by A. J. Sand
Feeling bold, Erica dropped her robe to the floor, too, and grabbed her jeans. Slanted a smile at him. “You’re right. Nothing you haven’t seen, either.”
“It was just a trick to get you to do that, rookie,” he said, laughing as he jumped into his light-colored jeans.
“Whoa. You dropped trou just to see me in my skivvies? You’re hardcore, Bryson Ellis.”
“Yeah, so it would be nice if you could do that whole getting dressed thing a little slower…” Bryson pulled his dark blue polo shirt down over his head.
“And what about Holly the Comet?”
“Slower within the ten minutes, babe!” It took a few seconds for her to realize what he’d said, and the rush of happiness that followed made her knees quaver. He walked back to the bathroom, but she knew his eyes were still hooked on her, and it was fun to indulge his request, so she hauled her jeans up over her hips gradually and pulled her tank top down her abdomen as slowly and sensually as possible. A soft groan sounded behind her before he stepped back in the room and leaned against a wall.
Erica went to a decorative hanging mirror to apply her makeup, and smiled at Bryson’s reflection. “What’s that look for? Is that a subtle way of saying I shouldn’t wear makeup?” Erica lifted her hand to her hip as she dusted bronzer over her skin.
“No. You can wear makeup if you want.” Bryson shrugged and smiled. “It’s just that…I keep feeling like if I stop looking at you, it will turn out that you’re not really here.” Erica’s cheeks lit up rosy, and when she took a breath, a flutter sparked in her chest, and an explosion of heat shook her entire body. He always knew how to make her feel beautiful, and he continued to take glances at her as he gathered up his wallet and keys. It was impossible not to think about how much this reminded her of times past, the parts of her life that existed on the other side of the seam.
She grabbed her clutch and followed him to the door. He held it open, freezing a deep grin on her as she stepped into the hallway. “What?” she asked as she pressed out a grin of her own.
Bryson shrugged before slugging his arm over her shoulders. “A guy can’t be happy because it’s Saturday night?” And when she tilted her gaze up to him, the smile still had not fallen away.
“Okay, fair enough,” she said, relenting, although she had a better theory, because it wasn’t just Saturday night. Nope. It’s date night.
Metairie was a large suburb just twenty minutes from New Orleans, and Bryson pulled up to Murphy’s Diner right off the interstate. It was one of those old-fashioned, 50’s-styled diners with several floor-mounted red stools lined before a long service counter, booth seating and a checkered tiled floor. The place had probably maintained its aesthetic even as the area around it modernized. Erica’s heart sank, though, when she spotted the “closed” sign hanging in the door.
“Did we miss Holly?” she asked once they were parked.
“Nope. We’re right on time…” he said before he dashed to the front of the building to rap his knuckles against the door. Erica was close on his heels and giggling at how covert all of this seemed. A dark-haired middle-aged woman approached, beaming when she saw him. “Hey, Rebekah. How are you? How’s your grandson?”
“Growing and talking so much every day.”
“So, Holly’s practicing tonight, right?”
“Yeah. Thanks for coming, Bryson. I know she’s been so wishy-washy, but we still have the contract. I think she’s leaning finally, but Carl… He’s the one needing convincing,” Rebekah said, before ushering them into a booth in the dimly lit diner, and after a quick introduction between her and Erica, Bryson showered her in gratitude for doing this. She immediately filled their mugs with coffee and brought over a basket of the biscuits the place was famous for. When Rebekah disappeared to the kitchen in the back, Bryson explained that Murphy’s was a late-night restaurant started by Holly’s grandfather to serve the truckers and travelers who were driving in the area.
“Holly works here and she always plays before they open for the night.” Bryson squeezed her hand and aimed his chin at the guitar case leaning against counter. “She doesn’t have much time to practice or play live because she works a lot. She’s been getting a lot of record deal offers, but she doesn’t know what to do. She needs management and her parents really want her to pursue her dream, but her brother doesn’t trust any of us ‘suits’ as he says. He’s really protective of her and she listens to him. He’s really the one standing in the way.”
A young woman, presumably Holly, and a young man, presumably the protective and slightly older brother, strolled out of the kitchen, and Holly shot a cheerful wave at Bryson. Two long pigtails hung down past her shoulders and her arm was adorned in silver bracelets. She made Stazia look like someone about to move into a nursing home.
“How old is she?”
“She’s turning seventeen later this year.”
Something struck her thoughts in that moment. Bryson had said he was here on behalf of Silver Method but was referencing management for Holly, and he would never steal one of his father’s clients—besides, Silver Method didn’t even have a management division. Before she could ask him to clear up her confusion, Holly took a seat on a stool and pulled out her guitar. Like some sort of bodyguard, her brother was leaning right next to her with his elbows on the counter.
“She’s really what I hope Stazia would be. They’re both really talented, but Stazia’s management is really pushing this ‘saint-slash-sinner’ image and I don’t like it. Dad doesn’t either, but he doesn’t really fight it. She has a great voice but they’d rather promote her looks. I don’t want Holly in that situation.”
Holly played the opening chords to a country version of Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding Out for a Hero” and started to sing the first verse. Erica immediately understood Bryson’s interest, and she was swept up in the way Holly commanded attention. Her vocals were powerful, but soft and beautifully vulnerable where she needed to emote a powerful feeling in the listener.
“She’s amazing, Bryce. I really like this song,” Erica whispered, and Bryson immediately slid out of the booth with his hand extended to her. She was swathed in a pleasant feeling the second her palm touched his, and it almost brought tears. Bryson had given her more than she had ever wanted in the years they were together, but it was these innumerable tiny instances where she hadn’t actually asked for anything and he was intuitive enough to just know what she needed.
A light smile flashed on Holly’s face and she stepped off the stool, moving closer to them when Erica and Bryson were in each other’s arms. Erica tucked her head right into the crook of Bryson’s neck, hugging him closer to her as he linked their fingers, and they rocked slowly to the song, with Bryson swiveling them around in coordinated steps. Maybe his dancing wasn’t so bad. He raised both her hands to the back of his neck and brought his to her waist. His stare—comforting, overwhelming and intense—plunged into her until she felt dizzy from the wave of emotions filling her chest and she had to look away. Her emotional connection to him was double-edged in its strength: in the good times, it made her feel loved in an almost spiritual way, but in the wake of everything lost, it burned painfully in an unstoppable fire across her soul.
Holly sort of circled them slowly, and in the distance, the sun was fading into the horizon, leaving the sky drenched in watercolor orange, violet and gray. She’d danced in a lot of places all across L.A. and New York, but never like this. Only Bryson could turn an empty highway diner into one of the most romantic settings without even trying. There were no words to really capture the impact this moment would leave on her heart. It would scar it, but in the same wonderful way a tattoo scarred skin, changing it forever in a way you wanted to remember.
She couldn’t stop smiling when he twirled her around.
“What? Is it my dancing again?”
Erica shook her head and laughed quietly.
“Is it weird dancing here?”
“No. You just made this the only p
lace I want to be right now.”
“Don’t even think about thanking me.” His eyes were bright…even in the fading light. “And this is the only place I want to be, too. We should dance in more diners.”
“I’d dance with you anywhere.” He twirled her around again and dipped her back, and it was only then that they both realized Holly wasn’t playing anymore, but staring at them with delight alongside the applause of the people who worked there. Erica’s face warmed beneath their attention; she’d nearly forgotten that they weren’t alone.
“Okay, let me go talk to her and her family,” Bryson whispered as he pulled her back upright. “But you have to do me a favor. Talk to the brother. I really think you’re someone who can convince him this is a good idea for his entire family.”
“We’re tagteaming it?”
“Best partner I ever had,” he with a wink as they high-fived. “Thanks, E.”
Erica signaled the brother to the empty seat once Bryson walked away. When he reached the end of the service counter, she heard him say, “Mr. and Mrs. Murphy, good to see you again, and I hope you’ve had the chance to consider some of the points I made during our last phone call and my follow-up email.” Bryson was in work mode now, and it was actually pretty fun to watch, but she already had her mission. The brother introduced himself , and there was already so much reluctance in his stare as he assessed her as she spoke.
“You’re right to be worried about Holly. She’s young, and when money comes fast and easy, it can change you, and people often stop telling you the truth because, well, the money is fast and easy. But I’ve known Bryson for a while. He’s my…he’s my best friend, for what it’s worth. He values his job, but he values the people in his life, and his clients end up being like family. She’ll be a person to him and never a paycheck. He has this intuition about what deals to go after, and he’ll actually care about what impact the companies and activities she associates with will have on her. Last year, he refused to pressure a client into signing what would’ve been a multimillion-dollar deal with a clothing company because of their alleged use of sweatshops. She also has a contract that gives her ownership of her album masters. He won’t just stop there. He’ll get to know your family really well and Holly will be in great hands in L.A. He’s a really good guy. I wouldn’t be here—”
“Whoa.” Carl held his hand up when he interrupted her. “We already talked about Los Angeles. He said she wouldn’t have to move anywhere ‘cause he’d be here with her. She’s not moving.”
“Right… my mistake.” Bryson’s leaving L.A. Suddenly, it made sense. This was the job his father had been offering him. Bryson was taking over artist management for Silver Method. The southern division of the record label was down here, so having a management company here would provide a direct pipeline to the label. Erica’s breaths shortened after her chest started squeezing in the wake of the upsetting realization. He was leaving L.A. and moving across the country. It was déjà vu in reverse. He was making a clean break, and she really couldn’t blame him for doing so. Erica forced a smile at Carl and tried to push the thoughts away, but much of the assuredness had vanished from her voice. “Anyway, he’d put a good team behind her. He wouldn’t let anyone in her circle who he couldn’t trust with her well-being.”
“Would you be part of that? You’re Erica Evigan, aren’t you? You do the public stuff?”
“Wait, how do you know who I am?”
“Well, I think my sister likes him. You know, likes him likes him. It’s a schoolgirl crush, so she asks him a lot of questions; there are some personal ones, sometimes. Your name came up a time or two. He speaks highly of you, too.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Erica looked over at Bryson and smiled at him even though he wasn’t looking at her. “I have a sister, too. She’s older but she trusts my opinion about things. We sort of have this role reversal relationship. She met a great guy, but his mother isn’t the nicest. My protective nature took over and I wanted to discourage her from getting to know him, because I didn’t want her to get hurt.”
“So she didn’t date the guy?”
“No, she did, because I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to be responsible for her missing out on someone who might love her so much. And he does…in spite of his mom. Look, Holly’s really talented. I saw the pride in your eyes when she was playing, so you know how good she is. Don’t be the reason she doesn’t get what she wants,” Erica said, slipping out of the booth. Bryson cast a hopeful glance over at her as he shook hands with Holly, her mom and her dad, and the two of them converged at the door before exiting.
“How’d it go?” he asked with a bit of anxiousness as he held it open for her as they walked to the rental car.
Erica smiled but a touch of sadness kept her lips from curving fully. “Carl and I reached an understanding. I think you…Silver Method will have a new artist on the roster very soon.”
If New Orleans really was a vampire, Bourbon Street was its blood supply, presenting a bevy of vivacious and energetic bodies to feed on in the darkness. Now shut off to automobile traffic, the street was packed with debauchery-seeking revelers and more than enough of it to fulfill their hedonistic desires, as advertised on the neon signs that glowed above nearly every establishment. Discarded plastic cups were already strewn all over the pavement. The loud, live music flowing out of the bars competed for patrons while the many gentlemen’s clubs offered promises of bottomless nudity. In fact, two clothed women—but just barely so—tried to cajole Bryson and her to step inside a club called Warm Lips as they strolled by, but they kindly declined. And all over there were stoic, sharp-eyed horse-mounted police officers patrolling the chaos.
As they moved along as part of the river of people, Erica clutched Bryson’s hand tighter on impulse. This was the kind of situation that could bring flashbacks of Thailand on a night she really wanted to not be someone who had to worry about something like that.
“You all right, E?” His eyes were narrowed on her when she turned to aim a brave smile at him. She hadn’t even known that he was looking at her.
“Yup. It’s a little overwhelming, though.” She gave an even bigger grin to allay the concern in his eyes. “This place is crazy! Time for a hand grenade!” She pointed to a sign above a store indicating that the famous drink was sold there. Erica really just wanted the collectible plastic yard cup with the smiling hand grenade bottom.
Bryson pulled his phone out and stared at the screen. “Oh shit, E, I gotta take this. Staz has called four times. Get two, okay?” He pressed a wad of cash in her hand. When she returned with the drinks, he was incredibly agitated but his phone call was over.
“Is everything okay? Is it your dad?” she asked when she handed over the drink and change.
“No, Staz has been dealing with this douchebag ex of hers. He keeps threatening to do something big in exchange for a payoff, and she won’t go to the police about it. She just wants to pay him because she’s afraid it’ll get out, so I don’t really know what to do. I’m not sure how to handle it. I’m just being a friend since she’s not my client, but I feel really bad for her, and she won’t tell me everything… Anyway, I’m not supposed to be working right now and we have a bet to settle.”
Erica’s heart tugged in sympathy for Stazia. She knew what it was like to have someone interfere with your life in a way that gave them control over you. Maybe when they got back to L.A. she would get in touch with her. “Yup, and now I think I should get some practice in for the bull!” Handing him her drink, she jumped onto his back as they made their way to French Quarter Cowboy, where the balcony above was clogged with drunken partiers shouting down at the crowd.
Inside, a woman was already atop the bull and squealing from the sharp jolts that rocked her around in the air. Erica paid for a ticket for the ride and was told to keep an eye on the digital number display on the wall near the bullpen. While the mechanical bull kept most of the crowd rapt, everyone else was grooving to the full liv
e band on stage. She and Bryson shared a pool table with another couple to bide their time.
They were visiting from Alabama, in their early thirties and incredibly fun to hang out with. Erica even pulled the woman, Samantha, out to the dance floor, and she, in turn, had used Erica as a prop to perform sexy dance moves with for her boyfriend, Billy. Erica had laughed loudly when the guys wandered out to the floor, too, and Samantha tucked herself into a Billy and Bryson sandwich. For a second, Erica had clenched her whole body, imagining Billy decking Bryson, and the whole place exploding into some brawl, but Billy only winked at Samantha.
“Money says they proposition one or the both of us before the night is over,” Bryson whispered to Erica once he managed to flee Samantha’s gyrating backside, and he quickly pulled Erica against him for a dance.
“It’s gonna be Billy,” Erica said back as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m not buying that quiet demeanor. He’s probably the one who breaks out the paddle.”
“You’re smiling a little too hard about that, E,” Bryson replied with a laugh, dropping his face to the curve of her neck. She smiled from the pressure of his warm lips as he sank a kiss into her shoulder. Erica threaded her fingers through his hair, clutching it a little when his mouth sought out her neck. Bryson drew his lips along her jawline to the edge of her mouth, teasing the spot with just a graze from the tip of his tongue. His lips parted against her cheek, and he dug his fingers into her back just above her butt. “Goddamn, Erica…” he whispered with an exhale. The surface of her skin sizzled, and on the inside, everything was pulsing, waiting, needing. It was hard not to envision them as that couple from before, free of the things that had driven them apart. And Erica dared herself not to think of them as anything else because she still just wanted to be reckless tonight. And she had a feeling he did, too.
