Brit with the Pink Hair (The Rockin' Austen Series, #1)

by Bryan, Rebekah N.

Brit instructed Cord to sit down and told him how to position his elbow so that they could recreate the scene from the previous night. Then she took her three fingers and ran it over his pale forearm.

  Cord let out the smallest of moans. “What was that guy thinking?”

  “It was funny ‘cause yesterday I just wanted to be anyone but myself, so I actually wore pink.”

  “Pink. I would love to see you in pink. Not that you don’t look good in black and white—you do—but it would be interesting.”

  “Anyway.” Brit charged on before she had a chance to be embarrassed or think too hard about what Cord said. “Today I’m looking more like myself in my black with my dark pink hair. It’ll be interesting to see how this guy reacts to me this time. Oh! And he’s short.”

  “That’ll be interesting.” Cord pointed to Brit’s black chunky-heeled mules that she was wearing that day.

  “I know, it’s funny. He wasn’t that short, and I would have been fine with it if there was any connection, but there wasn’t.”

  “When is he expecting you?”

  “I told him I’d meet him in a half hour. It’s not far from here.”

  “Let’s finish this up, and then we’ll go.”

  “Cord, you really don’t have to.”

  “Brit, don’t argue. I’m going. I could use a smoothie anyway.”

  “Fine, but don’t look like you’re with me because I don’t want him to think I brought backup or something.”

  “I will be invisible like a ninja,” said Cord.

  “Whatever you say, Bruce Lee.”

  BRIT WAS INEXPLICABLY nervous anticipating Kevin’s reaction. She didn’t try for pretty and girly this time. She was her true form in a simple black t-shirt that showed a sliver of belly and an accordion-pleated calf-length skirt. Kevin had a slight smile when Brit approached the door, but his smile quickly dissipated.

  “You have my planner?” she asked.

  He took it from under his arm and held it out to her. “You look different,” he said.

  “I look like myself,” she said, turned on her heel, and strutted out with Kevin staring behind her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  BRIT WALKED INTO THE team meeting to a group of faces looking at her like she was a bomb waiting to go off. Except for Mike...and her father. Mike’s back was toward her, and he didn’t bother turning around when she entered. Her father looked like his normal, pleasant self. She was always careful not to sit next to her father because she didn’t want to look like daddy’s little girl. The other empty seat was by Mike, so she took it.

  “Why is everyone looking at me like that? Did you hear about J.J.’s show getting canceled and think I was going to explode all over this table or something?”

  Cord was quick to answer first. “Vincent is back.”

  “What? Why? What do you mean, Vincent is back?”

  “His current manager called and tried to book him at the club again.”

  Brit shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

  “Now, Britnee.” Her father put his hand out to reach for her, but she was too many seats away.

  Brit backed up. She had to make herself sound rational to be taken seriously. “All I’m saying is that he just played here like a month ago. That’s way too soon to have someone back. Have we ever done that before?”

  Someone piped up. “There was that one time a band did a show in October and came back for a Christmas show at the end of November.”

  “This is not that.”

  Her dad raised an imaginary gavel with his eyes.

  “But that is a good point,” she continued, being cordial again. If she was going to help run this empire someday, she would have to get there by being diplomatic. But she knew she’d never be as fair and patient as her father was. And she didn’t think it was only because she didn’t smoke pot.

  Lonnie reclaimed control of his meeting. “It would be unusual, but that Vincent Gordon created a lot of buzz for himself since then. This would be the time to snatch him up for a headliner. If you remember, my dear Britnee, we have done that before.”

  He had her there. They had invited opening acts back to headline in a relatively short time if they had the potential audience that justified it. “But does he have the draw for it? “

  “Get this.” Rube had been quiet up until this point besides his sighs and grunts of pleasure at the deliciousness of his mimosa. With the promise of gossip he had to share, and his glass drained, he was at full attention now. “You know J.J. Mack was on that MTV show that’s back from the nineties? LTR?”

  “TRL,” Sharnita offered. Bartenders didn’t have to attend every meeting, but Sharnita was being groomed for a leadership position.

  “Right, right. TRL. J.J. co-hosted, and guess whose new music video premiered that he had to announce?” Rube didn’t wait for her to answer. “Vincent’s.”

  Brit made a guttural sound in her mouth. “How did he get a music video so popular?”

  Rube shrugged. “Better management than J.J.” Rube was wearing a British military-inspired jacket but instead of gold fringe at the shoulders, it was an eye-searing citron color. The fringe bobbed when his shoulders did.

  Brit tried to stop herself from jumping across the table and ripping the dancing fringe from his jacket, and she was sure her face was turning the same color of her hair. She waited for Cord to take the first stab at defending his brother’s honor.

  “I don’t know about ‘better,’“ Cord muttered.

  “Abednego Lander is a god around these parts,” said Rube. “But would he be able to hook up a spot on a huge American network?”

  “Yes.” Brit lay her hands on the table, and they felt damp and clammy against the cold surface. “In fact, he did hook that up. Remember what you said first, Rube. J.J. co-hosted the show, so I’d say Lander did better than whoever this joke of a manager is.”

  Lonnie brought down the proverbial gavel again to bring his meeting back to order once more. “This shouldn’t influence our decision. Lander is family, but his company can’t represent everyone, right? If Mr. Gordon is a good fit to headline, then he can headline. And that’s what we’re here to discuss. Anyone have any opinions on that?”

  “Sure, fine, let him play. I’m busy that day.” Brit checked her phone. She didn’t have any messages, but she was thinking of Daisy. She’d have to go over after this meeting and make plans with Daisy so that Daisy would have something to do the night the guy she had a one-night stand with and ghosted her would be here.

  She felt Cord watching her. Actually, she felt the whole room watching her, and the space closed in on her, heating up like a sauna.

  “Mike, what do you think?” asked Lonnie.

  “I’ve looked at his numbers. We should give him a shot to headline. He can carry a show, no problem.”

  “Make it happen.”

  ON THE DRIVE TO DAISY’S house, Brit ran through different ways to tell her that Vincent was back. She was tempted not to tell her at all, but Daisy would find out either way, and Brit didn’t want her running into Vincent somewhere around town or seeing a flyer. Daisy had forgiven her for a lot of things, but Brit wasn’t sure she’d forgive her for that.

  Brit had considered inviting Daisy out for tea, but she didn’t know how this was going to go. If they made a scene, she’d rather it happen in the privacy of Daisy’s own apartment. And she couldn’t do it over text. Not for Daisy. She would need the face-to-face interaction.

  When Brit knocked on her door, Daisy’s happy face that greeted her made her feel worse about what she had to tell the girl. She knew how quickly the smile would fade once she heard. Before Brit could spit out the news, her phone dinged.

  “Come in!” Daisy gestured for her to enter while Brit checked her phone.

  BARBIE-DOLL: Got news. You’re not going to like it.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back,” said Daisy.

  Brit settled into the couch and texted Barbara back.
>
  BRIT: I know Vincent is back.

  BARBIE-DOLL: He wants Ab to sign his new girlfriend.

  Brit fumed.

  BRIT: Over my dead body.

  She added a skull and crossbones to her text for effect. She was clutching her phone so hard that her fingers cramped. Setting it on her lap, she made a fist and stretched out her fingers. Although she had plenty more to say to Barbara on the matter, this wasn’t exactly the time or place.

  “What’s wrong?” Daisy came back into the room and set two glasses on the tray on the ottoman. “Fresh-squeezed lemonade with a sprig of mint I grew myself.”

  “That sounds amazing.” Brit took a gulp of the drink, draining half the glass. The tartness of the lemon was tempered by the refreshing mint, and it only served to remind Brit of the sour subject she was now required to bring up. “You should sit.”

  Daisy did with her eyebrows in a twist of concern.

  “OK, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Vincent is back. And I guess he’s dating someone new.”

  “I know.” Daisy’s eyes dropped to look at her own hands.

  “You knew? I was so nervous to tell you! How’d you find out?”

  “Facebook.”

  “Facebook, of course.” Brit rolled her eyes.

  “I didn’t think I’d have to see him so soon though. That’s going to be hard.”

  “He may be back in town, but that doesn’t mean you have to see him. And I don’t care what that little scumbag says to Lander, they are not signing his new skank to their agency.”

  “What?” Daisy’s face was the picture of despair. So she hadn’t heard that part of the news. “Mr. Lander hasn’t even decided if he’s going to sign me yet.”

  Brit’s stomach flipped. She was right. “Daisy, he will.” She flattened her palm across Daisy’s thigh. “He will. And if he doesn’t, I’ll find another, better manager who will.”

  Daisy’s lips turned up in a doubtful smile. “He’s the best, and you know it.” She sniffed and pushed a dreadlock out of her eyes. “But thanks for saying that.”

  Brit clapped her hands together. “I have a great idea. I have my weekly breakfast with my family tomorrow, and Barbara and Lander are hosting this week. Come. It’ll give you another chance to make an impression on him.”

  “Really?” Daisy wrung her hands in her lap and played with the brightly embroidered hem of her sundress.

  “Absolutely. I’ll pick you up. You can be my date. I’ll be over at ten.”

  THIS BREAKFAST WASN’T going as Brit had expected it to.

  The last person Brit expected to see when she led Daisy through her sister’s front door of their condo was Vincent Gordon. It was a moment of stunned silence, and then Brit heard a wheezing sound coming from inside. She side-stepped around Vincent without greeting him, but instead of finding someone in distress, she found a woman with knobby elbows and wrists and a stack of enamel bracelets clacking as she batted her hands around.

  And the wheezing? That was her laugh. The woman flicked her wrist, opened her mouth, and a long wheeze came out. This had to be Vincent’s new catch. She had big eyes made bigger still by the harsh eyeliner below them and a tangle of dark brown hair in a half-hearted droopy ponytail. Her strong nose and chin made Brit guess Eastern European descent, and her accent confirmed it.

  “You must be Brit Byers. Zee Brit Byers. You were right about her, Vincenty.” Except she pronounced it Vin-chent-ee.

  Brit didn’t like the sound of that. But she sure wasn’t going to give this lady the satisfaction of asking about it.

  “Oh, Brit, I didn’t hear you come in.” Barbara glided into the room with mussed-up auburn hair. Brit bet they had just banged one out, and when Barbara came to plant a kiss on Brit’s cheek, Brit could smell Lander’s musk on her.

  “Really, Barbie? You have company,” Brit said in a low voice in her ear.

  “That’s why it was a quickie.”

  “Brit-nay. Bewitching Brit.” Lander swept into the room looking quite pleased with himself. “Introductions must be made. Come in, come in to our humble abode. Daisy, you, too. Welcome.”

  There was nothing humble about their abode. Their place had been featured in both print and online. The vaulted ceiling loomed above with black wrought-iron banisters around the balcony against clean white walls. All the furniture was white, and giant windows let in ample light. If they ever had children, they’d have no privacy with the open concept, but it sure was breathtaking to look at for rich, childless people.

  “Yeah, you’re really just scraping by here, huh, Lander?”

  “This is the enigmatic Rosalina. Rosalina, that’s Barbie’s sister Brit, and this girl...” Lander swung his arm around Daisy’s shoulders and pulled her in close. “I have big plans for this one. Daisy the amazing.”

  Daisy looked less nauseous and bloomed like a flower at Lander’s compliment. He had never openly expressed interest in her professionally before, and Brit took it as a good sign that he was doing so in front of Vincent. Maybe all was not lost.

  Daisy’s intermission from humiliation didn’t last long. Rosalina continued that open-mouthed wheeze laugh all throughout breakfast, and each time she did it, she more closely resembled a braying donkey. Not only that, she moaned while she ate like the food was better than sex. The waffles were good, but not that good. Then, instead of using a fork with her breakfast potatoes, she plucked them up one by one with her fingers and licked the grease off when she was done.

  Not surprisingly, Daisy only picked at her food, pushing it around her plate to make it look like there wasn’t as much of it left.

  Brit had to get them out of there. She sopped her remaining pieces of waffle with maple syrup and shoveled them into her mouth, letting the fork clatter against the plate when she finished.

  “Well, that was great.” She took the time to enunciate each word, letting the sarcasm seep out of every syllable. “Daisy and I have to jet.”

  Lander got up and walked them to the door.

  “Really, Lander, her?”

  “Nobody’s signing contracts today. I got up to tell you not to cancel those party plans. Postpone ‘em. Three weeks, we got J.J. back from his stint in the states. I want a huge industry CD release party. Can you make that happen, or should I hire your dude Rube to do the gig?”

  Brit rolled her eyes. “Unless it’s Fire Island themed, I’m the one you want. I’ll make it happen.”

  “Knew you would.” He smiled and nudged her chin with his knuckle. “Daisy.” He nodded to the other girl.

  Brit hoped he’d say more to Daisy, but he left it at that.

  When the door shut behind them, Brit was both devastated again for Daisy but also buzzing to resume her party planning.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  THE WEEKS LEADING UP to J.J.’s new party were a blur, and Brit included Daisy in everything she could think to include her in just so she’d have something to keep her mind off Vincent and his dreadful new girlfriend.

  After her father suggested J.J.’s party planning would be a good family bonding activity, Brit offered some tasks to Barbara and even a couple to Saffron to appease his wishes.

  The night of the party, Brit flitted around the venue surrounded by sisters and friends and the able professionals they chose to hire, waiting for the man of the hour to appear.

  It’d been over a month since Brit had seen him, and the orange leaves outside the window, gold in the early sunset made it seem like even more time had passed. She texted with him back and forth about party plans, but the responses were short, and he said he trusted her judgment. They mostly talked shit about Vincent the whole time.

  It was fun, but she missed his flirty bedroom looks and his fine body being in her presence. She didn’t know how she would react or what their reconciliation would be when he walked through those doors. She glanced at her phone. Wouldn’t be long now.

  J.J.’s presence was apparent to Brit the moment he stepped into the party. Br
it was on the opposite side of the building by the bar finalizing signature drink names with the bartenders. She had tasted the drinks as well—just a sip before anyone arrived—so she’d have a better idea whether the names would fit or not. Firecracker Punch was her favorite—a fruity concoction made mostly of peach schnapps and a dash of Goldschläger for a kick.

  DJ Knight was setting up next to the dance floor, and he waved and called out to J.J. But Brit wouldn’t have needed him to. The air in the room changed when J.J. walked in. All the molecules stood at attention, creating a stillness of anticipation that demanded Brit to look toward the atmospheric disturbance.

  He looked good. He had stepped up his style majorly for this show. Dark red skinny pants that slouched slightly at the crotch, an apple red shirt tucked in topped with a pearly white vest, belt, and shoes, and an untied black bow tie hanging from his neck.

  Without excusing herself from the bartender, Brit migrated over to J.J. The press and decorators who had shown up early parted to let Brit pass. A spotlight shown behind J.J.’s head, giving him a gold halo around his mop of brown hair—the only unkempt thing about him tonight.

  Brit took the silk of his tie between her fingertips. “Need help with this?”

  He touched the tie himself and tugged slightly as it slipped out of her fingers. She tried not to be offended.

  “I like it this way.”

  She could sense maybe a bit of flirtation, but it felt forced. His dark, round eyes lacked their usual playfulness.

  He looked past Brit. “Gimme a sec. Gotta talk to Saffron about something. Party stuff.”

  Brit fumed. She had given Saffron way too much say in this party. She should’ve handled the whole thing herself. Sure, the appetizers Saffron picked out were amazing, and it was her idea to set up a photo booth even though Brit thought it was the cheesiest thing ever. Instead, Saffron made it subtle, with an old-timey microphone suspended from the ceiling and framed panels of glass against the wall to mimic a recording studio. Autumn from SMS was already there with her arm stretched out, taking selfies with her hot pink lips pursing against the microphone.