by M. S. Parker
He shrugged, seemingly unaffected by my anger and my accusations. “She’s a grown-up.” He poured two drinks and held out one to me while he started drinking the other.
I glared at him. I knew I should leave, but I also knew I couldn’t leave things like this. This was my fucking manager, and I needed to understand why he was doing this.
“I’ll just have some water.” I moved to the small fridge he kept over on the counter and got myself a bottle of water and twisted off the lid.
“Suit yourself,” he said with another shrug. “I didn’t have a problem with you drinking.”
I stared at him, the bottle frozen just inches from my mouth. “What?”
He rolled his eyes. What had happened the Chester I knew? I looked around the room, searching for hidden cameras. Was I being punked?
He waved a hand at me. “You said I hired that girl because I had a problem with you drinking, but that’s not why. You did some stupid shit, and we needed things to cool down. She seemed like a good way to get that done quick.”
I shook my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mitzi pick up one of the joints and light it. The sickly-sweet smell joined the rest of the scents in the office, and I was tempted to take back the whiskey just to get my mind on something else.
“Now that she’s done her job,” Chester continued, “you can knock off the charity shit.”
I could only stare at him. “Excuse me?”
Mitzi let out a cackle, and another puff of smoke came with it. “You look like a pucking fussy.” She frowned. “Nope. That’s not it.”
“The label’s gonna think you went soft.” Chester poured himself another drink. “If you were some pussy pop star, that might fly, but you’ve got an image to protect. Two weekends are enough.”
I remembered what Paige said about why she hadn’t just given me the first community service project she could find. Basically, that it was the difference between paying a penance and actually changing how people saw me. She saw me as a good man, and I wanted others to see me that way too.
“Reb.” Mitzi grabbed my arm. “You really gotta try this shit. It’s amazing.”
Her pupils were so wide that I could barely see any color at all.
I jerked my arm away. “You need to stop that shit.”
She stuck out her bottom lip. “Why’re you always so mean?”
It was the sort of thing a spoiled child would say, but all it made me think of was how she’d said me being ‘mean’ had been the reason she’d cheated. And that hadn’t been the least of the accusations she’d thrown my way.
Surely I was being punked, or could two people I thought I knew have changed so drastically? Or had I just been to stupid or self-absorbed to see it?
I set my bottle of water down on the table. “I need to take a piss. Get your head on straight, Chester, and then we can talk about how things are going to be from here on out.”
Twenty-Two
Paige
With my limited knowledge, when a woman lost her virginity in a toe-curling experience with a drop-dead gorgeous rock god, she tended to tell someone. Her best friend usually. Maybe her mom. But I couldn’t tell anyone. Even if I’d had someone I considered a close enough friend in whom I could confide something like this, I still wouldn’t do it. Not while I was working with Reb.
Which meant I had no one to help me sort through all of the thoughts crowding my mind.
“Paige, can you come here?” Sybil called from her office.
I hurried inside but didn’t bother taking a seat. No matter how polite her question, she wasn’t asking me to have a conversation. She wanted to tell me to do something.
“I can’t get ahold of Chester Lhaw. His check bounced, and Mr. Dwight wants you to go talk to him about it.”
I frowned. “Re…” I cleared my throat, blinking rapidly to clear my confusion. “Mr. Union’s check bounced?” That didn’t sound right. “Shouldn’t I talk to him directly? I haven’t really had much contact with Mr. Lhaw, but I don’t think he handles Mr. Union’s money.”
Actually, I knew he didn’t. Something here wasn’t adding up.
Sybil gave me a sharp look. “Just do as you’re told and get back here with a new check.”
I was tempted to point out that I doubted upper management had specifically requested I personally go get a check. As far as I was aware, Mr. Dwight didn’t even know my name. But, then, I’d been suspicious for a while that Sybil had been pawning off some of her work on me. I didn’t mind, not when I knew I could count on satisfied clients to be honest about who’d actually done the work.
“Of course.”
I took a taxi to Chester’s office and thanked the driver when he expressed concern over dropping me off there. I had to admit, I was more than a little surprised to learn that Reb’s manager had an office in that part of town. I would’ve expected something much bigger and definitely in a better neighborhood. Then again, I’d already learned that Reb wasn’t really like anything I’d expected. For all I knew, his manager had an office at that location so that he could find talent others might overlook.
The minute I stepped inside, however, I began to rethink my theory. I wrinkled my nose and hoped I wouldn’t end up with a contact high. The entire place reeked of marijuana, alcohol, and body odor. What I knew of Reb didn’t mesh with where I found myself. The place wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t exactly clean either. Plastic plants sat at random intervals, even their leaves managing to look wilted. The desk was cluttered, the computer ancient.
“Hello?” I coughed, then tried again when no one answered, “Hello? Mr. Lhaw?”
“Back here.”
A gravelly voice drifted out of the half-open door I could see from where I stood, but I couldn’t see anything else, including the owner of the voice. I didn’t particularly like the idea of going back there on my own, and everything I’d ever been told about how to be smart as a woman in the city alone told me this was a bad idea. Still, I doubted Sybil would accept an excuse for not doing what I’d been told to do.
I took out my phone, tapped out a quick message to Reb, letting him know I was at his agent’s office, and then held my thumb over send as I walked through the door and into a smoke-clouded room.
It took me nearly half a minute for my eyes to adjust, and when they did, I wished they hadn’t.
Reb was there. Sprawled on a couch that looked like its better days had been some time in the mid-seventies, his eyes bleary and unfocused, his face slack. His shirt was half-off, one sleeve still around his wrist. He didn’t even seem to see me, but that could have been because he was clearly high on whatever he’d been snorting or shooting…or it could have been due to the half-naked woman squirming on his lap.
Half-naked was being generous. Her shirt hung over the back of the couch, and if she’d been wearing a bra, it was nowhere currently to be seen. Her breasts were small, her nipples pierced, and I could make out a tattoo, though not what it said. She had on a pair of hot-pink stilettos to match her hair and a leather mini-skirt that was pushed up high enough on her hips that I could see a hot pink thong.
I recognized her too. Mitzi Adler. Reb’s so-called ex-girlfriend. The one he’d told me he’d caught in bed with two other men. The one who’d sent him into a downward spiral so bad that he’d needed me to fix it.
She tossed her hair back over her shoulder, only now seeming to realize that she had an audience. She winked at me and went back to grinding on Reb. She started kissing his neck, her hand moving down between them…
I looked away. I couldn’t watch anymore, but I refused to leave before I did what I’d come here to do. I wouldn’t cry or even acknowledge that I felt anything at all about what was going on. I was a professional, even though my heart was pounding so hard in my chest I almost couldn’t breathe.
“Who’re you?” With his greasy hair and beady eyes, Chester looked like the stereotypical sleazy manager portrayed in movies and on TV.
I took a deep breat
h and pretended not to notice that his hand was in his pants and got right to the point. I didn’t want to be there any longer than absolutely necessary. Emotions roiled inside of me…anger and disappointment, and something else. A deep, deep sadness that threatened to spill from my eyes and down my cheeks.
“I’m Paige Ryce, and I work for the PR firm you hired on behalf of Mr. Union. Sybil Feldt sent me regarding your payment.” I ignored his greedy gaze running all over my body and wondered if I’d be able to run home for a shower before going back to work. “We need you to write another check as it seems this last one bounced. Some sort of misunderstanding, we’re sure, but we do need that payment again.”
Chester stared at me for a few seconds, his hand moving in a motion that left no doubt about what he was doing. I was just thankful he hadn’t whipped his cock out. Yet.
“I don’t have my checkbook here,” he said finally. “You want to come back to my place, and I’ll get it for you?”
“No, that’s all right.” How I managed not to gag, I didn’t know. “We’ll have a courier stop by first thing tomorrow to pick it up.”
Sybil had told me to get the check, but there was no way in hell I’d be going back to this asshole’s place for it. That was where I drew the line. If Sybil pushed it, I’d threaten to go to Mr. Dwight about all of her work I’d been doing.
“Want some blow?”
My nails bit into my palms. “Pardon me?”
Chester leered at me. “I got some great stuff. Loosen you right up. You can join us.”
I turned on my heel and walked away, taking the time only to toss a few words over my shoulder. “First thing tomorrow, Mr. Lhaw, we’re going to want that check.”
And then I was outside in the crisp September air, trying to remember that I couldn’t cry here. This was all my fault. Not what Reb was doing. That was his own stupid mistake. No, what was my fault was the pain in my heart. I’d known better than to get involved with him. He was a client and a musician. Two things I’d sworn I’d stay away from.
And that meant I wasn’t going to cry over him. I didn’t deserve that luxury. Instead, I’d do what I should have been doing all along and work my ass off.
No more repeating my mother’s mistakes.
Twenty-Three
Reb
I woke up about three seconds before I lurched forward and vomited on a rug that had seen better days.
A rug that I didn’t recognize.
Where was I, and why did I feel like I had cotton stuffed in my head?
“Hey there, sexy sleepy.”
I knew that voice, and it wasn’t one I wanted to hear. “Mitzi?”
As the haze cleared, the memories of earlier today started to come back. Coming to see Chester. Mitzi being here. The drugs. The alcohol.
But I hadn’t taken anything, so why did I feel like I’d spent the last few hours partying?
“What the hell happened today?” I frowned, searching through the haze of my memory. “It is still today, right?”
She shrugged and took a puff on a half-burnt joint. “No clue.”
I pushed up from the couch and immediately grabbed the arm as a wave of dizziness washed over me. “What…fuck…”
“You need to loosen up.” She threw a cigarette butt at me.
I ignored her. My stomach was still rolling a bit, and my head was starting to hurt. My mouth tasted like…well, like puke.
I reached for my bottle of water. There was barely a mouthful left, but it’d be enough to rinse out my mouth before I grabbed another one. I tossed the cap onto the table and had the bottle halfway to my mouth when I stopped. Mitzi was watching me, her attention locked in on my hand.
The hand holding my bottle of water.
The water that I’d left on the table when I’d gone to the bathroom earlier.
I hadn’t gotten there before, but I was there now. I lowered my hand. “Did you put something in my water?”
She gave me a guilty little smirk I recognized from when we were together. “Chester did it.”
I looked around. “Where is he?”
“Not here.” She stretched lazily, her shirt riding up to show her flat stomach.
A vague memory of that stomach, of bare breasts, drifted across my mind. Why? I hadn’t seen her naked since that night when I’d caught her being double-teamed by two overweight, sweaty bastards with bad hygiene.
“What the hell did you give me?” I tossed the bottle toward the overflowing trash can, ignoring it when it missed.
“Not me,” she insisted. “Chester.”
“I don’t give a fuck who actually drugged me! What was it?!”
“Just some Valium.” She scowled at me. “Because you needed to chill out.”
I stumbled into the bathroom and splashed some water on my face, then found some mouthwash and used the rest of the bottle to at least fix that problem. When I made my way back out, Mitzi had stripped down to her thong and was dancing on the couch.
“I’m out of blow,” she announced in a sing-song voice that pounded on my last nerve. “Go get me more.”
I stared at her for a moment, but not because she was almost naked. It was like I was seeing her for the first time. “You need to get some help, Mitzi. Living like this is going to kill you.”
“Pfft.” She flapped her hands at me. “Go get me blow and I’ll blow you.” She cackled, clearly pleased with herself. “No one else’ll be doing it now. Not after the story comes out.”
I frowned at her. “What story?”
She bounced off the couch and came to stand in front of me. “The one Chester’s selling to make you look like less of a pussy.”
“What are you talking…”
More memories came forward. Memories of Mitzi on my lap. Touching me. Kissing me. The taste of pot and tobacco on my lips. Then, something else. Something I couldn’t quite remember but had a feeling was important.
“He got lots of good pictures and even some video for TV news. We’re gonna be headlines.”
I tried to process her words, tried to make sense of why the manager I’d trusted for so long would set me up like this. No understanding dawned.
“Why the hell would he do that? I’m supposed to be getting good press now.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll. People just wanna see their stars do some penance, and public flogging isn’t really a thing.” She sneered at me. “Wouldn’t surprise me if you were into that though.”
I suddenly felt sick again, but this time it wasn’t anything physical. “Did we–?”
I couldn’t finish the question, and even though I knew I needed to know the answer, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
She gave me a coy look. “You could watch the video.”
She was right. I could find all of the answers I needed by getting to Chester before he imploded things.
“Or you could ask that prude bitch of yours.”
I stopped mid-step, the last piece of the puzzle falling into place. No, no, that wasn’t…I closed my eyes. Very slowly, I turned back to her, needing confirmation to what I already knew. “Explain.”
Shit, shit, shit, shit…
The professional part of me had wanted to go straight for Chester, stop him from taking things public, but it had been barely a moment’s consideration. Everything else in me had been screaming to get to Paige and set things straight. What she thought about me meant more than anyone else’s opinion. I needed her to know that whatever she’d seen, it hadn’t been me. I hadn’t chosen to do any of it.
It was late enough that I went straight to her apartment and prayed that she’d agree to talk to me.
“Paige, it’s me. Please let me come up. We need to talk.”
She buzzed me in without a word, but at least she hadn’t ignored me. When I got to her door, I knocked and braced myself. After a moment, I heard the locks turning, and then the door opened.
“Come in.”
Any hope I’d felt disappeared
at the ice in her words.
I glanced at her as I walked past. She was in a pair of loose flannel pants and a camisole, her hair wet and braided. And her face was completely blank. I scrubbed my hand over my chin, and then up into my hair, scowling at the feel of it.
I didn’t even want to think about what had been on that couch.
“Everything you think I did, I didn’t do,” I blurted out, unable to figure out any other way to approach the subject.
Her jaw tightened, as did her spine. I could feel her anger and revulsion radiating off her in waves. “Staying clean and sober was part of our deal. I can’t do my job if you don’t do what I ask. I’ll meet with Sybil tomorrow to move your account over to her, and she can handle things from there.”
“I don’t want anyone else working with me,” I said. Then I shook my head. “You know what, I don’t care about any of that. I just care about you knowing that I didn’t do what–”
“I heard you,” she snapped, her eyes still angry and something else…wounded. “But I know what I saw.”
“But you don’t know what happened before that.”
She raised an eyebrow as she folded her arms. “I saw the booze and the joints and all the rest of that shit. And I saw your girlfriend grinding on you with her tits hanging out. Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”
Okay, not so cold anymore. She was pissed, but I preferred that to the possibility that she didn’t feel anything for me at all.
“I swear to you, Paige, it wasn’t what it looked like.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
Something in me snapped. I moved toward her, backing her against the door. “Like hell it doesn’t.”
And then I kissed her.
Twenty-Four
Paige
He’d backed me into a corner, almost literally, to steal a kiss, but for a few blissful moments, all I could do was grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer. My head and heart told me I was being stupid, but my body didn’t care. It craved his touch like some sort of drug.
