles back in his native tongue.
Little do they both know that I’m actually fluent in Spanish.
“I think I’d find it hard being friends with her. Especially when she’s supporting such a fantastic rack,” his brother adds.
Sebastien curses at him and moves away from the group.
“Sorry about that. I better go. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? I can’t wait to see what ideas you come up with,” he says quickly, rushing to get me off the line.
“Make sure you send those photos.” Be professional Quinn, even though there’s a small tinge of jealousy creeping in.
“Will do, bye.” He hangs up quickly, but unfortunately for him he only hangs up the video, not the audio on his phone, so I can hear everything. I know I should end the call, but for some reason, I don’t and listen in to their conversation.
“Now we can party,” someone screams in the background.
“Sebastien,” I call out numerous times, but he doesn’t seem to hear me. I should really hang up, but again I just can’t find it in me to do so.
“Was that your American friend on the phone?”
“She’s my co-worker, nothing more, Joaquin. Like I said.” Sebastien answers the Joaquin guy.
“And there isn’t a part of you that doesn’t want to screw her?”
“She’s not my type,” Sebastien tells him.
“What a blonde with great tits isn’t your type?” the other guy asks him.
“I like my women with experience,” Sebastien states categorically.
Oh. My stomach sinks upon hearing Sebastien’s words. They always say nothing good comes from eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation, but maybe it’s for the best, to quash any stupid feelings I might have started to develop toward Sebastien.
“Sabine is here, and she has a ton of experience.”
They both chuckle at Joaquin’s statement.
“It’s been a while. Maybe I should,” Sebastien adds, then there’s more chuckling.
I press the end call button on my cell, feeling my ultimate high deflate into a bottom-dwelling low.
18
Quinn
“Let’s go out!” I ask Lettie as soon as she walks through the door after work.
“Okay.” She looks at me strangely as if I’ve sprouted a second head.
“I’m free and single, I should be out there enjoying myself not inside working,” I explain to her.
“Are you drunk already?” she asks while giving me the once over.
“No, but I want to be.”
Lettie frowns. “Look, I’m all for going out and having fun, but—”
“I know, I’ve been a killjoy for too long. Screw Chad. Screw men,” I state while waving my hands in the air.
“Did something happen?” Lettie asks.
“No. Nothing happened,” I answer quickly, maybe too quickly because she isn’t convinced.
“I’ve just spent all day working, just like the day before that and the day before that,” I explain. “This is the first time I’ve been single as an adult. I’m twenty-six years old. I’m in the prime of my life. I should be out exploring my options.”
“Now, I’m all for girl power and all that jazz…” she gives me a look, “… but you, Miss Quinn, are not this girl who goes out and goes crazy.”
“Maybe I should be. I’m sick of being a boring person, Lettie.”
She frowns again at me. “Fine! If this is something you feel like you need, then I’ll be there.” She smiles. “If we’re doing this, we are doing it right, okay?”
I nod my head in agreement.
I shouldn’t have agreed to Lettie’s demands because hours later, I don’t recognize myself anymore.
“I’m so thankful you called me, Lettie.” Derrick grins. “I’ve been wanting to work my magic on Quinn for years.”
Wait! What?
“I knew I had to bring her to the best,” Lettie tells him.
Seriously LA is a small world. I had no idea Lettie knew Derrick Jones, who I met the other night along with Dirty Texas.
“I’m so proud of my work.” He gives me an appreciative look over like he’s a proud father or something. “She has a banging body and hides it away.” Lettie nods in agreement. “And those legs…” He gives me a whistle. “I have to take a photo. Pose, sweetie.” He pulls out his cell and starts snapping away. I give him my best red-carpet poses—I think the champagne is going to my head.
“Thank you so much.” Running my hand down the sheer fabric, I say, “This is too much, really.” Admiring myself in the floor-length mirror, in all honesty, the woman staring back at me I don’t even recognize.
“It is my pleasure.” He leans in and gives me a chaste kiss. “You girls should come out tonight with me. There’s a party at t
he Sons of Brooklyn house. Why not come?” Derrick asks.
Oh my God, Sons of Brooklyn, I love that band, and they’re so hot.
“Hell, yeah, we’ll be there,” Lettie tells Derrick.
They talk amongst themselves organizing tonight. I take the solitary moment to really take myself in. Looking at the revealing white dress that hugs every inch of my body, the low-cut neckline that exposes a little too much cleavage, and then the hem that only just covers my ass, I feel like a different person. Maybe this is what I need to be a different person. This woman in the mirror looks like someone who’s experienced, who knows how to use her feminine whiles, and who knows how to flirt and pick up men.
Maybe I can be her for tonight? It’s only one night. What harm could it do to be someone else?
Hours later, we are pulling up in front of a Hollywood Hills home with Derrick by our side. The valet greets us and parks the car. We walk a couple of steps to where a large man is standing. Derrick gives him our names, and we are let in through the matte black steel gate. We follow the polished concrete walkway toward a home entirely made of glass.
I wouldn’t want to be in charge of washing those windows.
Music is pumping loudly throughout the entire home. I think there might even be speakers in the garden because it feels like it’s all around you. Can’t imagine the neighbors will be happy, but since when do rock stars care what people think.
“Welcome, ladies, to the fun house.” Derrick grins.
We step into the entry foyer where waitstaff greet us with a tray of cocktails. We each take one and follow Derrick through the extravagant home.
“So, they all live here?” Lettie asks.
“Yep, when they are in LA. It’s easier to keep an eye on them.” He smirks.
The foyer leads through to the living area which melds into the garden and pool area. The entire side of the home looks like one giant piece of glass that has been slid open to merge the inside and the outside.
Beautiful women are draped haphazardly across the furniture like exotic throws.
“Derrick, you made it.” A gorgeous blond guy races over, pulling him into a tight hug. He’s covered in tattoos, intricate drawings up his arms and legs. He’s wearing a holey gray T-shirt, which probably is designed that way, black jeans with strategic rips, black Chucks, and a wide-brim hat. Once he’s greeted Derrick, his attention is turned toward us, and oh boy, he’s gorgeous. He looks like he’s stepped right out of Scandinavia with his tan skin, piercing blue eyes, and square jaw which looks like he’s left unshaven for a couple of days. He’s scruffy chic. I think it might be Tyler from Sons of Brooklyn.
“Ladies.” His face lights up when he sees us. “Who do we have here, Derrick?” He looks to his friend for an explanation.
“Tyler, this is Lettie and Quinn,” Derrick introduces us. “Lettie runs the Lifestyle section for a TV network, and Quinn is one of their stars,” he adds.
“Pleasure to meet you, ladies.” Tyler kisses our hands. What a gentleman. He then turns his attention to me. “Would I have seen you on anything, you look familiar?”
“Do you watch home renovation programs?” I ask him, even though I am sure rock stars don’t have time for that.
“I have five sisters. I’ve probably watched them all.” He grins, which makes his dimples pop.
“I was on a show called Farmhouse Reno.” Internally, for some reason, I cringe when I say the name of my old show.
“No, shit!” His blue eyes widen. “I thought you looked really familiar. My mom adores you,” he tells me. “Can I get a picture to send to her? There is no way in the world my mom will believe I met you.”
“Sure.”
Well, this is a little bit surreal. Tyler, from Sons of Brooklyn, wants my photograph and not the other way around.
“Lettie and I are just going to go outside, come join us when you’re finished,” Derrick whispers to me.
No, don’t leave me with the hot rock star, I think as I watch my lifelines disappear from me.
“Don’t worry, you’re safe with me.” Tyler grins, and somehow, I highly doubt that. He places a muscular arm around my waist as he takes a couple of selfies of us together. “What’s your number, and I’ll send them through to you,” he asks. I give him my number, he enters it into his cell, and my phone vibrates moments later.
“Thanks, so much for that. You’re probably sick of people doing that at parties.” He grins. “Hey, I’m sorry about you and that Chad dude breaking up.”
Oh, wow! Even at a rock star’s house, I can’t escape my past, and my face pales.
“Hey.” His hand reaches out and touches my chin. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Me, of all people, should know not to read the gossip mags. It’s just my mom told me she was super upset over the news because you know… she loves you both,” he tells me. “But then, she found out about the other woman and the ring he gave her over you, and she was pissed.”
Those blue eyes look down at me, and he gives me another lopsided grin. “Shit! I did it again. Look, I’m sorry, I’m not normally this weird around a hot chick.”
He thinks I’m hot. My insides do a giddy dance.
“Just that… shit.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “You’re really pretty, and I’m fanboying, and…”
I reach out and touch his muscular arm. “It’s totally fine. In all honesty, your reaction kind of makes me feel utterly normal. It’s something I would do,” I reassure him.
“Yeah?” He doesn’t sound convinced.
“Yeah. I’m not used to talking to attractive rock stars.”
Oh, good one, Quinn. Nice flirtation.
“Well, tonight seems to be looking up for us, then.” He places an arm around my shoulder and leads me into the party.
19
Sebastien
Things got a little wild after I hung up with Quinn. The night became a bit of a blur. I wake up to a slew of messages from Derrick who’s probably drunk dialed me again.
Opening the first message, I freeze. There is a picture of Quinn dressed as if she’s going to a party. Various poses in a white dress that leaves extraordinarily little to the imagination.
She looks stunning.
Shit! Who is she looking good for?
Derrick: Do you like my latest creation? I think it’s my best work yet.
He can say that again because Quinn looks gorgeous. The pit in my stomach opens like a gaping chasm.
No. I’m not thinking about it.
I’m not going to think about what she’s up to and who she is with. She needs to live her life, and I need to live mine.
Dammit! I scroll through the photographs again.
Derrick: Just arrived at the Sons of Brooklyn guys’ house for a party. Think Quinn’s made a new friend.
There’s an image of Tyler with his arm wrapped firmly around her while they sit on his couch. They look like they’re in the middle of an intense conversation. My eyes run over every inch of the picture, and I try to figure out what’s happening. Deep down, I know what is happening, but Derrick could just be fucking with me. Her entire body is leaning into Tyler’s, and her hand is on his leg.
Shit. I rake my fingers through my hair.
Derrick: It’s great seeing her laugh again.
He then sends through an image of Quinn laughing while Tyler is practically wrapped around her.
Dammit.
No.
You shouldn’t care.
You don’t care.
She is free to do whatever she wants just like you were last night with Sabine. I open the next message from him, and it’s a photograph of him and Lettie.
Derrick: Alas, then there were two.
And that was it.
No more messages.
Did Quinn stay the night? No. Shaking my head. She’s a good girl. She told me she doesn’t do one-night stands. And yet? No. It doesn’t matter at all. We are just friends. Colleagues. Nothing more.
I
throw my cell onto the bed and stumble into the shower. I’m just hungover, that’s all, and that’s why I’m in this mood.
Stepping out of the shower, I walk into the kitchen, where my brother is sipping on a coffee flicking through his cell.
“Morning,” I say as I pour myself a coffee.
“Morning.” He looks up from his cell, his eyes narrow in on me.
Frowning at him, I ask, “What?”
“I’m assessing your mood?” He looks me up and down.
What does that mean?
“And?” I question, taking a sip of my coffee which is exactly what I need.
“I’m guessing you haven’t seen the news.” He gives me a weird look.
“What news?” Panic begins to race up and over my skin. What’s happened? He turns his cell around and shows me a link on Instagram.
Quinn Miller’s Rebound with a Rock Star
Then there are grainy images of Quinn and Tyler making out in his home. What the hell? It’s early morning there. Someone messaged this to this blogger as soon as it happened.
That’s not right.
Quinn is going to die when she sees these pictures.
“You seem pretty cool about it,” my brother tells me.
“Actually, I’m really upset about this.”
“I knew it.” He slaps the table. “I knew you had a thing for her, and now you’re upset because she’s hooked up with this rock star instead of you,” Joaquin tells me.
“It’s not that at all. I’m fucking upset because this is the first person she’s been with since her breakup, and I know she will be mortified that the world has seen her in this moment.”
My brother’s eyes narrow on me. “So, you’re more upset that her privacy has been breached, more than her sleeping with some rock star?” he questions.
