I frown.
“Look…” She slightly smiles as she leans forward. “This is the prime of your career. Your album sales have never been this high, all your shows are sold out, and Rick says you have endorsements coming from every corner. I thought you liked all the attention.” She sighs shaking her head like she isn’t even sure of what she is asking.
I try to smile back, but it doesn’t come through. It just kind of eats at my neck until the tension forms. I know I don’t have to go around telling everyone what happened, no one knows at this point, and I want it kept that way because I got out of it myself. It’s over, a one-time thing that I hope would just go away. But everyone on my team wouldn’t get it. I would become another tortured musician with an addiction. Except there is nothing tortured about me, and I couldn’t even be an addict the right way.
Subpar, all around.
“I’ll do the endorsements. I’ll record another song or another album… later. Maybe I just want to take a break for now.”
“Okay. A break. To do what?” She cocks her chin on her hand, and it makes me laugh.
I lean on the table on my forearms and grin. “I don’t know. Maybe I want to settle down. Meet the love of my life and have babies.”
Julia laughs, “You don’t seem like the type.”
“Are you kidding? I want a baseball team. And a smoking hot wife.” I shrug like it’s the normal stuff that men want.
“And where will you find this normal, smoking hot woman who isn’t crazy and doesn’t just want your money to end up settling down with you?”
“Tinder.”
We laugh. But in all honesty, I think about it sometimes. I can’t even notice hot women anymore and pursue them because they see me first and try to come up with some crazy way to get my attention as if I haven’t heard every line in the fan book. I tried to keep myself as secret as possible so everyone else in my family wouldn’t get looped into the drama. Jeffrey, right after me, is a doctor, he doesn’t need people faking injuries or something to try and get to me. Fletcher knows how it is because he’s a star athlete and keeps the family out of the media too. I’ve had to live a private life in the public, so that makes it hard to do normal shit like see a pretty woman in a grocery store and go after her. Or is that how things go now?
“Okay, Brant. You let me know how that goes.”
As soon as we land, the driver takes us to the agency where I meet Rick. If I had to keep track of all my contracts, my head would explode. Rick handles everything from the label down to my guitar pick endorsements. He keeps up with everything along with getting me the social media post-endorsements too.
“So, we’ve gone platinum.”
“We?” I gape at his small form. Rick is short and wears these obnoxious suits to match his bouncing personality.
“Yeah. We. Does it matter? I just said platinum,” he shouts.
I chuckle from my spot on his leather couch, and he sits at the conference table. I’m tired, jetlagged, and I wish he would get to the point.
“Okay. My album went platinum. A dream come true… what does that mean?” I’m thankful and shocked, too tired to think beyond that at the moment.
“It means you should be back in the studio. What the hell is going on?”
I sigh. I really don’t want to explain it anymore.
“Rick, I’m taking a break. People do it all the time. I deserve vacation time, too.”
“But now? When everything is looking up?” He is way too energized, his beady eyes bugging out.
“Yeah. Now.”
He shakes his head. “Look, I can’t force you. But we have to compromise here, and trust me when I say if we don’t, you’ll kill your career in its prime.”
I groan and rub my eyes, but I hear him out. He knows what he’s talking about, and I don’t want all my hard work to go down the drain. I don’t want to be the artist who disappeared after one platinum album.
“Okay. I’ll bite.”
He grins, rubbing his hands together as he does. “You take your break, and it builds momentum. Then we go on a three-month mini-tour with at least one new single and promote the album going platinum. There are always more people to listen to your music.” He smirks, confident in his plan, and honestly, I trust him enough to check out.
“Fine. How long will you allow me to take my break?” I chide.
His frown is short lived before he grins. “I can do eight weeks.”
“Eight weeks to live my life? Awesome.” I stand. I could sleep those eight weeks through and still be tired.
“Oh, you’ll be fine. Once we go over sales figures, you’ll be singing a different tune, what with your pretty voice and all.”
I roll my eyes. I have an amazing voice—raw and unedited. My livelihood depends on it, and I account for half the nation’s honey and lemon tea sales.
“Whatever you say, Rick. I’ll see you later.”
We shake goodbye, and I finally make it home, my bags already here and a note from Julia saying I have a meeting tomorrow and to call her. I groan internally and forget about everything else as I collapse on the couch and start my eight weeks of rest and relaxation.
2
Cora
“If he has one more incident like this, I will have to expel him.”
“That seems a little extreme.”
“Miss Arnold, I’ve done all I can for your son, but—”
“She’s my sister, not my mom. You think you’d know that considering how many times we’ve been in here.”
“Damien.” I pinch my brother and give him a hard look.
He makes a what look like he was innocent in all this. He knows he messed up, but he just has a thing for pulling people’s legs. With Principal Donna Green, though, I get where he is coming from. She has the whole look of a top education enforcer—dull brown hair, set brown eyes, and a permanent scowl to match. I’ve seen her fake smile, and it isn’t much better. I’ve never seen her without some sort of black or navy power suit either. Perhaps it’s because of the private-school setting.
That Damien makes a point to shit on every chance he gets.
“This is the kind of behavior we cannot condone. The talking out of turn, disrespecting faculty, and disrupting the classroom. It is not what this institution stands for, and the other students who pay good money to be there—”
“I’m going to have to stop you there, Principal Green, because it sounds an awful lot like you are implying that because Damien is on a scholarship, he is somehow different than the other students. And that would just be a class-action lawsuit waiting to happen.” I lean forward and hear Damien snicker next to me.
“She’s a lawyer, remember?”
I almost roll my eyes at his antics, but this time I don’t mind. I can yell at him later. But in the eyes of others, and right now, I just have to be on his side. I have to stand up for him because it is so clear that no one here does. Yeah, I get that he is a classroom nuisance and has landed himself in trouble yet again for engaging in an argument with his English teacher about how symbolism is a social construct and that maybe Jane Eyre just never really loved Mister Rochester. I never even read that book, but from the summary of his detention slip, I don’t think I want to anyway.
“I was not implying that. I only meant that all of our students, scholarship or full scholarship or nothing at all, have invested in this institution to learn, and classroom interruptions make that very difficult.”
I lean back again and cross my legs in my overly tight skirt. Not because I don’t know my size, but because Puerto Rican thighs don’t make clothing very easy to fit in the right way.
“I understand. And Damien and I will have a long discussion about this, and I will make sure he doesn’t do anything like this again.” I glance at him with a pointed look. He grins, and his little dimple that makes me give him whatever he wants shines through.
I met the kid when I was fifteen, so much older than him with parents who just… weren’t parent
s. Since I was sixteen, I’ve brought him up by myself, and that was that. He’s a heartbreaker, a rule breaker, and the only light of my life. I’m pretty sure he could burn the school down, and I would laugh with him.
“I would hope not. He has received twelve write-ups and six detentions, and it is only the second term of his freshman year.” Donna shuffles papers on her desk, her wiry fingers swallowed in obnoxious rings.
“I understand. As I said, we will be having a long talk about this. If that’s all, I’m due in court in an hour.” I glance at my watch for dramatic effect.
“Oh, did something happen?” Donna asks with a tone that makes me want to flipe en on her.
“No, I’m an entertainment lawyer. I need to get my client out of a DUI so that she can go on tour next week. Do you want tickets?” I stand, and Damien nudges me as he does. I have very good patience, but he can easily tell when it is running thin.
“No, thank you. Damien, you know where to report?”
He scoffs and grabs his bag. I give him another hard look, and he relents. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you for your time.” He grins, and I even see Donna falter a little bit. No one can resist his dimple and flashy eyes. I’m surprised there aren’t a bunch of females knocking down the door to our house.
I rush out of the mahogany office into the even bigger hardwood and mahogany colored hallway. The whole school is a milky brown, rich, money color. I hate it. But it’s the best thing for him. It will be easier for him to get into college even if he isn’t that smart. I got the best grades, was number one in my class, but because I went to school in the projects of downtown LA, it didn’t mean shit to anyone. This… this fancy institute for K-12 education, nationally awarded and recognized with a name that gets people in closed doors, will make life easier for Damien.
“So, how mad are you?” Damien walks backward in front of me as I clank in my heels down the echoing hall. I guess everyone is in class.
“I don’t know. I’m late. And symbolism is a tough subject. But you can’t just interrupt the class.”
“The teacher called on me!” He stretches his hands in defense with a laugh. I can’t help but laugh in response as I pick up the pace.
The courthouse is thirty minutes away, and I need to be there early. Hell, my client may not even show up. Pop stars are the worst flight risk known to man, second to serial murderers with a passport… maybe. Brentwood is a little far from my office but closer to the courthouse. Still, our morning commute from the only place I could afford could be better.
“Okay. Then respectfully decline the question. Say ‘sustained’ and be done with it.”
I smirk, and it makes him smile too. I wish he would stop getting into trouble. I wish I didn’t have to get dragged down here every time he did. But I’m not his parent. I may be his guardian who keeps his life together, but at the end of the day, I’m just the big sister. The much older big sister who finds it hard to find the lines sometimes.
“All right. Next time. So, who is in trouble?”
“You.”
He makes a face.
I sigh. “You know the girl with the top-ten hit last year? With the bizarre stage act everyone went crazy over.”
“Maybe. She’s cute?”
“She practically bought her body, but sure.”
He smirks. “Then I know who that is. Give her my number.”
“She’s twenty.”
“I could pass for twenty.”
“That would also pass for illegal.”
I spin around the corner and check my watch again. This school is way too damn big.
“But… you’re doing all the chores for a month. I’m kicking back and relaxing since you decided to get in trouble again. And now I have to pick you up later after detention,” I add.
“Relax, I’ll get a ride from Jude.”
“Oh, he’s in trouble again, too?”
“He lives in detention… but pretty much.”
Jude has been his best friend since grade school. They kind of have a little storybook thing going on. Jude is extremely rich. I mean when he’s at our place, he always makes a note to point out that it’s the size of their pool house… guest room. But over the years, he has become less stuck up, and I’ve seen just how good of friends they are. So, I tolerate him. Even when he asks for grass-fed turkey instead of ‘whatever you’ve got, Mami.’
“Okay. So, you come home right after. Come home right after school every day for two weeks.”
“Ditto.”
Another turn gets me to the wide front entrance, and I stop to turn and face him.
“I mean it, Damien. Don’t get in trouble again. If you lose your scholarship, you’ll have to go to public school. Then you’ll grow up bitter and annoyed like me.” I step closer to him—even in my heels, he has one inch on me. In one summer, he’s grown to six feet tall with a deep voice and questionable textures on his boxers. Maybe he isn’t my little brother anymore, but he’ll always be my baby brother.
“That wouldn’t be so bad, though, the angry Puerto Rican thing is better on women. Fits the stereotype.” He flicks my nose which he knows I hate, but I still manage to smile through it.
I absently fix a stray hair on him. The plain uniform of khaki pants and white dress shirt with green tie has grown with him since I got him enrolled in the school his seventh-grade year, but it still looks good on him. A little man who just needs to stop growing up for a second.
“Right. Look, I have to go, just be good.”
“Uh huh. You, too.”
I can see him laughing even though I’ve already walked away. I practically run to my parking spot and crank up the air conditioning to cool down. It isn’t that it’s hot but that my clothes and certain body type heat up very easily—no space between the thighs, definitely no space between the bust, and because I’m not keen on cutting tacos out of my diet, a little extra around the middle. I tell myself most thirty-year-olds look this way—maybe they had children first but still, most.
Mainstream music keeps me company on the drive to the courthouse, and when my client’s song comes up, I almost laugh at the irony. It amazes me how these rich and famous people so easily mess shit up for themselves. Polly Wright is lucky to be with such a good agency and with a killer lawyer like me. Her stage name is known everywhere, but I refuse to say it out loud, even in the hearing when I get her out with a slap on the wrist and nothing more than a fine instead of probation and an even bigger fine.
I don’t get more than a thank you, but I don’t really mind. It isn’t my job to be friends with them. I took up entertainment law because I knew it would be good for family life. I don’t have a family, I mean Damien life. I don’t want to miss anything, and I want good money, and this does it. In the many years after law school, I danced around enough internships to pay bills and let me figure out what I really wanted to do. Entertainment law won me over after an interview with the senior partner of the law division at the talent firm, Strike Management. I don’t know who all is represented, but I’ve been in court enough to know that almost every genre is in-house. Thinking about what could be waiting for me at my desk is enough to distract me and get lost in the vast parking garage of the building.
“Great.” I circle around and look, but don’t remember where I parked.
“Are you lost?”
The voice is too clean to be a creep, too deep and charming. I turn and find the origin of it coming down the wide expanse of the parking garage. I can’t make out much other than him being tall, wearing jeans and a Henley like he invented them.
“Depends…” I clear my throat and clutch my purse over my shoulder as he gets closer.
I think about stuff like this sometimes and wonder if people actually have movie moments like these. When he gets close enough for me to dive into his smooth gray eyes, I see every inch of his perfectly crafted face even under the unflattering garage lighting—a chiseled, heart-shaped jaw around his full lips curved up into a smile. An unwavering
nose between his brow ridge and a strong stature complete his ‘I’ll have you thinking of me all night’ look.
“On?” His grin widens into a full smirk and creates a dimple suited for nothing other than licking. It must have been a long time since I’ve had sex because I’m not usually this sexual of a being.
“Um… nothing.”
“So, you are lost? You didn’t bring your ticket with you?” He comes closer so that my personal space is officially invaded, but I don’t care.
“I was in a hurry, but that’s…” He leans in, and I almost lose my footing. Almost. “Neither here nor there.”
He chuckles a deep rumble I feel despite a passing car.
“Are you in a hurry now?” He makes a show of looking me over, and I wish I wore my nicer clothes today and not my court clothes. I can’t look too flashy for the judge, so my plain black skirt and dark blue blouse do the trick. But if it were an office day, I would look just as flashy as everyone else. When everything gets paid, and Damien has what he needs, clothes are the only thing I let myself indulge in.
“No, just need to find my car.” I chew the inside of my lip and shift on my feet looking around, but my eyes still come right back to the beautiful man in front of me.
I mean handsome doesn’t even cover it. Sexy, maybe. Handsome… eh. This man is what we hoped to get from the fantasies we wished would come true—his muscles peeking through his shirt, his clavicle raised, and skin a nice tan. Don’t look down—yep, pants perfectly filled out too.
“May I?”
I make a face when his hand goes right toward my chest but keep from saying anything when I realize he is just reaching for my keys. I’m cursed with an ample chest that doesn’t hide in any type of shirt. But he is looking at me that way, and I’m not stupid enough to ignore or deny it.
“Sure.” I hand over my Jeep keys and watch him curiously, mostly at how perfect his hands are as if I have a thing for hands… maybe I do. They’re perfect, his knuckles dent so that tells me he uses his hands a lot, maybe for work. His forearms are exposed in the way he rolled his sleeves up speckled with hair and road-map veins that only distract me.
Wilde About Brant - The Brothers Wilde Series Book Two Page 2
