“Let me plan it!” Brit shouted at her.
“Whoa, calm down, Britnee. Just calm down.”
“I need this, Barbara. Everything seems to be about Saffron right now. Not only that, but that little ‘famous daughters’ interview I just did left me feeling inadequate, like a money-grubbing loser. I know it sounds completely pathetic, but I want to feel good about myself again.”
“Don’t you think you’re being just a bit dramatic? This isn’t like you.”
“I know, look what that girl does to me.”
“Remember, sis. That girl is our blood. And she’s not so bad.”
Brit made a disgusted sound. “That’s the problem. There’s not a thing wrong with her. Hell, even I like her sometimes. She’s pretty, friendly, has a great sense of style, seems to be down for anything. But enough about her, back to J.J.”
“I can bring it up to Abednego. But before you suggest anything, he doesn’t want J.J.’s album release party at the club. He’s concerned about nepotism.”
“Sure, whatever. I can find somewhere else to do it. The club would be pretty perfect, but I get it. So you’ll talk to him?”
“I’ll talk to him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
LATER THAT NIGHT, BARBARA texted.
BARBIE-DOLL: Blessing received. Go forth and party plan.
Brit’s hands trembled, she was so excited to get started. It was eleven o’clock at night, and the hip-hop artist du jour was rapping on the club’s stage about his problems in life. He was British...or Welsh, Brit wasn’t sure what was the difference. This had been one of Mike’s finds on his scouting mission to London. He was supposed to be scouting for a space for the new club, but he of course passed out bricks of business cards while he was there. And this white guy who looked like a whiny, cockney Macklemore was his find. The crowd loved him though, but he wasn’t someone Brit would’ve picked. She had to admit, Mike did make good decisions sometimes even though his instincts were completely opposite hers.
She stepped down from the elevated VIP viewing area along the side of the club and into the lobby where she could find a relatively quieter place to type. The doors to the office area were locked, and she didn’t want to bother punching in the code to find a private room. She couldn’t remember what the code was anyway.
She texted her sister back first.
BRIT: I shall.
Was it too late to text J.J.? No, he was a rock star. If he was asleep already, he didn’t deserve that title.
BRIT: Great news. Guess whose planning your album release party?
J.J. MACKDADDY: It better be the baddest babe in Toronto.
If he was talking about Saffron, Brit would lose her shit.
BRIT: Sure hope you’re talking about me, J.J. Mack.
J.J. MACKDADDY: Who else?
Yes, another project.
Her phone dinged again.
J.J. MACKDADDY: Good news here too. Maybe found a date for your friend Daisy.
BRIT: Really????? You. R. The. Best.
Usually, Brit didn’t care for shortening things up in text messages, but she was too excited for formality at the moment. The stars were aligning. The world was returning to normal.
J.J. MACKDADDY: Oh, and Saffron had some good ideas for my release party.
Dammit.
THE PERFECT SPACE WOULD’VE been Club Stanza. The second perfect space, Brit was disappointed to admit to herself, was the brick building where her fake interview celeb kids party had taken place a week ago. She stopped into a few other clubs, including Elysium, a few banquet halls, and the back rooms of several restaurants. She tried to be open-minded. There was an indoor skate park that would be interesting to rent out, but the insurance alone to have all those people around the ramps wouldn’t be worth it. Lander would kill her himself.
She arranged a time for J.J. to see the place. They met there because J.J. had something to do beforehand. Brit brought Lander so that he could see the place she had been talking up. She wanted Barbara to see it too, but Barbara had booked a modeling gig—she hadn’t had one since she got engaged, and she didn’t want to rely on her future husband’s income entirely, or her father’s. Brit thought Barbara’s motive was more likely to prove that she wasn’t turning into an old married lady before she even walked down the aisle, but she kept that to herself. There are some things sisters can say in jest, and there are some things that should just be left unsaid.
“J.J.’s late.” Lander dug his hands into his pockets. As chill as he was, he was also a businessman, and time was money to him. Brit thought she noticed a couple more gray hairs in his goatee.
Brit checked her phone. J.J. was only two minutes late, and she was about to tell Lander as much when who should come around the corner but J.J. and Saffron.
Lander squeezed Brit’s shoulder and said quietly before they arrived, “Before you say anything, I suggested Saffron come.”
Brit didn’t take her eyes off the two approaching bodies. “You read my mind.”
“I got you Byers ladies figured out.” Lander rubbed his hands together as the couple approached. “Welcome, welcome.” He checked his watch. “Let’s get this show on the road. I have another engagement I have to get back for.”
“Are we late?” asked J.J. He checked his wrist, which had several thin leather bracelets on it but no watch. He looked less than business-like again with a close-fitting Hawaiian shirt with sleeves rolled up to show his biceps.
Brit jumped between Lander and J.J. before Lander could switch to his serious business voice. “You’re fine. Shall we?”
She led the way into the building. “Now, J.J. and Saffron have been here before, but I wanted to take another look at it to see if it can accommodate a sizable crowd. And I wanted to get your opinion, of course,” she deferred to Lander.
“Of course, of course. Let’s look around. I like this architecture. I have some trepidations though. The acoustics can’t be good in here.” He pointed around the room. “With all this brick.”
Brit dug a leather-bound planner, newly purchased, out of her purse and cracked it to a Notes page after all the calendar pages. She clicked a pen and scribbled onto the paper. “I did think about that, but I’ll make a note. I’m going to have drapes brought in. Thick theater curtain drapes on free-standing poles that we can put in front of the walls. That should add some ambiance and sound dampening.”
“Ooh, look at you! I’m impressed.” Lander gave her shoulder an appreciative pat, and even Saffron’s eyebrows bobbed like she was impressed with the suggestion.
“This place is dope, but I still think the skate park would’ve been fate,” said J.J. “Saffron was saying that we could put barricades around the ramps—”
Lander put his hand up like a crossing guard. “Let me stop you right there, son. There is no way a flimsy velvet rope is going to stop a bunch of wasted individuals from climbing a ramp and jumping off. I don’t want to take any chances.”
Brit poised the back of the pen against her chin. She regretted not bringing her glasses in order to look even more serious. “Lander has a point. It’s not worth the risk, as fun as it would be. I shouldn’t have suggested it and gotten your hopes up.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m just totally going to break in and have an underground rave and misbehave.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Lander took a slow lap around the room, inspecting outlets, poking spots in the wall with his fingers, running his foot over seemingly uneven places in the flooring. “I’m concerned.”
Brit appeared at his side. “About what, in particular?”
“Do you want to serve food at this thing? Because I usually like to serve hors d’oeuvres, and this doesn’t look like the best space for it.”
“Sure.” Brit tucked the planner under her elbow. She gestured to one wall with both hands. “We can put the bar there, and there’s an alcove there were we can set up a buffet.”
Lander made a low
groan of disapproval.
“Better yet, we can hire servers to carry trays of hors d’oeuvres around if that space looks too cramped for the food.”
“That would be fine if the servers stayed in this area. We need a dance floor, and I don’t want food on the dance floor.”
Brit nodded. “Right, the DJ can set up there on the other side of the space with the dance floor in front of him. I assume you’re not going to be the one DJing?”
“Me?” Lander pointed to himself. “Absolutely not. I have enough going on that night.”
“I’ll find someone else. DJ Knight maybe.”
“You’ll never get DJ Knight. Not for something like this.”
Brit noted the challenge in her future brother-in-law’s voice and was up for it. “Try me. J.J., you shall have DJ Knight spinning at your release party.”
“Aw man, that would be sick.”
Brit then fixed her attention on J.J. “You should probably plan on wearing something nice that night. Something with sleeves. I want it to be upscale and sexy. You sing sexy music. It should be a sexy party.”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem with the guest list I have planned. But why do I have to change my wild style? I thought you liked it.”
“I do.” Brit approached him and unrolled one of the sleeves of his shirt. “On second thought.” She rolled it back up again. “You had a better instinct with the cuffed sleeve. Just don’t wear anything sleeveless. Deal?”
“Yeah, deal.”
“If you want, I can help you pick something out,” Brit offered.
“Only if I get to pick something for you to wear.” He broke into a mischievous, open-mouthed smile, waiting for her reply.
“I like that idea. It’s your party. By the way.” She flipped open her planner again before she had a panic attack about someone else—namely, a man that she was extremely attracted to—having complete control of her style. “Themes. Do you want a theme or a dress code? Black party, white party, red party, et cetera?”
J.J. rubbed his chin. “Hey, I do like that idea. Say black or white, and then I’ll show up in something red.”
“Sounds like we’re good here. Make it happen, Brit.” Lander gave his blessing again and then departed to get to his meeting.
Brit scribbled down the notes about the dress code and ideas for verbiage on the flyers and invitations. “Do you have any ideas, Saffron?” She was here. Might as well get her input, if she had any.
“You mentioned the curtains. I may be able to help with that. I have some theater connections. We could do themed food, too. Black, white, red. I’m not sure what black food we could find. Caviar?”
“I like that,” said J.J. “You wanted high class, Brit. That would do it.”
Brit wrote it down, but she didn’t have much faith in the idea. “I don’t think Lander is going to bless that big of a budget in order to serve caviar, but I can run it by him. Maybe olives instead. And while I like how you’re thinking cohesion, I don’t want to go too far with the theme either.”
“You could do it in a classy way though,” said Saffron. “So it’s under the radar, so no one would notice, but if they thought about it, they’d appreciate it.”
J.J. snapped his fingers. “Strawberries. Raspberries.”
Saffron volleyed with her own suggestion. “Meringues. White.”
“I appreciate it and will think about it,” promised Brit, now scribbling something else she had thought of instead of trying to come up with different kinds of black, white, and red food. “Out of curiosity, before we go too far with this, what color is your album cover?”
“All blue.”
Silence.
“There ya go. You aren’t too theme-y now,” said Saffron, pointing finger guns in Brit’s direction.
“You could show up in blue,” she suggested to J.J.
He shook his head. “I like the red idea. It has more impact. The crowd could all wear blue.”
“I feel like we’re bumping up against American pride if we go too red and blue. Or French pride, I guess. We have some good ideas though. I think we can run with this. I’ll work out the details and let you guys know if I need any help.”
They parted ways from there. J.J. got a call as they were leaving the building, and Saffron had another interview lined up that Cord had a hand in hooking up for her. Brit hadn’t noticed at first, but Saffron did look more business formal than usual. She had her blazer draped over her arm but put it on when the three were outside.
Brit, on the other hand, wanted to get back to the club to borrow Mike’s office to get the party planning going. She said a half-hearted goodbye to Saffron, and J.J. offered a single wave as he spoke in a low voice into his phone.
Back at the club, she stalked straight into Mike’s office but found it occupied. By Mike.
He was stroking his dark brown goatee, hunched over his computer with one ankle propped on the opposite knee. The chair looked too high or the desk looked too low, or Mike was just too long in general, but something looked ergonomically off about the scene.
Whatever it was brought Brit to a halt in the doorway. “Oh. Hi.”
Mike’s eyes flicked up in her direction. He let his leg drop to the floor and his elbow fall to his knee. “What can I help you with?”
“I’m just not used to you being here. I was going to use your office to make some album release party plans for an artist Lander is working with.”
“Ah, sorry to disappoint.”
Brit was still coming to terms with the fact that there was a man at the desk that apparently belonged there although it still didn’t look like he did. He looked like he was bigger than the desk. An enigma of sorts.
“You didn’t disappoint. My dad’s happy to have you around. He’s excited about the ideas you brought back from London.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah, hey, that rapper you booked brought in a big crowd too. Kudos on that.”
Mike didn’t need the approval of the boss’s daughter in the least. Anyone else may have melted from Brit’s approval, but Mike was harder to impress. He knew he was good. He just did his job and waited for everyone else around him to realize he was good too.
“Do you have a computer at home you could use?”
“Do I have—? Yeah, of course I do. All the contacts I need are here though. You know what, don’t worry about it. I’m not going to kick you out of your office, Mike. I’ll go see if my dad’s using his computer.” That was a joke. Lonnie’s computer had never been touched by him. He was constantly sitting in front of a dead screen. Brit wasn’t even sure of the last time it had been booted up by him, if ever.
Her father’s office was vacant, so she settled in front of the computer in his large, lived-in leather chair that smelled like whatever after-shave he used. And a little like pot.
As she suspected, the computer had to take its time warming up and getting the latest updates, so she leaned back and swung back and forth in the chair while she waited.
Somewhere, they had a digital rolodex of all the contacts they had acquired over the years. It was heavily protected, and Brit was only partially sure she remembered the password. She couldn’t remember where the program was either.
A tall blond form walked by the door, stopped, and stuck his head in the room. “Lonnie, the pink hair. I love it.”
“Cord, you’re hilarious. Come here and help me with this. Where’s all that contact information kept? The rolodex thing?”
Cord leaned onto the desk, one hand planted on the back of the chair and one inches away from Brit’s hand on the mouse. “May I?”
She moved her hand into her lap.
He brought up the program. “Do you remember your login?”
“I have a login?”
“You should. Everyone who has access has a unique login.”
Brit looked blankly up at him.
“Here, use mine. Just don’t tell Mike I gave it to you.” He placed his hands on t
he keyboard, and his body naturally leaned closer to Brit. The scent of her father’s aftershave was replaced by Cord’s alluring deodorant. It was weird, but Brit wanted to curl up in his armpit whenever she smelled it. And in the next moment, she wondered what J.J. smelled like. He pulled a guest chair over and settled into it. “So, you said you were going to tell me what the deal is with you and Saffron. You...want to talk about it?”
Brit made a phlegmy sound in the back of her throat.
He put up his hands. “We can change the subject.”
With a deep breath, she launched into it. “Saffron’s super close with her mom, right? So why does she want to move to Toronto? And the fact that Barbara knew but I didn’t was a little jarring. I get that this looks like jealousy, but whatever. My dad loves all three of us—he makes that abundantly clear, but having Saffron around only for a short period—he’s more attentive to her since he has less time with her. And she never seems to appreciate him! Why now?”
Brit checked Cord’s response. He sat silent, expecting her to go on. So she did.
“Despite his flaws, I have endless amounts of respect for my dad and what he’s accomplished. I know I’m privileged, and I try not to take it for granted, helping out where I can, being a companion to him if nothing else. Meanwhile, Saffron sauntered off to college in the States with dad’s money without her mother contributing a dime despite her mother being in the U.S. And did she come home for Thanksgiving or Christmas? No.”
This time, Cord opened his mouth to reply, but Brit couldn’t leave herself sounding like a whiny brat. “And I know you like Saffron, so sorry for dumping this on you.”
Brit with the Pink Hair (The Rockin' Austen Series, #1) Page 17
