“Well, I’ll try to freshen up my attitude, but you’re not fuckin’ with my coffee.” And, as if he didn’t want to put too fine a point on it, he walked over to the coffee pot in the corner and filled a paper cup to the brim. As he turned around to join Dane and Clay sitting at the table, he noticed Mark and the director over on the other side of the warehouse-type space talking to a tall woman who’d entered at some point unbeknownst to the band.
“Dudes,” Brian said, “is she gonna be in the video?”
“No idea,” Clay said. “I got the same script you did.” They had no script, of course.
“Normally, I’d say this is bullshit, ‘cause they could at least tell us what the fuck was going on—but that woman looks…intriguing.” He’d refrained from saying delectable. After all, she wasn’t a piece of meat.
Dane said, “She doesn’t look like your type.”
“What the hell does that even mean? She’s a woman—meaning she is totally my type.”
“Nah, Dane’s right, man. You usually seem to go for blondes.”
That was true. He’d wound up with so many blondes in the past, it seemed like he preferred them—but he really did love all women. What he loved about the woman he saw across the way was her attitude. It was evident from clear over here. Maybe it was the black leather jacket she wore or the gigantic hoop earrings. It might have been the way her dark hair was styled or maybe the leather choker around her neck. Even from here, though, she seemed so goddamned familiar.
“Maybe I just need to get laid.”
Clay said, “That never hurts. And, besides, you can add ‘em all to your memoir someday.”
“Dude…I am not gonna talk about all the pipe I laid when I’m old and shriveled.”
Clay started laughing loudly then. “I just figured one per chapter should make a small book.”
“Just ‘cause I wasn’t a huge slut like you back in the day.” Brian loved poking Clay back, especially because LFS had the reputation of being one of the horniest, most-laid bands around, which made absolutely no damn sense. All the guys were or had been in long-term relationships at various points throughout their career, but Brian knew most of the rumors were focused on Clay—or, rather, Jet. He’d had one pretty serious relationship when they broke big with the gal formerly known as Valerie Quinn. Clay had never said it, but the guys knew he’d taken the break-up pretty hard and, after that, he’d probably bagged a woman in every town.
Until Emily.
The guy was as loyal as a labrador and just as loving—but he also wasn’t the kind of guy to admit it aloud.
Brian had watched his friends each find the perfect woman over the years and had thought with Kyle that he’d found his—but now, in retrospect, he realized that he’d been forcing it when it wasn’t meant to be. He hadn’t found his soulmate yet…but, always on the lookout, he expected her at any moment. Maybe this woman would be the one.
But as she tilted her head and Brian got a better look of her face, he changed his mind. “Motherfucker.”
“What?”
“Now do you guys believe me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Take a good hard look at that woman. Tell me who you see.”
Clay glanced and said, “No fucking idea.”
Dane added, “You got me, dude.”
“That’s Sophia Buckley.”
“The model? The one we had lunch with?”
“Yep. Confirming my suspicions that Mark’s the one behind the press appearing out of nowhere.”
“He denied it, remember? He said—”
“He didn’t say shit. He was hemming and hawing and avoiding the issue, and then his phone rang with supposed important business—and you guys let it drop.”
“You know I got your back, man,” Clay said, “but there’s no press here right now. How would her making a video with us support that theory?”
“It doesn’t necessarily. I’m just saying the two of them are in kahoots.” Although Dane started laughing, Brian kept talking. “And where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
“But wait a second. Wasn’t that model blonde? This woman’s got dark hair.”
“I don’t give a shit. That’s her. She wouldn’t be the first woman to suddenly change her hair color.” After Brian continued watching the interaction across the way for a bit, he said, “I let it drop with Mark last time, ‘cause of you guys, but I’m not this time.”
Sam came back in and joined the guys. “Are we ready to go?”
“Hell, no,” Brian said.
“What’s the hold up?”
When Brian started ranting again, Clay gave Dane a look—but, underneath everything, they all had concerns that this thing wouldn’t be in the can even by the time they had to get back on the road.
* * *
Holy shit. If looks could kill, these guys’ eyes were made out of hand grenades. Well, maybe not all of them. Brian, though, looked pretty pissed.
But a little confused, too, and Sophie loved it.
After she’d taken Mark up on his offer and emailed the signed contract back to him, she’d called him to ask more about the role she was to play. He had no issues with her coloring her hair, so long as it wasn’t “purple, teal, or any of those other weird damn colors.”
She readily agreed.
Fortunately, Rory was good with boxed hair dye, too, and that night they’d colored her hair. Then she’d made a few purchases for the clothing she’d wear on set (which Mark agreed to reimburse when she provided a receipt) and let her agent know she was going to be out of town for a couple of days. Maybe she should have told her about the job, but she’d rather beg for forgiveness later than ask for permission now. While her agent worked for her and not the other way around, the woman was a bit of a tyrant, wanting to “help” Sophie make all her decisions—but if her agent had potentially thought this was a bad idea, Sophie would have had to willfully tell her she was doing it no matter what.
This way was easier.
And she also promised to watch Rory’s show when she returned to the Big Apple, because it was a role he was quite proud of and he wasn’t sure how long the run was going to last.
After a harrowing flight and a mix-up at the hotel, Sophie had tried to get a good night’s sleep—but it hadn’t been so restful. Fortunately, thanks to the change in time zones, she felt like she was able to sleep late nonetheless. Between that, really good makeup, and super strong coffee, she was raring to go, showing up at the location as requested on time.
While she was talking to Mark, she caught Brian looking over at them and she was pretty sure he recognized her, even with the dark hair. And even out of the corner of her eye, he looked hot as hell. Why she wanted to jump his bones now, she wouldn’t know. That alone pissed her off, like her body was betraying her brain; her emotions were starting to short-circuit her reason.
“Listen, doll,” he said, and she tried to decide if she was okay with that stupid fucking nickname or not, “you look great, but you might be a little warm with that jacket on.”
“It’s not like a shirt. I can take it off later.”
“You like your accommodations?”
“Yes, they’re nice.”
“Did you rent a car?”
“No, I decided to just rely on cabs.”
“Well…then I think you should ride back to the hotel with us. We’ve got a limo from here to there, and—”
“Are we all in the same hotel?”
“We are. It’s easiest that way. Now, no obligation, but you can come to dinner with us, too. Clay’s girlfriend will be with us, so’s you won’t feel awkward.”
“Thanks.” God, this guy was weird—and having another person she didn’t know along wouldn’t make it less strange.
The director joined them and they spent a little bit of time for him to talk about his vision as well as give her character notes. She felt like telling him she’d read the synopsis and, besides, it wasn’t like she’d had to memor
ize lines. She just had to look angsty, in love, upset—a variety of emotions she thought she could handle well.
And the best part? The lead singer, the guy they called Devil, was going to be her love interest. If anything would get Brian’s attention and make him think about her in that way again, it would be her fawning over another man. Real or not, she was glad for the opportunity.
She caught Brian looking over their way more than once, and she hoped she appeared to not notice. Finally, though, Mark started waving the band members over. “Guys, come here.” In just a few seconds, all four men had crossed the space and she made an effort to look in every guys’ eyes.
Except Brian’s.
“You guys remember Sophia Buckley?”
But Brian wasn’t about to be ignored. “How could we forget her?”
“She’s going to be in the video.”
“We need to have a quick meeting, Mark.”
Already? She’d gotten under his skin this quickly? Holy hell. This was going to be more fun than she’d initially thought.
“We don’t have time for that, guys.”
The lead singer said, “With all due respect, Mark, I think this would be a case of a stitch in time.”
Their manager sighed audibly. “Damn it. You know I love that.” Turning to Sophie, he said, “Will you excuse us for just a moment?”
“Of course.”
Snapping his fingers, he got the attention of one of the guys standing nearby. “Duff, go get this woman something from Starbucks for her trouble.”
Did he think she kept the figure she had drinking fatty, sugary drinks? But she simply smiled sweetly at Mark while the big guy with long blond hair approached to do her bidding—and she tried not to imagine what the men were going to discuss outside.
One thing she knew for sure: with the money they were spending on her, this gig was hers, whether Brian Zimmer liked it or not. Let the fun begin.
Chapter Eight
The metal door had barely clanged behind them when Brian spat out, “What the fuck, Mark? Are you out of your mind?”
Mark didn’t have a chance to speak before Sam intervened. “Hold up, Brian. You can’t just charge right out of the gate. Don’t you even want to listen calmly to his side first?”
“No. I want to rip his fucking head off.”
“Now, wait a minute, fellas—”
“No, you wait a minute, Mark,” Brian said, nearly punching a hole through the man’s chest with his finger. “I know goddamn good and well you sicced the press on us at the restaurant—and I wouldn’t be surprised to find them hanging around here later on today.”
“Hold on, Brian,” the man said, pressing his palm against the bassist’s chest.
Clay asked, “So did you do that shit?”
Mark took in a long breath through his nostrils. When he spoke, he almost looked defeated. “Yes, I did—but it was for a very good reason.”
“I told you motherfuckers. Sales, right?”
“Yes,” said the man, running his hand over the bald patch on top of his head. “I don’t expect you guys to worry about that shit. You have an artistic vision and a connection with your fans. I don’t want you guys worrying about critics or sales or any of that grimy stuff.”
Sam, his voice as calm as a soft summer breeze, said, “That’s not exactly your job, either.”
“Maybe not, but it’s not entirely out of my purview. And if I make myself valuable to you, I have job security.”
“A stunt like this makes me want to fire your ass right now.”
“Chill out, dude. Let the man finish.”
“Thank you. Here’s my thought—you guys are branching out, evolving your musical style—but no one outside your fan base will ever hear it if we don’t draw attention to it.”
Clay said, “We don’t care about that shit.”
“And it’s not your job to. Your job is to be an artist, writing what speaks to you and performing. The business side of things is where I come into play. Now, Brian, I get why you were pissed about being ransacked by the rabid paparazzi in Manhattan, but I thought you’d be over it by now.”
Cocking an eyebrow, Brian said, “Obviously, I’m not.”
“But…after that little incident, views on your YouTube videos increased by over twenty percent of normal traffic, and we hadn’t uploaded anything new to the channel in a couple of weeks, so I know why you were getting hits. Sales of singles on iTunes increased dramatically—”
“That’s just ‘cause we’re touring.”
“Maybe so, but all of the evidence combined shows a definite spike that particular week. Why? Because people love drama. Boys, there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
“Tell that to, uh, Mel Gibson. Or maybe Lindsay Lohan.”
“They’re exceptions to the rule. Look at Madonna, someone who intentionally stirred up controversy back in the day to keep the media’s attention on her. I’d argue it works. If you want evidence closer to home, look at Mötley Crüe. Look at their long and sordid career and all the bad shit that went down—and the publicity kept them in people’s minds. What this is? The lunch? A video? It’s mere child’s play, Brian. So I ask: Is it really hurting you?”
Dane said, “He’s got a point.”
Brian simmered and seethed but the man did have a point. That just pissed him off all the more. So he just shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, and clamped his mouth shut.
“Now that that’s settled,” Mark said, giving Brian a look that told him he wasn’t going to discuss it anymore, “let’s talk about the video. Today, we’re going to shoot concert scenes.”
“Without an audience?” Of course, Clay would say that. He did his best work in front of a crowd.
“It’s a concert…for one person. This is a concept video, gentlemen. It’s more like the band is practicing. Sam, she’s playing your girlfriend. Tomorrow, we’ll shoot scenes—”
“Wait a second,” Sam said, now looking slightly perturbed. All Brian could think was it’s about fucking time. “You know I’m married now, right?”
“So?”
“So…I think it would be disrespectful to my wife and her family for me to appear to be in love with another woman.”
“It’s just acting, Sam. You’ve done that in videos before.”
Raising his eyebrows, he shook his head again. “I’m not going to do it. Sorry. Maybe one of the other guys could play the part.”
Dane was already shaking his head and Clay said, “Man, a few years ago, I would have told you to line up five or six girlfriends for me in a video—but not now. I get what Sam’s saying. This isn’t a fucking movie, Mark. It’s a video. It feels a helluva lot more real.”
“Why do we have to have this storyline anyway?”
Mark’s face looked incredulous. “You’re the one who wrote the edgy romantic lyrics, Sam. I don’t suppose your wife would like to appear on film?”
“I don’t think she’d mind, actually, but you know she can’t. She’s in school right now.”
“Gentlemen, we’ve already signed a contract with Ms. Buckley. If you’d like to pay her without requiring her services, we can send her on her way.”
“There is one other possible solution,” Sam said—and then all three band members and Mark looked at Brian at the same time.
“Oh, hell, no.”
Deep down, though, part of him wouldn’t mind being overruled—but no way was he going to say that shit out loud.
* * *
“A slight change in plans, Ms. Buckley,” Mark said as the band took their places on the small stage at one end of the cavernous space.
Oh, God. Maybe he really would fire her. After all, she knew this band had to make serious bank. What they were paying her was probably a flash in the pan and maybe they’d considered writing a check without having her perform. Well, it had been fun while it lasted.
“You know the synopsis of action I gave you? We’re changing that slightly.”
&nb
sp; Whew. Sophie merely nodded, lifting her eyebrows to indicate interest and attentiveness—hoping also to not give away her previous thoughts.
“Your love interest is no longer going to be Devil. Now it’s going to be Brian.”
She swallowed. Although this would prove to be difficult because she was still supremely pissed at him for being such an asshole, she also liked the idea, because the man was hot as hell. And, even that aside, he hated her guts, so if she could get under his skin, then the more, the better—and playing his girlfriend would put her in close enough proximity to make it easier.
There was no kissing demanded, simply one scene where they’d be gazing into each other’s eyes sadly and he would stroke her cheek while the camera got up close. She could act like she was in love. After all, she’d convinced him at that concert in Jersey that she was a horny fan (admittedly, it hadn’t been hard because he was so damn sexy.) It shouldn’t be too difficult to act like she was completely smitten just for a moment or two.
“And how does Mr. Zimmer feel about that?”
Mark licked his lower lip, averting his eyes in the bassist’s direction. “He’ll do it.”
Ah…but he didn’t say the man would like it. And, for some reason, Sophie preferred that answer to the alternative.
* * *
When the director got involved with making sure the guys in the band were set up the way he wanted to see them, Sophie sat in the chair and opened up her phone. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to get caught staring. Even though Brian was single and most people wouldn’t have cared, she didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. A public feud was one thing; public lust, quite another. She knew she would do well to keep her eyes to herself.
And then she became inspired. Now that she realized her Instagram audience was hungry for regular content, she’d been feeding them. Today, she’d be able to deliver more than ever. She just had to be thoughtful about it. As she’d begun to realize what her followers liked and more what they didn’t, she could continue making sure they stayed engaged, enjoying the pictures and words she shared. And she had also realized that having Brian in her life, whether she liked him or not, had helped her career immensely. Because there was no denying it, why wouldn’t she want to continue fueling that fire?
Slow Burn (Feverish #4) Page 7
