That was the funniest part of it all, that as she settled in and got Clay organized in a way he’d never been before, she realized additional things she needed to do to help him, things he hadn’t even thought of.
Part of her wondered if she was inventing ways to make herself invaluable. Maybe she was, but she also realized that Clay hadn’t been joking when he said he needed someone to “organize his shit.” She wondered how he’d gotten along without an assistant for this long, and she figured it was mostly thanks to Mary.
Mary was amazing. Emily already loved the woman. She was good at her job, but more than that, she was patient and kind and she kept Clay’s house from falling in disarray. It didn’t take long for Emily to realize how disgusting Clay’s house would be if not for Mary. That was another thing that drove her crazy, but she’d get past it.
Clay had already thanked her too. His bills were now caught up and all his paperwork organized. His email was almost caught up as well, and he had mentioned that maybe next week he would have her help him out with Facebook and Twitter. His bandmates had kept telling him he needed to participate online at least semi-regularly. Fans liked to reach out and they would think he was stuck up if he didn’t post at least occasionally. He told Emily he was pretty sure he hadn’t ever tweeted—at least not sober—and the last time he’d been on Facebook had been around New Year’s. Brian was also a regular Instagram addict, often posting semi-nude selfies and getting five-hundred likes from what they assumed were rabid teenage girls in less than an hour.
She’d also bought a Rolodex and started organizing the contacts she knew about, and she’d put most of his computer files in order to make sure what she needed would be easier to find. There wasn’t much. There was more porn on the computer than anything else. She’d almost deleted it and had decided against it. It didn’t stop her from filing it away in its own folder, though, and she’d marked it PORN in big letters so she wouldn’t accidentally open it later.
She didn’t get guys and their porn fascination. She didn’t hold it against him, but she didn’t want to see it.
The hardest part was settling into her own room. She didn’t plan to be here forever, so she didn’t want to get used to it. Instead of setting up her room like she would have if she’d been a student again, she treated it like a hotel room. She unpacked her clothes and everything she’d need for day-to-day living, but decorative things and other items like most of her books stayed in boxes, tucked away in her closet. Fortunately, having been a student for the past several years, she didn’t have much to her name. Most of her keepsakes were still in her father’s house. The plan was to someday move it all out, but she wasn’t ready yet. She wanted someplace permanent before she fully extracted herself from her dad’s house. As it was, she was afraid it would kill him when she’d have to. She’d been his whole life for way too long.
That first night was strange. Clay was definitely a night owl…and she wasn’t. She’d heard him being all hyper as he often was, watching fifteen minutes of some CSI rerun and then going back to the music room and strumming some chords. Then he’d come back out and get on the phone, microwave some popcorn, put in a movie, and after a bit, go back to play more music. She had a hell of a time going to sleep.
It wasn’t until the third or fourth night that she heard him playing a porn movie on the television. Jesus. At first, she hadn’t known. The music was a little cheesy, but she could barely hear the dialogue. It wasn’t until she heard the gasping and groaning that she figured out what was going on. She’d been horrified, thinking at first that maybe Clay was fucking some woman in the living room.
God. That was embarrassing. She wished she had a bathroom connected directly to her bedroom in case she had to go to the restroom or something. That reaction was just thinking of the worst case scenario. So she wound up covering her head with her pillow to drown out the noise.
Again, though, it wasn’t that she had a problem with it necessarily. It was that she had to then picture Clay watching the video. She had to wonder what he was thinking, what he might possibly be doing. It was too much.
She just hoped this wasn’t going to be the most difficult year of her life.
* * *
It had been a great first week. Not only was Emily quite easy on the eyes, she was more than he’d ever dreamed of in terms of a Personal Assistant. All the things he’d hoped to gradually give to someone else (basically, all responsibility except his job and the money that came with it) she’d taken over in a matter of hours. And then she put together a list of things she thought she could do in addition. It got him to thinking of all the other bullshit his bandmates had told him he needed to do in order to keep their fan base interested and engaged.
She was smart. That should have intimidated him, and it might have, but underneath her cool, professional exterior, he saw something else. One thing he noticed that he liked was she seemed to be sweet. In a way, she reminded him of Valerie—a little naïve and way too trusting. That made the Clay part of him want to protect her, much like he’d tried to protect Valerie. But there was a problem…Emily seemed to be attached. He should probably ask about it, get it all out on the table right now.
The other thing he’d observed when her armor was down was something smoldering just underneath the coolness. Once or twice he’d looked up or turned around and he’d have been shocked if she’d said she hadn’t been checking him out or thinking about him in a way that wasn’t completely professional. Again, though, he didn’t plan to push it. Not only did he want to keep her as an employee (a job she was already amazing at), he didn’t need a sexual harassment lawsuit, and Mary had convinced him it would happen if he wasn’t careful.
He’d definitely have to be cautious.
So, week two, they were in the kitchen. Yeah, he was actually up before ten AM thanks to this woman. He hadn’t showered yet, but he was gradually working into being up earlier day by day. He wondered if she even knew she’d had that influence on him. The office was clear on the other side of the house, so even when she was on the phone, her voice didn’t bother him much. And he liked hearing it on those occasions when she was a little louder.
He’d also caught her playing music on the computer more than once. It was quiet, but he heard it. Most of the time, she’d be playing a band he liked (and that was what convinced him once and for all she was the real deal), like Alice in Chains, Stone Sour, or New Medicine, but a couple of times, he heard her playing the latest Last Five Seconds album. Maybe she hadn’t been a fan before and was trying to acclimate herself, or maybe she really liked his stuff. She’d said so, but he wasn’t sure. Clay wasn’t always as confident as he should be.
That too was a problem. Clay was letting himself become comfortable with this young woman when Jet should have been present at all times, protecting himself. Having her live there had made that impossible, though, especially since she was dealing with all his personal stuff. Still, Jet made the occasional appearance, the last time playing a porno in the DVD player one night, just so she couldn’t claim later on that she had no idea he liked watching it sometimes.
That morning, though, they were in the kitchen, both drinking vanilla-flavored coffee, and she had a yellow lined tablet in front of her, black ballpoint pen in hand. “I’ll do all the grocery shopping on Monday. I do not want to go back to the store until the following Monday unless we’ve had some sort of emergency.” Clay looked up from his coffee, but Jet raised his eyebrows at her, saying nothing but laying down a silent challenge. “Okay, you’re the boss. I’d prefer to not have to go to the store more than once a week, but I will if you want me to.”
“I’ve already seen the shit you eat, sweetheart. Don’t tell me you don’t like to shop more often than that.”
That had thrown her off guard. “What do you mean?”
He smirked. “I haven’t seen you eat any meat yet. I’ve seen you eat a lot of vegetables, and I have to guess you prefer them fresh.”
She cleared he
r throat. “You have a good refrigerator.”
“You vegetarian?”
He could tell by the look on her face that she was flattered he’d noticed. “Yes. Actually, I’m vegan.”
“What’s that mean exactly?”
She grinned and looked down at the paper, writing something down. “You don’t really wanna know.”
“Yeah, I do. That’s why I asked.”
She took a deep breath. “It means I don’t eat any animal protein at all—no meat, and no dairy or eggs.”
“Seriously? What the fuck do you eat then?”
“Everything else.”
Man, did he have a nasty joke he could say, but he wasn’t going there. And he did have a respectful question for her after all. “Like…?”
“Haven’t you been watching what I eat?”
He shook his head. “A little. I guess that explains the soy creamer you put in your coffee. I know you ate a salad and soup one night. Maybe a burrito? I couldn’t tell. And when we had Chinese takeout, what did you have?”
“Kung Pao Tofu.”
“Ah, tofu. Sounds lovely.”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
“I had it once. Once. It was like chewing on a fucking sponge. No, thank you. If being vegetarian’s so great, why do you have to eat fake meat?”
“That’s not it. I don’t expect you to get it.” She wrote something else on the paper. “But I have to cook for myself anyway. I’d be happy to make extra if you want to eat it.”
“What? And give up my Hungry-Man dinners and Red Baron pizzas? I’ll be lost without them.”
Her laugh was genuine and boisterous, and his heart was warmed that she’d want to include him in on her dining habits. He was dubious about the way she ate, but he’d be willing to try. It meant that they could spend more time together anyway. At night, she’d mostly been going to her room and, he suspected, reading a book. She seemed sad and lonely. But before he could ask the question, she said, “If you’re sure.” She started writing more things on her list and then added, “I’ll get any other things you want too, just in case you don’t like what I cook.”
“I can help too.”
“Cook?”
“Yeah.”
She smiled again. “Awesome.”
As she continued writing, he saw the opportunity. He’d licked the coffee off his spoon and used it to tap the platinum diamond band on her left ring finger. “So what’s up with that?”
Again, she looked a little taken aback. She didn’t smile this time. She just said, “That’s my engagement ring.”
Fuck. Yeah, he was afraid there’d be another guy in the picture. A prime girl like this couldn’t be without a man. No way. Still, there hadn’t been any mention, so he’d been holding out hope. Now, though, the cat was out of the bag, so he might as well pursue it. “Yeah? Who’s the lucky guy?”
She took a deep breath and sipped at her coffee. “His name’s Bryce. He and I both went to CU-Boulder Leeds School of Business. We both just graduated with our MBAs.”
“What’s that?”
“MBA? It a Master’s degree in Business Administration.”
“So when are you tying the knot?”
She shrugged and started doodling on the paper. “No idea.”
No solid date? That made Jet think that maybe, just maybe, there was a shred of hope.
Chapter Eight
ARRANGING CLAY’S WHOLE part of an upcoming charity concert hadn’t been too big a pain in the ass, but he had been. He’d been overly excited about the whole thing, and so Emily couldn’t discuss business with him at all. Two days. Two. Stinking. Days. And the guy was out of control. Emily thought she was finally getting a feel for how Clay worked after being in his employ for two weeks, but she was starting to believe she had no idea. Every time she thought she had him figured out, he’d pull the rug out from under her.
Still, it was an almost boy-like sense of fun and play that had him distracted and running around like a kid in a candy store. Even though he was driving her nuts, keeping her from getting work done, she couldn’t help but smile. He’d pull out a guitar almost like a dress and ask if she thought that was the one he should take. He’d go back in his music room then and grab another.
Mary had told her she loved Clay, but she was glad when he had to be gone. It gave her a break. When the band would tour, he’d be gone for weeks and months at a time, but this was just for a few days. Still, Emily had the mail held for that time since she’d have to accompany him.
She was trying not to let it bother her, but Bryce hadn’t been communicating much either. He’d sent a couple of emails, but she saw his regular posts on Facebook. He was posting a lot of pictures. It looked like they were having a lot of fun, and she was glad for that, but she was a little irritated that he couldn’t be bothered to just talk with her for a few minutes.
So she immersed herself in getting Clay prepared for the charity concert. He didn’t have a list of what he should take, even though the guy had been playing in concerts and had been on the road for years. She spent a few days compiling a list after getting the details. The concert was going to be in California near the coast in a huge venue, and Last Five Seconds was one of several bands playing. They were raising money for a school that had been devastated in a tornado in Kansas just a couple of weeks earlier. Emily couldn’t remember the exact details, but one of bands was from the town—that very high school, in fact—and had wanted to do something to help. She’d read through the list of bands and saw that Last Five Seconds was one of the heaviest ones on the ticket, and they were playing late afternoon.
She would never say it out loud, but she was excited. Her dad wasn’t a rich guy by any means, and so she’d never done much traveling. She hadn’t been to California since she was a child—since her mother was alive, in fact—and she remembered loving the beach. She couldn’t wait to see it again, see if she loved it as much as she thought she did.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to make the travel and accommodation arrangements. Apparently, their manager had taken care of all that. Clay had only received one email from the guy. He talked more on his phone to him. Emily reminded Clay a couple of times that he could give his manager the landline number and she could deal with him, but Clay said they’d both be murdered if he did that. Clay was viewed as a “loose cannon,” and Dennis was only satisfied if he talked to Clay himself. That wasn’t to say that the man hadn’t felt more than a little relief knowing Clay now had someone to keep him on track.
As the day approached, though, Emily felt even sadder. She wanted to tell someone her exciting news. She’d told her dad, but already her father wasn’t happy that she was actually living in Clay’s house, although he understood why. She’d explained to him that she was “hired help.” He also wasn’t too thrilled that he belonged to one of those “hippy” bands Emily adored, the ones that sang about sex and drugs with curse-infused lyrics. So she couldn’t exactly celebrate with him. She’d emailed Bryce, telling him they were flying out to California and staying for a few days. He hadn’t emailed back yet.
For Bryce, it wasn’t a big deal. His family was constantly flying here and there, several times a year. Emily had never been invited on their spring break vacations to Mexico, even though Bryce had hinted at wanting to bring her once or twice. Emily understood why, though. His mother had never liked her. She had flat out told Emily that to her face once when they were alone together. She’d told her she hoped Bryce would get her out of his system and find someone better suited to his “station.” That had hurt, but Emily had never said a word of it to Bryce. Surely, the man could just see it.
What really gnawed at Emily was that she had felt that she wasn’t madly, passionately in love with Bryce, so why was any of this bothering her? Maybe because she did care about him on some level. He was going to be her entire future, the father of her children, so hell, yes, it bothered her that he didn’t seem to care.
His lack of
interest just drove her more into her job. She knew that, once she had a real job in a corporation, she’d never enjoy it like she was enjoying her job now. Already, she’d altered her dress somewhat. She’d worn business-type clothing most of her last year in school, but she was wearing more and more jeans and some of her summery clothes—thin tank tops and shorts. She’d even dug out a few of her concert t-shirts that she hardly ever wore around Bryce. Clay wore nothing but jeans and tees, and he hadn’t mentioned a dress code, so she thought she’d try it. The first day she’d worn a t-shirt, one she’d bought at a Disturbed concert, Clay had even said, “Bad ass,” and flashed metal horns at her.
She found, as the days passed, that she was enjoying putting Clay’s figurative house in order. He seemed to appreciate it, and it gave her a sense of accomplishment. And already traveling? That just added another element of excitement to the job. As far as the actual trip went, she was glad she didn’t have to arrange the details. The band’s equipment was leaving ahead of them, going by ground, but the band members and their personal items were flying. Emily felt a little guilty, though, and asked, “You really don’t need me there, do you?”
He laughed. “You kidding? I need you there to make sure I get to where I need to be. Trust me. The guys will be glad it’s you instead of them.”
She smiled. She hadn’t told Clay, but she had never, ever been in a plane before. All the travel she’d ever done previously had been by land. She was nervous but excited about that too. It seemed that everything she was doing with Clay was new and fun and…
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