Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO_
JAMIE
Panic claws at my chest. I’ve never had to be paranoid before, but because I’ve been Harley Valentine’s personal assistant for over five years now, I’ve somehow become recognizable to people. Fans of Harley’s—biggest pop star on the planet.
“Did you follow me here?” I ask.
The woman laughs, and it lights up her entire face.
Honestly, she’s so fucking beautiful, I don’t know whether I want to be her or …
I shake that thought free before I can finish it.
Just like I always do when I find a woman attractive.
It’s an envy thing, not an attraction thing.
At least, that’s what my high school bestie told me when we’d kissed.
It was for a dare, and when I’d realized I wanted to actually kiss her, I stupidly told her so. “Just because we kissed, you don’t have to go waving rainbow flags everywhere.”
She was right, of course. Kissing someone of the same gender doesn’t make you gay or automatically queer. Wanting to do it again, however … Well, I don’t let myself think about that.
I’m brought back to the present by the raspy voice of the woman sitting in front of me.
“You realize you’re the one who sat at my table?”
She is right. She does look familiar, but after being targeted by one of Harley’s stalkers, that doesn’t mean anything. She might look familiar because she has been following me, and I’ve seen her in passing.
“That could be a coincidence. It was the only available space,” I argue, even though I saw her friend or girlfriend, whoever she was, leave.
Her lips twitch again. Apparently, I’m amusing to her. “Technically, it wasn’t an available space at all. You were trying to kick me off my table.”
She has this whole Michelle Rodríguez vibe, and maybe that’s why I think she looks familiar. She looks like an actress.
My mouth opens to defend myself. I really did think she was leaving. But that only brings up the fact that she’s right. I was the one who sat down here. Not her.
“I’m Angel,” she says.
“Jamie.” Oh. Right. She knows that already.
“As in Mike Bravo Angel. I worked for Harley during that stalker case a while back.”
Relief and embarrassment flood through me.
I remember her now. I didn’t have much to do with her when she worked with Harley, but I know I met her once or twice.
“I’m so sorry. I thought—” I shake my head.
“Don’t mind me. Ever since that guy stalked me to get to Harley, I’m paranoid of everyone.
It doesn’t help that I have the biggest scatterbrain to ever scatter at the moment. ”
“Is that why you’re in a gay bar with your laptop?”
“Yes. And no. I need to work, but my boyfriend was being a dick, so I had to get out of his apartment. I’m not really familiar with this area because we just moved to this neighborhood, so I walked into the first open place I saw.”
“When you say he was a dick …”
It takes a second for me to work out what she’s hinting at. “Oh! No, he didn’t hurt me or anything. He’s sick of how much I’m working lately, but he doesn’t understand. Harley Valentine … I love him to death. Love working for him. But he’s …”
Angel smiles again. “I remember him being pretty neurotic.”
“Neurotic. Yes. Perfect word to describe him. He decided, along with his dipshit four sidekicks, to do an impromptu US tour, so I am up to my ears in schedules and hotel bookings and riders.”
“Eleven are doing a reunion tour? That’s amazing.”
I frown at her.
“Uh, for Harley and the others in the band. Not for you. Obviously.”
I shouldn’t be so hard on them. I do really love my job. “I’m actually loving the work. My brain thrives on chaos. Probably because it’s so chaotic up in here.” I tap the side of my head. “But it’s a lot. And—”
“And your boyfriend doesn’t approve.”
“It’s not that he doesn’t approve. It’s just that …
he doesn’t like that we don’t get to spend much time together.
Which is fair. But also, why does he need me to be there all.
the. time? This is my dream job. Or it’s at least a stepping stone to my dream job.
Harley has opened so many doors and opportunities for me in the entertainment industry, and if I can pull off this last-minute tour for the most popular boy band on the planet, I could do this for real.
Like, be a tour coordinator or producer.
Band manager. I don’t know, something bigger. ”
“Sounds like the boyfie has some issues with his woman being more successful than he is.”
I don’t want to believe that, but ever since getting more responsibility and this opportunity to prove myself, Raffy’s been asking why I wasn’t happy to continue to be “just Harley’s PA.”
“I wish I could say it was a man thing,” Angel says, “but the woman you saw leaving? She’s basically looking for a housewife, and she was under the assumption I make less than her.”
“So my plan to break up with Raffy and become a lesbian is a bad idea?”
“Oh, so you think sexuality is a choice?”
I just about swallow my tongue. “No. Shit. Bad joke. I—”
Angel still finds me amusing. “I’m messing with you. But if you’re seriously thinking about dipping your toes in the lesbian pond, there’ll still be women who are the same.”
“Why is it so difficult to find someone who just supports their partner? You’d think that would be base-level stuff.”
“If your boyfriend doesn’t support your career or what you want, I’d be reassessing that relationship if I were you.”
I can’t help thinking she’s right. A partner should always encourage the other, support them, and yes, it sucks that we can’t spend much time together right now, but I’ll still be there for him when it’s all said and done.
It’s not like I plan to run off with someone else on tour.
I’ll be too busy to even think about sex, let alone go out and find someone.
But can I say the same about him? What will he do while I’m away if he’s this mad at me and feeling lonely?
“Sorry if that depresses you. Do you want me to buy you a drink? You look like you need one.”
I shake my head. “No. Thank you, though. I really do need to get this work done.”
Angel glances around. “I don’t think this is the place to achieve that. My house is only a few blocks away if you want to escape there until you get your work done. I’ve only had one drink too, so I can drive you back to your place afterward if you need it.”
“That would be amazing, but I don’t want to impose.”
Angel slides off her stool, and my gaze catches on her long legs in her tiny skirt. She’s so fucking hot that I hate her a little bit. See? It’s envy. Not attraction.
“It’ll probably be good for me,” she says. “I want the company without the strings of expectations.”
“Expectations?” I squeak.
“Yeah. Like there’s zero chance of the straight girl with a boyfriend and I hooking up, so that means there’ll be no wires crossed.”
She’s right that there’s no chance of us hooking up because I won’t cheat on my boyfriend, but I don’t think she’s right when she says there’ll be no crossed wires. My wires are all over the place.
Especially when she smiles at me.
I’m so awkward as I sit on Angel’s plush couch. I swear I’m fit, but her place is on a hill, and I’m sweating and panting like crazy. Her place is a nice town house, like really nice, but from what I know of Mike Bravo, they pay well.
Her home is … weirdly feminine, with fresh flowers on her coffee table, a hanging plant out on the terrace, and potted plants in nearly every corner.
I might be guilty of stereotyping her as a masc lesbian, even though she has long, silky hair, is wearing a skirt, and …
okay, so it’s not so much her appearance that gives off that vibe, but I guess it’s in the way she commands attention and owns a room.
I’m thankful I ran into her. I don’t want to go back and face Raffy yet, plus, I can’t even move until I catch my breath, so there’s that.
Most of all, Angel has a way about her. She has this draw that I can’t shake off.
Maybe there was another seat to take at that bar, but she lured me in by … breathing.
“You okay?” she asks, holding out a glass of water for me.
I realize I’m staring and quickly glance away. “Uh, yeah. Just out of breath. I don’t get to the gym as much as I should.” Though I’m not sure that’s the reason I can’t breathe right now.
I take the water and gulp it down.
“I’m sure running after that diva boy band every day is enough cardio.”
Water gets stuck in my throat as I go to laugh, and I end up choking on it. I manage to get my hand to my mouth and nose before it sprays everywhere.
Angel probably thinks I’m a huge dork, but if she does, she doesn’t say it.
She does smother a laugh, though. “Do you mind if I go change into my pajamas?” She plays with the waistband of her skirt that digs into her skin.
She’s a short woman, but I wouldn’t call her petite.
Her muscles have muscles. Though she doesn’t have a bodybuilder physique either.
Her muscles look toned and defined without being veiny.
Yeah, I should tell her to cover up. I won’t get any work done if I’m too busy looking at her muscles.
“Go for it. I’m the one imposing on your space here. You should be comfortable.”
When she disappears from the room, I finally avert my gaze and open my laptop to get back to work. That’s the reason I’m here. To work. Not to stare at the pretty woman and be an awkward little duck.
Only, when she comes back out, I can’t help but stare. My fingers stop flying across the keyboard.
She’s in tiny silk shorts and a matching tank top.
She has a mandala tattoo up her thigh, and it disappears into the shorts.
In between her cleavage, where she’s so not wearing a bra, I see the tiniest bit of ink and can’t help wondering if it’s two different tattoos or if they link up somewhere under her clothes.
She’s also put her silky black hair, which almost shines deep blue, in a quick braid.
Had she had her hair like that at the bar, I would’ve immediately recognized her.
She throws herself on the couch, and I’m saved from my trance by my phone pinging.
This goes so far past admiration for her physique, and I probably can’t ignore those maybe I’m not so straight thoughts anymore. Not that I need to analyze it now, having Raffy and all. Even if the thoughts of breaking up with him have been more frequent lately.
“You going to get that?” Angel asks. “Or are you ignoring it to get work done? Do you mind if I watch TV, or I can do that in my bedroom if you need silence.”
All her words are a blur, but then my phone pings again. Right. Message. Phone.
I pick it up, and with only seeing the notification preview, the urge to throw my phone against the wall is so strong I would probably do it if I were anywhere else. I don’t want to break Angel’s things with my brick of a phone.
Angel sits up and leans forward. “That doesn’t look like good news.” She rests her forearms on her knees, and instead of telling her, I show her. I unlock my screen with my face and then hand it over to her to read.
I’ve been with Raffy since … shit. It’s been like five years now.
I should be thinking about marriage with him.
Children. Hell, it’s taken this long for us to finally move in together.
That should be a red flag, right? Five years and not even living together?
And a month after moving in, it’s all falling apart, and he’s sending me the same recycled text he always sends when he doesn’t get his own way.
We may have been together for five years, but it has been a very off-and-on five years. And every single time he does it, he hooks up with someone else and then comes crawling back to me.
“What the fuck does this mean?” Angel asks. “It’s not working. I think we should take a break. I’m going out.”
I sigh. “It means we’re broken up again. He’ll go out, hook up, and then, like clockwork, he’ll come crawling back to me saying that she didn’t compare to me. He loves me. He’ll never doubt that again.”
Angel hands back my phone. “Until your next fight, am I right?”
“Pretty much.” It sounds so manipulative now I’ve said it out loud.
“I’m sorry to ask this, but does he have any redeeming qualities?” Angel asks.
“Of course he does. I wouldn’t be with him for five years if …” Well, shit. I trail off when I try to think of Raffy’s redeeming qualities. They were abundant in the beginning. Now …
“Holy shit,” I whisper. My fingers tap the screen in rapid succession.
“What is it?”
“I’ve realized something. I’m not happy in my relationship anymore.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Angel’s lips purse, but I’m too busy typing out a long response to acknowledge her judgment.
You’re right. We should take a break. An extended one.
Like, forever. I haven’t been happy for a long time, and all you do is try to manipulate me into giving up my job, my friends, my everything so I can be with you.
I can no longer put you first. I’m going to be my first and only priority from now on. We’re over. For good this time.
I hit Send and smile, feeling lighter than I have in years even if it does mean I now have to move out of the apartment I just moved into with him. With any luck, he’ll be the one to move out. I can afford the rent on my own. I’m not so sure he could. Eh, future Jamie’s problem to work out.
“What did you say?” Angel asks.
“Just that we’re over for good this time.”
“Are you, though?”
I fucking hate that the little voice in the back of my mind says “No” while my mouth says “Yes.”