28. Tatum
28
TATUM
Boss
A client requested your services tonight. Be at 1224 Banks Drive at 8 pm. They’re sending an outfit so you can dress accordingly. The client wants you to blend in and clean up any messes made by the other guests. There should be approximately 200. Remember to spot check. Make sure no one vomits. Pick up dishes missed by the caterer. That kind of thing. Don’t be late.
M y blood boils as I reread the message again.
I still haven’t responded. I should. But I can’t convince myself to cave and play Paxton’s game. Not when I already put my foot down and said I couldn’t attend.
“Hey, you good?” Rory asks from her side of the room. She’s been holed up all day, her laptop and books scattered around her, and her hair piled on top of her head. Or at least, it’s how she looked ten minutes ago. I’m too busy staring at the stupid message to acknowledge her.
I glare at the message again.
They’re sending an outfit so you can dress accordingly.
I’m gonna kill him.
“Tate?” Rory prods. “You good?”
“Could be better,” I grumble.
“What’s wrong?”
“I have to work tonight.” The screen goes black, and I tap the edge of my cell against my chin, considering my options. “Or maybe I don’t. Depends on if I feel like getting fired or not.”
Plopping down next to me on the couch, Rory says, “Uh, you most definitely do not want to get fired.”
“You sure?”
“Yup. Especially because you promised me you’d give this job a real shot, remember?”
Boy, do I. It’s the only reason I haven’t told my boss to take the “client’s” offer and shove it up his ass.
“That was before Pax decided to piss me off,” I mutter.
“What does this have to do with Pax?”
I drop my phone in my lap and fold my arms. “He may or may not be one of my clients.”
Her jaw drops. “Are you serious?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay, catch me up. What’s going on?”
Where to start?
Puffing out my cheeks, I say, “Okay, so…Pax is the music guy. The one with the music room.”
“You mean, the house you said you’re moving into before getting caught sleeping in said music room?”
“That’s the one,” I confirm with a mock thumbs up.
Her eyes bulge, making her look like she just saw a cockamouse—a half-mouse, half-cockroach—scurry across my comforter. “You’re joking.”
My mouth bunches on one side as I shake my head slowly. “Not joking.”
“So, what does that have to do with you working tonight?”
“A few nights ago, Pax asked me to go to a party at his place, but I turned him down. Apparently, he found a loophole and reached out to my boss, requesting my presence so I can make sure the house stays relatively clean while it’s filled with hundreds of guests for the night. Because that doesn’t sound like a bullshit excuse at all.”
Biting the inside of her cheek to keep her amusement in check, she muses, “Sneaky.”
“Something like that.” I face her fully. “And don’t sound so impressed.”
“What? Is there something wrong with being impressed with a guy who might just be your perfect match?”
“Why? Because he’s manipulative and can’t take no for an answer?”
She grins. “Exactly.”
Reaching for her hand, I beg, “Come with me.” My grip tightens with a needy squeeze. “Please?”
“You want me to come to the party?”
“If you don’t want me to get fired for bailing or potentially stabbing the client, then yes. And it isn’t a want. It’s a need. Please?”
“Seriously?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” I toss back at her. “You can clean, or cling to my arm, or…whatever you want. I’ll even give you half the money I make from the job.”
Taking in the look of desperation painted on my face, she caves almost instantly. “Fiiiine, but you don’t need to pay me.”
“If you’re cleaning, I’m paying.”
“I think we both know cleaning isn’t exactly a chore for me,” she points out.
She’s not wrong.
“Still paying you,” I argue.
“Fiiiine,” she repeats. “But only because we both know you’re more stubborn than me, and I’ll love the front-row seat to see how this is going to turn out.”
“Gee, thanks.”
With a grin, she says, “You’re welcome.”
Satisfied, I slump back into the pillows on my bed, reach for the remote, and resume the show, typing a response to my boss.
Me
I’ll be there.
Boss
Thank you!
My phone vibrates again. My sister’s name flashes across the screen.
Not today, Satan.
I silence the call, and set it face down.
Not today.