by Laura Benson
Table of Contents
Title Page
About Back to Good
Quote
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Acknowledgements
Copyright Notice
Charlotte Banks (Charlie) is newly graduated from college and working in public relations. She is given a case that is just a bit too close to the heart. Joey Carino is a rock god, but now with his life spinning out of control, it's up to Charlie to try and save his reputation with his record label and his fans. However, dealing with Joey means dealing with Matthew Johns, Joey's best friend and Charlie's worst nightmare.
I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.
- Jane Austen, Pride & Prejudice
To those who can’t, you can.
Getting called into your boss’s office sucks.
Getting called first thing in the morning sucks ass.
I’d just arrived at the office, hadn’t had coffee yet, and the computer was still cold. When I saw Tad Banks standing in front of my office door, and I knew this was going to be a Monday morning I should’ve stayed in bed.
With a flick of his head, he motioned for me to follow him into his office.
Damn Monday mornings.
He directed me to sit. Twitching my lips, I dropped everything and made my way to him, sitting in the padded brown club chair. I liked his office; it was warm and inviting, something Tad Banks was not on the best of days.
It was obvious his wife had decorated this space. It was masculine, but with feminine touches. The dark brown walls of the office were lit up with cheery wall accents and pictures of family in various stages of vacation. A weekly vase of flowers was prominent on the credenza behind his desk. Definitely the work of Mrs. Banks.
I sat down, gazing over his shoulder at the current arrangement of calla lilies and birds of paradise flowers—an anomaly to the type of person he was—wondering why he would want to speak to me so early. I’d been working with Andrew Grant for a few months. He’d been keeping me busy, learning the ins and outs of working for a public relations firm. I’d sat in on a few meetings with him, soaking in all the knowledge of how the industry worked. Knowing Andrew had been giving Tad updates, I thought maybe this was the reason for this impromptu meeting.
Working in public relations was the dream job I’d wanted since I could speak. College groomed me for this job, and all I’d ever thought of was being a public relations guru for the likes of Brad Pitt—sans Angelina—or even the yummy, and scrumptious Henry Cavill. Hell, I’d even take on Jennifer Lawrence. This! This was my life.
Tad sat down at his desk and rifled through the drawers. Moving piles of paperwork from the top of his desk, he looked up at me and gave a slight shrug. He came precariously close to knocking his coffee cup over several times. I sat on the edge of my seat, waiting to stop a catastrophe, my nerves hopping along with his unruly hand.
“I hope you had a nice weekend,” I said, trying to lighten the moment.
He grunted at me as he continued looking around his messy desk.
As I stared at the hazardously placed coffee cup, I thought I heard him say “voilà” under his breath. Holding up a thick file, he leaned over his desk to hand it to me. Most people these days were using tablets or laptops. He was still working in the twentieth century.
He nodded to the file. “Andrew’s been giving me some great feedback on your work, so I thought it was time to give you a client of your own.” A bright smile lit his face, then shifted to something more serious which reflected in his voice as he propped his elbows on the desk. “It’s basic publicity with a bit of management involved. He’s an out-of-control rock star, and the label, our clients,” he pointed to the both of us, “want to get him back on the straight and narrow, or they’ll negate his contract.”
Somehow, this didn’t seem very basic to me at all. “My first client…” I looked down at the folder in a happy daze. It was just a plain manila folder with some scribbling on it, but inside it would be the first step into the career of my dreams. This was my ‘make it or break it’.
Tad nodded as I placed the folder in my lap, now dying to finish up this meeting. My fingers tapped anxiously against the paper’s surface. I was ready to throw myself into figuring out how to deal with the client. What type of management and publicity would he need? Would he be the typical spoiled rock star, women hanging off of each arm? Would he treat me like the person who wanted to help him? So many questions…
Then it hit me—this was going to be my first real client. Without the help of anyone else. And he was a rock star. I was excited. And I was terrified.
“So why me?” I asked, my voice croaking due to lack of caffeine.
“Charlotte, you’ve proven yourself to everyone here.” His eyes softened a bit, a smile threatening on his lips. “You’re ready to be out there on your own, and I know fully well that you’ll be successful at it. I have faith in your ability. You’ve been groomed for this since your internship. This is the job you’ve been training for.”
I nodded, still in my daze. “I’m definitely ready to work on my own, and I’m really excited—nervous—but excited.”
“You’re more than capable of handling this client. In fact, it should be fairly easy for you, I think.”
His tone was ominous; I just stared at him. “So this case isn’t in Phoenix?” My voice wavered as I rubbed my sweaty palms against my skirt. A part of me wondered if I could deal with a big-time rock star. I was attractive, about five-seven, and lucky to get my thick, natural blonde hair from mom. My eyes—a greenish-grey—were all my dad.
“Nooo.” He shook his head. “You’ll be heading to L.A. once you’re up to speed. Everything you need to know is in that file.” He indicated the plain manila folder that was starting to make me sweat. “We’ll set you up with a hotel and credit card, the usual stuff that comes with traveling.”
“I’m heading to L.A.?” I asked.
He gave me a beatific smile. “Just read it over and come in with any questions.” He got up from his seat, brushing a hand down his pant leg. Stepping toward the door, he stopped behind my chair. “I know you’ll do well, Charlotte. I have faith you’ll do this company proud.” He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.
A small smile played on my lips. Getting any type of compliment from Tad Banks was indeed high praise. I held the file against my chest as a way of slightly protecting myself, and I nodded once. “I understand, sir.” I stood up, knowing the meeting was ending.
I had just made it to the door when he gently turned me to face him, a tender glint to his eye as he held my chin in his hand. “You’re the best girl—” He cleared his
throat. “—woman, for the job.”
I smiled proudly and looked straight into his eyes, trying to steal a bit of his confidence, something he’d taught me to do long ago, and I pressed the plain manila folder tighter to me. Then I did something I never do. I let my professional wall fall away and said, “I know, Daddy.”
Once I left my father’s office, I rushed back to mine to look over the client information. Coffee was long forgotten, unfortunately. But after I made my way through the file, I sat at my desk in a shock. The back of my skull was pressed into the headrest of my chair, and my eyes were closed as I willed away a developing panic attack. I was so tempted to march right back into my father’s office and demand to be taken off the case. There was no way in hell he was giving me this job.
For some reason, I just knew Mom had something to do with this. I loved my mom to death, and I knew she was excited that I was working for Dad’s company, but to be involved in picking my first client? I just wanted to shake my damn head. I placed my head into my hands after I stared with bleary eyes at the name.
Joey Carino.
Fingers at my temples, I tried to rub the stress from the headache that was fast approaching migraine status. When I first opened the folder and saw his name, my heart sped up to tachycardia speeds. Out of the thousands of stars in the world, this was the one I got.
He’s got to be fucking joking.
Tossing the file on my desk, I finally wandered into the kitchen to grab that elusive cup-o-joe I so desperately needed. If we’d had Bailey’s or Jameson in the building, I would’ve spiked the coffee to calm my jittery nerves. Leaning up against the counter, I stirred cream into my cup, lost in my own world when Andrew Grant came in. He had been my dad’s right-hand man since the company started in the eighties, and was a big cheerleader in my corner. They’d gone to university together, and he’d been a fixture at Casa Banks for as long as I’d been alive.
He was divorced with no kids, currently playing the field. Most women loved him, more for his British accent than for the great person he was. To me, he’d always be Uncle Andrew. He mentored me during college breaks, and when I interned during the summers. He also had me sit in client meetings with him, which, for interns, was highly unusual. To some it might seem like special treatment, but he made me work my ass off for his respect. In turn, he was a great teacher, and I’d always respected him.
“You shouldn’t hog the coffee machine, you know.”
Glancing around, I realized I was standing right in front of the machine, still lost in my thoughts. I slid to my left but remained deep in thought while Andrew prepared his coffee.
“Dad called me into his office this morning,” I said, staring at the back of Andrew’s pinstriped suit. He was slightly peppered with gray at the temples, but it looked good on him, distinguished. He was extremely attractive for an older guy.
Andrew nodded his back still to me. Finished making his coffee, he turned around, his eyes flickering to the lip I was chewing. With an aggravated sigh and an arched brow, he asked, “Are you going to spit it out, or do I have to guess?”
I smiled at his accent. It was always so much more British early in the morning. “He gave me my first client today,” I mumbled, my gaze dropping to my coffee.
He clucked his tongue after taking a long sip of his coffee; his eyes softening like my dad’s did earlier. “Getting your first client is equally exciting and terrifying. You’ve done well with the clients while working with me. What’s making you so nervous?”
I took a sip of my coffee, trying hard not to burn my tongue on the hot liquid. Thankfully, that first sip seemed to calm the nerves, if just for a second. “It’s not so much the what, as it’s more the who.” I was being deceptively vague, but I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure if I could or would take this client. Can I deal with seeing him again?
Placing his coffee cup on the counter, he led me over to the table, pressing me into a chair as he placed a warm, gentle hand on my shoulder. It was a familial touch, and I appreciated it. His eyes were zoned in on me. “Didn’t you just say the other day that you were tired of being the errand girl around here? You know the biz. We have to get our hands dirty sometimes, and we can’t always be choosy.”
Of course, I knew all this. My dad had been running this company since before I was born. It was his passion. He didn’t take on many clients anymore, but he had a team that he respected with proven track records. But for some reason, I felt like I was being tested because I was his daughter. I was the new kid on the block.
I fiddled with the rim of my coffee cup, and he asked, “Who’s the client?”
“Joey Carino.” I gave him a worried look, and then jumped out of the chair, straightening my blue suit jacket and pacing back and forth.
Andrew’s brows shot up into his hairline as he choked on his coffee. Regaining his composure, he blinked a couple times. “Holy shit,” he said, wiping the coffee from his chin.
I frowned at him, my eyes blazing. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Charlotte,” he started sounding defensive. “Joey could be a difficult client at best, and with the hist…” His words trailed off. He gave me a kindly stare, but I knew exactly where he was going with it.
“I know what you’re thinking.” I nodded with the confidence I didn’t have. “Yes, Joey’s career is hot. But according to the file, he’s kinda all over the place.” It was kind of a lie. I really wasn’t sure what Andrew was thinking, but I wanted to prod him a little make him finish what he was saying. It wasn’t typical of him to clam up when I needed advice. He would never go against my father, but he also respected the hell out of me.
“So why does your father want you, specifically, to take this job?” He rubbed his chin in thought.
“That’s a good question and I haven’t been able to figure out yet. Joey’s been on a bit of a destructive streak.” I plopped back into the chair again and ticked off the facts. “His record label is threatening to cancel his ass, and he’s got a huge concert coming up at the Hollywood Bowl. It seems his drug use is becoming an issue. He’s been missing some publicity events set up by the label. From what I read, it looks like he’s embraced the typical rock-n-roll lifestyle. And all I can come up with is that Dad thinks I’m the one to help him.” Blowing my hair out of my eyes, I shook my head in misery.
Andrew whistled through his lips. “This could be a tough one.” He stood up and walked over to me. I knew Andrew would understand the conflict I was feeling. “Are you sure you’re the right person to handle this?”
“I don’t know,” I said, confused. “A part of me feels like I should at least take a chance, and then the other half tells me to run screaming in the opposite direction.” I smirked at him.
Andrew picked up his coffee cup as he headed to the door. “Your father had a reason for giving you Joey. It’s up to you to see if you’re ready to deal with it. This type of client needs a firm hand, but a kind heart.” He smiled at me, tender in his wisdom.
“Dealing with Joey doesn’t really scare me,” I admitted, then grimaced. “It’s Matthew. Matthew scares me.”
Matthew was Joey’s best friend and manager. The three of us had gone to the same Phoenix school system for years and I was never considered a favorite person to Matthew. He could be brutal when it came to Joey. Something I’d seen firsthand. Matthew didn’t like me. In fact, he never liked me much, as he told me daily.
Andrew laughed. “Oh, chicky, he’ll be a piece of cake. It’s the kid gloves with Joey that might give you problems.”
“I suppose.” I sighed. Andrew’s talk was making me feel better, but I was still feeling blindsided.
“You’ll do fine, and you can come to me any time you need help,” he said happily. “I promise you, we won’t allow you to be eaten by the sharks.”
A sudden giggle escaped from my lips. Andrew was always finding humor in my distress.
“Sure,” I said while I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for th
e chat.”
He winked. “Not a problem.” He tilted his head as I ran my finger around the rim of my coffee again. “You’ll be fine, I know it.”
Then he headed out, leaving me to my thoughts and wandering emotions. Damn this day
With Andrew’s promise and solid wisdom, I went back to my office with a sense of renewed purpose. Daddy was giving me this case for a reason. And being the professional I was, I would do everything in my power to make sure this company looked good and that I was someone he could trust. I just needed to trust that he had my best interest in mind and wasn’t throwing this case at me willy-nilly. This would be my chance to prove myself.
I sat straighter in my chair, forced myself to feel stronger and ready to tackle this case head on. To make my dad proud.
Over the next hour, I read through the file a few times to see exactly what Joey had been up to since I last saw him. He’d been highly successful since he broke into the market a few years back, selling out concerts worldwide, and record stores couldn’t keep his stuff stocked. Several times in a row, he’d been named one of People magazine’s most beautiful. And beautiful he was.
He was thickly built, but in a muscular way. He kept his head shaved close to the scalp, which highlighted his carved cheeks and strong jawline. However, it was the pale green eyes with the pinprick pupils that looked like he could see through you. I could never forget those eyes. When he was looking at you, you felt it in your soul. Just thinking of him made my heart race. Which was definitely not what I needed right now. Conflicted feelings aside, this was a job.
It appeared Joey had been suffering the typical downfall of fame. Too much drinking in public and getting fall-down drunk. According to the tabloids—which I always took with a grain of salt—his drug use was becoming a problem. However, the label hadn’t exactly come out and said that drugs were an issue, and rumor rags were sketchy at best. I could only hope he wasn’t doing cocaine, heroin, or pills. Trying to keep that out of the news would be tricky.
