“I agree. I’ll hit’cha back later, yeah?”
Royce offers a chin lift and a thoughtful “Peace” before hanging up.
I hang up and hit the button for Tracey. It rings a few times before an exasperated “Triumph Talent Agency, this is Tracey” comes over the connection.
“Hi, Tracey, it’s Parker Ellis.”
“Oh hi. Sorry about the rushed intro. I’m down my assistant today, the day the calls go crazy.”
“Murphy’s Law.”
“Yeah. What can I do for you?”
“Actually, I need your advice. The press is hounding IG offices, and it’s starting to hurt my team workwise. The release went out, but the media’s still rabid, and I’m not there to run interference.”
“I see. I told Sky about this, but she didn’t listen. Told me you needed your privacy.”
“Told her about what?”
“You guys need to do a live interview. Together. Side by side so the press can get their fifteen minutes, screen grabs, video clips, etc. and leave you alone for a while. At least until one of you does something new to grab their attention.”
“And Sky didn’t want to?”
“No. She said your relationship is new and she didn’t want to add to the pressure that goes with dating a celebrity, but frankly, Parker, it’s one of the only ways to get them off your back. You want to have some freedom, give them something to run away with.”
I mull over her idea. “How would we best go about that? I’m coming there on Sunday night and will be hanging out on her movie set Monday and Tuesday.”
“Really? It’s easy then. Before you enter through the back of the set, walk to the front and have her meet you. Or enter together. The press will go nuts. They’ll get some pictures of the two of you together. I’ll set up a quick lunch interview with a few of the ones I trust most. I say most because you can never trust any of them completely.”
“I learned that after the People piece.” The words come out jilted and as jaded as I feel.
“I’ll meet you guys at the set, run interference, and give you a Speaking to the Press 101 crash course of things to say and not to say, and how to avoid answering questions you don’t want to answer. Like, Are you in love with Skyler?” Her voice is flat, devoid of emotion, and it jolts me off balance.
My throat instantly goes dry, and I reach for the bottle of water on my side table. “Are you, um, asking me right now?” I tug at the suddenly too-tight collar of my shirt.
She cackles into the phone, and I almost have to pull it away. “Oh my, it would have been fun to see your face right then. I can tell by your hesitation, that is a question you would like to avoid answering.”
“Fuck yes.” I clear my throat while she continues to laugh.
“Don’t worry, Parker. I take care of Sky. She’s my number-one priority. Has been for years and will continue to be for years to come. Now that you’re in the picture, I’ll be looking out for you as well. I won’t let anything happen. Have your assistant tell me when you’re planning to visit the set, and I’ll coordinate the rest.”
“All right. Thank you, Tracey. I appreciate it. And will you talk to Skyler about what we discussed?”
“You mean you don’t want to be the bearer of bad news? Sky hates talking to the press about her personal life. It’s a pet peeve of hers but a necessary evil in the business.”
“Um, no,” I state with no shame whatsoever. Sky and I already had a pretty deep conversation earlier. I don’t want to add to it by telling her we need to have a heart-to-heart with the press so they leave my business and staff alone.
“Okay, I’ve got this.”
“I owe you one, Tracey.”
“No, you don’t. Take care of my girl and don’t turn out to be a douchebag, and we’ll be aces.”
Apparently Tracey Wilson, agent extraordinaire, does not pull any punches, going right for the kill.
“I don’t intend to hurt Skyler. She means something to me, Tracey. More and more every day.”
“Yeah, I see it in the way she talks about you, how her face lights up, and she gets this faraway, dreamy look in her eyes. She used to do the same thing when she spoke of Johan, and he broke her heart. Let’s shoot for keeping a happy look on my best friend’s face and we’ll be good to go. Now, I’ve got an enormous amount of work with no assistant, so I’m going to let you go.”
I chuckle awkwardly, not knowing how to take all the information she’s shared. “See you soon. And good luck.”
She sighs heavily. “Without her, I’m going to need it. See you Monday, Parker.”
“Thanks again.”
“No problem. Bye.” She hangs up, and I stand up and head to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
Tomorrow’s the show, and I’m hoping everything falls into place for our client. T-Bone may be a misguided wannabe pioneer of women’s empowerment through body-fitting lingerie, but he genuinely means well. Initially he went about it the wrong way. Bo and I have ironed out the issues, and I’m looking forward to seeing everyone’s hard work unfold at the show tomorrow.
I hit the bathroom, brush my teeth, visit the facilities, pull back the comforter, and slide naked into bed. The cool sheets have me shivering for a moment before I grab my phone and pull up the messages screen.
I notice I’ve got a video text from Skyler. I click on it and see her beautiful face. She’s wearing full makeup, her hair hidden by a long black wig. She’s wearing some type of weird armor, which reminds me of Wonder Woman’s bralike corset, only this one is black and silver.
“Hi, pretty boy. Just wanted to say I won’t be able to chat with you tonight, my afternoon. The director is on a tear about us being a day behind schedule on some of the scenes, so we really need to nail them tonight. No breaks all around except to grab a bite in between. Since I don’t know when that will be, I wanted to say sleep well, and I can’t wait to see you on Sunday! I’m having Rachel pick you up at the airport. She’s convinced you’ll need coverage in case the paps catch wind of your arrival. I told her she was nutty, but . . .” She shrugs, and it looks like her armor lifts with her. I chuckle under my breath, not wanting to miss a moment of her words to me. “. . . better safe than sorry. I’ll see you soon. Dream of me!” She ends the video with an air kiss, only in this one I can see her lips moving into a perfect bow. She smiles wide and winks before the video stops.
Damn, I’m one lucky man.
I roll over onto my stomach and imagine Skyler in that outfit kicking the ass of some pretend, futuristic villain. I fall asleep smiling.
9
The runway is a long, bright, gleaming-white rectangle set in the center of a large room. There’s nothing particularly special about it aside from the freestanding mirrors we’ve strategically placed on each side. Four in total. The surrounding space is charcoal gray to help with any potential distractions around the runway. Chairs are stationed up an incline on each side so every position gets an unobstructed view of the stage. I take the steps up the side of the runway toward the back and stop at the first mirror.
I pull out the tube of red lipstick and smile, thinking back to Sophie, Skyler, and Christina. I’m becoming a bit of a sap. These cases I work are starting to affect me on a personal level I hadn’t anticipated. When I set out to create International Guy, I had no idea how big it would become and the clientele we’d encounter. At first, I thought we’d be analysts and consultants, working with businesses to help them thrive. And we do that, but the slant we’ve taken now bends toward the personal side of life. As such, I’m finding I’m more interested and invested in my job. It’s fulfilling me in ways I never dreamed. Meeting and becoming friends with Sophie. Skyler and I entering a relationship together. Hell, I helped two royals work out their differences and become the next king and queen of Denmark. Who does that?
No one.
No one but my team.
I’m proud of the work we’ve done these past few months, and with our staff expanding and our ca
seload filling up with a waiting list, I’ve never been more fulfilled. I’m happy with my life as it is. A great job. A gorgeous girlfriend. Amazing friends. Sky’s the limit.
Sky.
My thoughts go to her as I write her mantra on the mirror. It will be the first one people read as each model poses in front of it.
Live your truth.
I smile, thinking about how I’m going to see my girl tomorrow. My girlfriend. Who’d have thought I’d be back in a relationship? Definitely not me. I truly believed Kayla had screwed me up for women forever. Guess it proves if you find the right woman, anything can happen.
People change. I’ve changed. Grown over the past few years. I’m ready to commit to a woman. To Skyler. She’s everything I could ever want and more in a significant other. Beautiful. Funny. Kind. Compassionate. Teasing. Cute. Thoughtful. I even adore her jealous streak, probably because it matches my own.
I make my way over to the next mirror and think of my dear friend Sophie. The only woman I’ve ever been close friends with. Sophie makes it easy. She’s patient, considerate, and gives great advice. I enjoy having her friendship in my life, and I want her and Skyler to be friends one day. I can’t say I expect them to be “sisters” the way the guys and I are “brothers,” but I’m hopeful. Sophie’s a force. Once we got her past her timid nature in business, and the grief of losing her father wasn’t so fresh, her tenacity and passion in all things came to the surface full throttle. Eventually I have to trust that the women in my life, my mother and assistant included, will find a happy balance.
Imagining Sophie’s smile, I write on the second mirror.
You are golden.
The red stain streaks along with each word, giving it a graphic effect I know T-Bone will like. When I approached him about the mirror idea and the mantras, he positively jumped with glee. It was frightening to see T-Bone jumping around like a bullfrog from lily pad to lily pad.
I shake my head. Fashion people are weird. The entire lot of them. You never know what’s going to strike their fancy. It’s all a crapshoot.
Next, I move to the third mirror, closer to the front, and remember Princess Christina. I imagine she and Sven are gallivanting in some foreign country, celebrating their honeymoon, happily in love. With the two of them and the years of commitment under their belts, they may come back ready to announce Christina’s pregnant with the next heir to the throne. I distinctly recall Christina’s mother, Princess Mary, pushing for that exact outcome. Though I think her words were, “Don’t come home until you’re expecting the next king,” or something equally ridiculous. She is all about being a royal, all the time. At least now that Christina is queen, she doesn’t have to listen to her mother; her mother has to listen to her. I’ll just bet she loves every minute of the role reversal. I sure as hell would.
I write Christina’s mantra for the world to see.
Own your future.
Twisting the lipstick to add more, I make my way to the front of the stage where the last two-way mirror is stationed. This time, I write on both sides of the mirror, wanting not only the models to see the words but the audience as well.
Embrace your sexy.
I smile as I swirl the y down to underline the entire word. Hopefully each of these mantras will help the models connect with their image and what they’re doing on stage. Given the cabaret teachers, the lessons Bo and I have given them this week, and of course, T-Bone’s incredible collection, I hope each and every one of them feels like a million bucks.
Once I’ve finished the mantras, I head back to where the craziness is. All twelve models are either undergoing a final on-the-spot fitting or getting hair and makeup done.
I find Anna-Maria and lean into the vanity while the hairdresser is curling her hair into ringlets.
“How are we feeling today?” I smile, wanting her to see I’m here for her. I’m here for all of the ladies.
“Actually, really good.” She nods. “Last night, I gave my husband a preview of the walk and poses.” Her cheeks and neck flush a rosy color.
“Did you, now?” I grin. “And how did it go for you?”
“Um, really well. He told me I was the sexiest woman alive and even more so after having his babies. He loves how my body has changed, because it shows how our lives have grown and changed together. I’m a mother now. It’s a new role, a new body. And when I’m an old woman, a grandmother, I’ll have a grandmother’s body, and he said he’ll love me even more then too because I will have given him a legacy.”
I smile wide and crouch down to her level, placing my hands on the arms of the chair. “It sounds to me like your husband knows he has a good thing and wants to keep it that way for a long, long time.”
She grins. “Yeah. I love him so much.”
“Will he be in the crowd?”
She nods and bites her lip. “He says he can’t wait to ravish me after the show, after all the audience sees what only he gets to touch.”
I squeeze the ball of her shoulder. “Your husband rocks. Make sure you reward him well tonight.” I wink.
As I’m about to leave she grabs my hand with both of hers. Her pretty eyes are shining with a glassiness that usually means tears. “Mr. Ellis. Um, Parker. Thank you for helping me see what I couldn’t before. I like who I am. I’m happy to have a healthy body regardless of the extra weight and saggy areas I didn’t have when I was twenty. I get it now. I need to love the body I’m in and be thankful for it.”
I squeeze her hands and pat the tops. “I never said such things, though I’m glad you’re seeing what you need to see. You’re a beautiful woman. Anyone can see that. I’m happy your blinders finally came off.”
“All because of you and Bo.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Sweetheart, it was all you. Own it.”
On that note, I leave her to finish getting ready for the show.
As I make my way through the throngs of people rushing around backstage, I find Bo with a needle and thread dangling from his mouth. He’s holding up the strap of a camisole.
“Not the right fit?” I ask as Bo pinches the fabric together and flips it so he can sew it back together.
“No. Miss Excitement over here pulled it over her head so fast she didn’t center her arm in the right place and stretched the strap past its breaking point.”
“I said sorry, Bo.” She frowns.
He grins and winks at her. “You can make it up to me later, hot pants.”
She licks her lips and leers at Bo. “With my mouth or my body?”
Oh shit.
“I’m thinking a little . . . nah . . . a lot of both.” He leans closer to her breast and bites off the thread in a smooth, if not racy, move.
She gasps, shamelessly pressing her boobs closer to his face.
“Aaaaaaand . . . that’s my cue.” I turn around and leave them both chuckling at my awkwardness.
I touch base with each of the models before I notice a familiar face in the distance. I’m happy to see Martina is also here coaching the women on-site. She commands all the attention in a room. Her bombshell looks, height, and sparkling personality have people everywhere gravitating toward her. Me included.
I head to where she’s speaking with one of the more timid ladies. I think she’s a preschool teacher, unmarried, and all of twenty-five, though her innocent look makes her seem barely of age.
“Remember what I told you. Confidence is key. Some say fake it until you make it, but I don’t think that’s right. You are perfect in the two outfits. You know your poses; do exactly what you’ve learned, and you’ll have accomplished what you set out to do. Won’t that feel good?”
She nods. “Yes, thank you, Martina.”
“’Tis nothing, sweet angel.” She pats the preschool teacher as if she were the model’s mother, though she couldn’t be more than a couple of years older.
“Hey, you didn’t have to be here today. The contract didn’t include the show.”
She purses her lips. “No,
but these are my girls now, and I support my girls. This show is important to them and to me. I want T-Bone’s vision of empowering women to be exemplified by women who feel powerful in his clothing.” She shrugs. “I’m doing my part for the cause.”
I smile and nod. “Yes, you are.” I scan her form and notice she’s in yet another sexy corset, this time with black leather pants, a low-slung sparkly belt, and her dark hair a wild mane down her back and over her shoulders. Her lips are coated with the bold red lipstick and paired perfectly with smoky eyes. She looks as if she were going for a night on the town, not to sit down and watch a fashion show.
Martina looks at me from the top of my sport coat to my dress shirt open at the collar and down my slacks to my Ferragamos.
“I like your attire,” she says, her voice a husky timbre I haven’t heard before.
“Yours isn’t half bad either.” I clear my throat and run my hand over the back of my neck.
She steps closer, placing her hands on my chest. The woman is already five ten, but in the sky-high heels she’s wearing, we’re at eye level. “I think I’ll like what you have under it . . . very much. How about you and I test out my theory after the show?”
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
Normally I’d be all over her invitation like sauce over a meaty steak, but I stop cold. This woman is every man’s wet dream come to life. Except mine. I’ve already got my dream girl, and there is no way in hell I’m going to risk losing that for a night with a sinfully hot dancer.
“Martina—” I begin to decline when we’re interrupted by a photographer.
“Picture, Martina?” he asks, and she smiles wide, cuddling up to my chest, pressing her breasts close, and cocking a hip.
I barely know what’s happening when he says, “Smile.” On autopilot I smile, but the second he’s got his shot, I back away.
“Martina, your offer is very generous, and a few months ago, I would have gladly taken you up on it. However, I’m in a relationship.”
She pouts, her perfect red lips puffing out, making her look like a sexy, sad dominatrix.
Jesus Christ!
International Guy: Milan (International Guy Series Book 4) Page 10
