It made me want to be around her.
I hadn’t felt that way about literally anyone in a really long time.
My phone vibrated with a text message, just as I was sitting down in her new chair to test it, make sure I’d put it together right. The leather was soft and it sank smoothly under my weight as I adjusted the height; it was the same as my chair.
I spun and rolled toward my desk to pick up my phone.
Xander: We’re almost done moving Taylor’s shit in. Come have a beer. It’s Saturday.
Me: In a bit.
Maybe half a minute later, someone put on Our Last Night’s cover of “The Middle.” Taylor, possibly, since I now knew they were one of her favorite bands—I may have texted her several days ago to demand she send me a list, as if it was a condition of her employment, when it wasn’t; I’d asked for her top ten, not just three, because I was obsessive like that.
It was definitely Xander who pushed the music through to my in-house sound system, though. Loud.
I’d never been able to figure out how he always bumped my connection when he paired his phone to my speakers. But I didn’t take the bait. I just let it play, closing myself into the studio control room and shutting off the speakers in there, and slipping on my headphones.
Then I got another text.
Taylor: This is kind of turning into a pool party. Xander said it was ok. If you want me to tell them to go, just let me know.
I smiled to myself a little.
Me: There’s booze in the poolhouse kitchen if you want anything. I’ll come out later.
Sometime mid-afternoon, I saw Ash’s truck leave on the security feed.
A short while later, I decided to head outside. Best to get it over with now, before anyone else showed up. I found Taylor, Xander and my sister drinking by the pool. They all turned to look when I stepped outside.
“Hey!” Xander swaggered over and greeted me with a hug. “When did you cut your hair?”
“Like a week ago.”
“Yourself?”
“Uh, this girl does house calls.”
If they found anything odd about that, I didn’t see it. Probably because I’d stopped looking for signs of those things years ago. My primary tactic for dealing with the people in my life, even the closest ones, was pretty much get in and get out as fast as possible.
“You look handsome!” my sister said. She looked drunk. She gave me a big, bright smile and hopped up to give me a kiss on the cheek.
Then she settled against Xander, who draped his tattooed arm around her shoulders. She was wearing a bikini, and I tried not to give him a dirty look, or any look. I supposed they were used to their togetherness by now. They sure seemed comfortable with it, even in front of me. They’d been together for almost a year, but for me, felt like it happened just last week. Maybe because I so rarely saw them.
That wasn’t their fault.
“Can I get you a drink?” Xander grinned at me. “It’s yours.”
I glanced at the booze they’d found in the poolhouse and piled onto the bar cart on the patio. But I wasn’t planning on sticking around long enough for a drink, so I just muttered something about needing to get back to work.
“You don’t want to swim? We’re just going back in,” my sister said.
“No, thanks.”
“But, look!” Courteney said. “We found my unicorn.” She pointed at the pool, where the inflatable unicorn floaty I’d bought for her years ago was floating. They must’ve dug it out of some closet in the poolhouse.
“Go on in,” I said. “You still fit in that thing?”
“Of course,” she said, handing Xander her cooler. He followed her to the pool, where she flopped onto the floaty. He handed her cooler back to her. She screamed when he grabbed the unicorn by the horn and jerked the floaty like he was going to flip her.
He didn’t.
She splashed him and called him a very nasty word, smiling the whole time. He laughed, flashing his teeth and taking a swig of his beer.
My sister was in love with my best friend. I still couldn’t quite digest that.
I’d just never known either of them to be in love before, maybe. And really, I couldn’t remember what it was like to be in love. Witnessing it in action felt foreign to me, like most human experiences based on emotion and connection with other humans.
“No rest for the wicked, huh?” Taylor said.
I looked over at her.
“You don’t take Saturdays off?” she asked me.
“Not usually.”
She was wearing a sort of see-through pink cover-up thing over a black bikini. I tried not to look too closely, pretending to watch Xander and my sister goofing around. But I couldn’t help noticing her toes, wiggling a little to the music. Some old school No Doubt was playing now, which could’ve been Xander’s pick or Courteney’s. Or Taylor’s, for all I knew. Maybe she sang Gwen in the shower, too.
She sipped her beer and grinned as she watched them. She looked comfortable here, and I liked it. Already, I liked having her here. Definitely improved the scenery.
I’d told myself many times this last week, since I made the decision to hire her, that I was doing this for my sister, and maybe for myself, in the healthiest way. That maybe I was finally listening to what Court and Xander had been trying to tell me for years. That maybe this would help me grow or something.
But the truth was I was taken with Taylor. I found her fascinating.
And I wanted to control our relationship as much as I could.
I knew that was sick.
I didn’t care.
I’d been sick for so long, maybe I was just used to it. And good mental health was overrated anyway. I probably wouldn’t be half as good as I was as a musician if I was wholly sane.
And anyway, none of this would hurt her. It wasn’t about her. It was just the way I needed it to be.
“Hey, I’ve gotta go,” I told Xander, when he strolled back over.
“Sure, brother.” He didn’t bother arguing or trying to convince me to stay. He knew that would just get awkward for all involved.
Plus, he probably didn’t want to draw attention to my freakishness in front of my new assistant.
Courteney gave me a wave from her floaty. “Thanks for coming out to say hi! Don’t work too hard, okay?”
“Never.”
She grinned, and Xander slapped me lightly on the shoulder. Then I turned to say goodbye to Taylor.
“Catch you later,” I said, kinda awkwardly. Xander was watching, and it made me self-conscious. I probably had about zero game left with women at this point, and Xander had always been a professional player.
“I’ll walk you in,” Taylor said quickly, and followed me as I bolted for the house.
“Have a good weekend,” I told her at the door. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“Yeah—about that,” she said, grabbing the door before I could close it behind myself. She glanced back at Xander and Courteney, who were goofing around in the pool. Then she slipped into the living room with me. I had to step back so we wouldn’t touch. “I just got an email from my bank,” she said. “An automatic alert.”
I said nothing.
“It said that there was a large deposit made into my checking account. I checked, and… it was as if, instead of a paycheck, six months’ worth of paychecks got deposited at once.”
“Right,” I said.
She searched my face like she was waiting for some explanation. “Was that a mistake?”
“It wasn’t a mistake. I had your pay deposited into your account. All of it. Just thought it was a good idea to pay you everything upfront. And I put in a little extra so the taxes don’t kill you.”
She stared at me, not looking happy at all. “Why?”
I went blank. I couldn’t even compute the question.
What was happening?
Why wasn’t she happy?
“So you never have to worry that you’re not getting paid if thin
gs don’t work out,” I said carefully. “Or if you don’t like being here.”
She just stared at me.
“You’re free to quit at any time, to move out, no questions asked.”
Well, that was bullshit. If she took off at some point, I’d definitely be asking her why. I’d probably want to know, in a masochistic sense, which freakish thing—or things—I did that drove her away.
“Are you okay with that?” I asked her.
Why didn’t she look okay with that?
“Well, next time, I’d feel more comfortable if you talked to me about this kind of thing before you do it.”
I studied her face, trying to read the vibe coming off her. All I knew was it wasn’t good. Tingles prickled up the back of my neck.
Was I blushing again?
“You’re upset,” I said.
“No. It’s okay.”
Bullshit.
My mind started racing as the anxiety crept up. My heart rate spiked and my fingers felt weirdly numb as blackness edged in around me.
Don’t. Lose. Your. Shit.
“Do you want to give the money back?”
“No,” she repeated. “It’s fine.”
“I wanted you to feel secure that you can quit if you need to. It’s in your contract. You can leave at any time, no notice needed.”
“I know. I read the contract.”
Shit. Did I just insult her? By implying she didn’t understand the contract?
Fuck. How did I fuck this up?
“Okay, then.” I started to back away, because I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to be standing so close to her when she wasn’t even fully dressed. And when I’d clearly overstepped some line in employer-employee relations that was not okay to cross. I could feel her unease. It was raising the hairs all over my body.
“Is this, like, Shut up money?” she blurted.
I stopped dead. “What?”
“You know, like if something happens that I don’t like, just shut up about it because you already paid me?”
“No.”
Fuck, no.
I could see how it felt that way to her, though. Jesus, I was shit with people.
Major fucking backfire, asshole.
“It’s not like that.” I dragged my hands through my hair, my face getting fucking hot. What the fuck was that about? I couldn’t remember blushing while speaking to a girl since maybe I was fourteen or something. “It’s more like I like you and respect you money. And if I do anything stupid, I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck here, or you have to stay because you didn’t get paid yet.”
“Oh.”
“I wanted you to feel secure,” I repeated.
“Oh.”
I pressed my hand to my thigh, as my fingers started tapping. “I’m not really good with people, Taylor. As you can fucking see.”
“Right.”
“I just…” I shoved my hands into my pockets to keep my fingers still, cramming them into fists.
You are not gonna melt down right here.
“I can see me fucking this up,” I forced out, “and I really don’t want you to have to suffer for it.”
Taylor’s expression softened a little. “Okay. I think I get it.”
I took a deep, slow breath. “Did I just offend you?”
“No. I’ll get used to it.”
“Used to what?”
“Your… ways.” She glanced at my hands in my pockets. “You’re different than other people. I realize that. And it’s not a bad thing.”
Yeah, right. It’s charming as hell.
“I really didn’t mean for it to come across that way. I wasn’t trying to buy you. I know you’re not for sale…” I stopped talking because I didn’t trust myself not to say something that would just make it worse.
“Okay. I get that.”
“I was pretty sure I was gonna fuck this up at some point, somehow. But I can’t believe I fucked up already.”
She considered that, then said, softly, “I think your heart was in the right place, Cary.”
I barely heard her.
The anxiety was rising up like a black tide. My limbs felt shaky, and I didn’t want her to see it.
Not this soon.
I started backing away. “Look, if you’re not here on Monday morning, I’ll understand. I know I’m a lot to deal with.”
Which is why nobody bothers trying to deal with you anymore.
“I’ll see you on Monday,” she said firmly.
“Okay.” I was practically out of the room.
“And, Cary?”
“Yeah.” I stopped just inside the archway to the foyer.
“You can let me know if you need me today. I’m just hanging out. Later, I’ll just be unpacking and getting settled in. If you need me today or tomorrow, I’m ready to work. You know, for all that money you already paid me.”
“Sure. Just enjoy your weekend. Have fun.”
I turned and fled into the studio, locking the soundproofed door behind me. I sat down in the control room and took a slow, belly-deep breath, the way one of my therapists had taught me.
In four. Hold four. Out four.
Why the fuck did I think I could do this? Masquerade as a fucking normal person?
Like she wasn’t gonna notice.
You’re different than other people.
Yeah. No shit.
I could put on a mask for a few minutes at a time, but when she spent the day with me, day after day, she was gonna see who I really was.
The thing I just couldn’t figure out was why I wanted that so badly.
Chapter Eight
Taylor
Be Yourself
Monday morning, I got ready for work in the poolhouse with an anticipatory buzz in my chest. Same way I might feel starting any new job, but this one felt like there was way more at stake.
I’d already been paid. A hell of a lot. And now maybe I was feeling this strange sense of performance pressure, like it was now on me to prove to my new boss that I was worth all the money and the perks he’d generously donated to my bank account and my general living conditions.
The poolhouse itself was amazing. There was a combined living room / kitchen area, the bedroom and bathroom, and it was beautifully furnished. The plush towels and bedding were way nicer than what I had at home.
It still struck me that the pay-in-advance thing was a little weird, but when I’d confronted him about it, he’d seemed so genuinely horrified that it might’ve offended me. And then he just let me go about my weekend, never asking a thing of me.
I didn’t want to take advantage, but he’d told me to treat the yard like it was my own, and just to let him know if I was having anyone over. He’d been so entirely generous and reasonable, I couldn’t find any fault with anything he’d done so far. Even the money thing.
Like I told him, I was pretty sure his heart was in the right place.
When I had Danica over for a drink by the pool again yesterday—just Danica—I told Cary first. By text. I hadn’t seen him since we spoke about my pay. He didn’t come out while Danica was here and say hi, but he seemed fine with it. All he said in response to my text was: Have fun.
As I packed my laptop into my bag, ready to head over to the house and find out how this job was going to roll, I managed to convince myself that everything would be fine. That I didn’t need to be nervous. There was no reason to think this arrangement was weird or too intimate. Cary’s sister had lived here. So did the assistant before. I’d taken the liberty of getting his contact from Courteney and calling him a few days ago; he said the job was fine, but Cary didn’t seem to warm to him and fired him within the week. He also said Cary gave him a generous two weeks’ notice pay even though, according to their contract, he didn’t have to.
I didn’t ask him if Cary direct-deposited any of his pay into his account upfront.
While he’d stayed in the poolhouse that week—it was a perk of the job Courteney had offered when hiring him�
��he said he never got inside the studio. He barely got inside the house.
I wondered how far I was gonna get, or if I’d be working out by the pool on my laptop, alone all day. It hadn’t occurred to me until yesterday, when I sat by the pool alone and heard not a peep out of Cary all day, that this job might actually get lonely, all perks aside.
On my way out of the poolhouse, I texted Cary that I was coming over, and I showed up for work at nine a.m. as agreed, at the French doors to the living room. He’d outlined nine-to-five work hours in my contract, with the possibility of working overtime, basically whenever he wanted me to. I wondered if he actually would.
He met me at the door, opening it for me.
“Good morning,” I said as I stepped into the room. “Nice day.”
He looked outside like he hadn’t noticed. “Yeah. Looks nice.” He shut the door behind me, and there was an awkward pause as I waited for him to say something else.
He wore gray jeans again and a gray T-shirt, which seemed to be his uniform. This time the shirt looked like it had once been black but had faded all the way to gray. And he wore the same worn-looking brown leather bracelet. He wore no other jewelry. He’d maybe finger-combed his hair, if that. He looked like he hadn’t properly shaved in days.
And he still could’ve strolled onto the set of a GQ photo shoot and no one would’ve kicked him out.
Was it fair for someone to be so naturally delicious?
“I brought my laptop and stuff. Not sure where you want me to set up…”
“Right. I’ll show you.” He started across the living room, but paused. “Did you sleep well? How is the poolhouse?”
“It’s adorable. And super comfortable. Can I just say I love your house? It’s really nice here.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He looked around like he was actually seeing the house for the first time in a long time. “Thanks.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“I bought it about six years ago. Just before my band went on tour.”
“Alive, right? Your last band.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t meet my eyes, still looking around the room like it belonged to someone else. “Pretty much spent every penny I’d made in my career to date on it. Luckily there was more money to come. I bought it cash, though, so no mortgage. And I guess it was a good purchase. It’s pretty much doubled in value since then.”
Lovely Madness: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players, Book 4) Page 12
