Chapter 6 #2
Rhys’s mouth presses into a hard line. It stays there as he stops long enough to dig some money out of his pocket and drop it in the hat of a homeless man playing saxophone.
The twenty-dollar bill lands on top of a handful of coins and dollar bills.
The man stops playing long enough to nod and say, “Thanks, Mr. James.”
“Cheers, Rod.” Rhys’s lips soften into something like a smile for the saxophone player. A distant cousin of a smile, but still a wisp of something that disappears as quickly as it appeared.
When we’re far enough to talk without yelling over the saxophone, Rhys grumbles, “Keep it to my mates.”
I stop and turn to him, tired of his clipped answers and storm-ridden face. “Do you want me to help you or not?”
He meets my gaze with an immovable one of his own. “I’ll have the party, but keep it small. Just my mates…this time.”
I’m tempted to keep fighting him, if only because I get an adrenaline rush when I see his eyes flicker a darker blue in anger. But I get the sense I’ve pushed him far enough for today.
“Fine. Pick a date and let me know.” I offer him a smile that he returns with a huff, but as we move again, I catch a grin sneaking across his face. “Then we should set up a regular schedule for me to come over and get some pictures and videos of you just…being you.”
When he doesn’t answer, I steal a glance at him. Rhys licks his lips, and I remember how much I used to want to kiss those lips for real. I can’t help noticing they look so much softer than poster paper pinned to a textured wall.
“I think it’ll be easier if you move in.
” His eyes dart to me, and in the dim light of the setting sun, I see his cheeks flush.
“I didn’t mean to sound like I want you out of my way.
I mean you’d have your own space. In the pool house.
Privacy. I’ll fix it up however you want.
Right now, it’s got a lot of my mum and dad’s stuff, but I can move that to a storage unit. ”
My mouth drops. Does Rhys James actually want me to live with him? I mean, not with him, but in the same vicinity. Closer than that. On the same property.
I should want this, right? From a practical point of view, I should be jumping at the chance. I already said I’d move out of Georgia and Zach’s. I need a place to stay. And it would only be for a few months.
“How much would you charge me for rent?” I ask. The last thing I want is to put off any freeloader vibes.
Rhys whips his head to mine and lifts his lips, like I’ve said the craziest thing he’s ever heard. “Nothing. I don’t need your money.”
I cross my arms. “I’m not staying there for free.”
Rhys stares at me, rolling his eyes. “You’re not paying me. Danny said you have to live there until Winter Lights Live. If you want to stay beyond that, we’ll figure out how much rent you should pay.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the fact is, I don’t have the time or the desire to go apartment hunting for something within my budget, which, until I get my first paycheck from VibeHouse, is around zero.
So…I don’t think I can say no.
Even more troubling, I don’t think I want to.
“Okay, but you really don’t have to go to any trouble fixing it up, Rhys.
” I let my eyes fall from his to the sleeve of tattoos covering his right arm.
He had only a few on his upper arm in the last poster I had of him.
But that was years ago. I wish I had more light—and more time—to study the ones he has now.
He doesn’t smile, but there’s an unmistakable brightness in his eyes. “It won’t be any trouble. I’ll have my PA handle the details. Just tell her what you want.” He takes my elbow again, sending the same buzz of electricity down my arm. “Let’s keep walking.”
I point to the beat-up SUV parked behind him. “This is me. I guess…send me your PA’s contact info, then.”
Rhys takes out his phone and taps a few buttons. “It’s my mum.”
My phone pings with a text I assume is from him. “Your mom’s your PA?”
He shrugs. “Who knows what I need better than my mum?”
I nod, recalling again everything I’ve read about Rhys James. “Isn’t she kind of… retirement age?”
I don’t know how to say it more politely. Camellia was in her forties when she had him, which would make her in her seventies now. Most PAs are in their twenties or thirties. My age. People young and hungry. Not ready to retire.
The corner of Rhys’s mouth tugs. “She’s still spry. I reckon she’d quit if she wanted to.”
“Okay. Does she text?”
Rhys scoffs. “She’s old, but she’s not dead. She texts.”
That makes me smile—Rhys making a joke. That’s a relief. “Okay. So, should I plan the pool party barbecue thing with her?”
“Nah, I’ll handle that.”
“Great. I don’t think it’ll take much planning, you know, just like burgers, drinks, maybe some salad and veggies.”
Rhys goes still. “Speaking of burgers—wasn’t expecting to be the heifer in your analogy back there with Danny.” He waves his head in the general direction of VibeHouse.
I blink, then burst into laughter. “I’d almost forgotten about that.
” Rhys’s pinched face tells me he hasn’t, and I pull back my smile.
“I use examples like that for leverage. People like Danny—who think they know it all—need to be reminded they don’t.
So I brought up a subject I figured he’d know nothing about and leveled the playing field. ”
Rhys doesn’t look convinced I’ve done him a huge favor.
I step around him to unlock my car while explaining my strategy.
“A big exec like Danny knows nothing about living in a small town. He thinks he’s entitled to the most expensive steak for dinner because he’s rich.
He has no idea what goes into making that steak taste as good as he wants it,” I say gently.
But the fact is, Rhys is a bit clueless too when it comes to what Danny’s doing to him. He looks at me with his hands on his hips, suspicion and accusation written all over his face.
“You would have preferred to be the bull, right?” I let go of my door handle and face him again.
“That oughta be obvious,” he says dryly.
I hit a deeper nerve than I realized.
I let out a breath. “The thing is, Rhys, you’re the one getting screwed by Danny—and he knows it. That analogy was about making him feel like he’s in charge, while also opening his eyes to your value, because he’s taking you for granted.”
I worry I’ve been too direct after already bruising Rhys’s ego once today. Slowly, the corners of his eyes crinkle, but he doesn’t look mad about what I’ve said.
“Heifers do the work. They’re the ‘talent’ Rhys, the most important component. Everything starts with her.”
Rhys raises his eyebrows and looks almost tension-less. His square jaw unclenches, and I see the piece of the Rhys I know loves performing. No one can act that well. I just don’t think he loves what he has to do on stage anymore.
I step closer and grab his upper arm, needing him to understand my point. “You should want to be the heifer. You should know your worth, Rhys.” An idea hits me, and I squeeze his arm harder. “In fact, that should be your mantra!”
“Be the heifer?” An angry crease appears between his brows.
I laugh. “Know your worth. That’s your mantra.”
His face softens.
“Say it,” I demand.
“Here?”
I purse my lips and cross my arms.
Rhys glares before muttering, “Know your worth,” through clenched teeth.
I grin. “See! That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Rhys shakes his head once, trying not to grin himself.
I drop my hand from his upper arm to his wrist. “That’s what I was trying to get Danny to see, and I think he did, even if he doesn’t know it yet. But you have to see it first if you want him to.”
He studies me with a look so intense, it makes me very, very nervous, and I can’t quit talking.
“At the very least, I got you a small get-together with friends and time alone to write the song you need instead of being forced to go out to parties, socializing…doing all the stuff you don’t want to do right now. ”
Rhys’s mouth pulls into a smile. His blue eyes have that sparkle I’ve seen in so many of his videos when he’s on stage or when he’s talking about music.
“Thanks, Stella.” He slides his wrist from my light hold until he has the tips of my fingers in his.
The thought occurs to me we’re standing close enough I could not only make my fantasies of kissing Rhys come true but could also cross off the second item on my 30 Before 30 List: kiss a rock star.
“Just doing my job, Rhys.” I slide my hand from his and reach for my car handle.
Rhys beats me to it and opens the door for me.
“Thanks.” I climb into the driver’s seat, then meet Rhys’s gaze. “Do you still love music, Rhys?”
His brows rise in surprise. “Yeah. ‘Course I do. Music’s never been the problem.”
“Just the music you don’t want to play anymore?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I’d say that’s a me problem, not a music problem. I’ve gotta get my head back in the game.”
Rhys’s eyes flick away from mine. I don’t think he even believes what he’s said, but he’s trying to convince himself he should.
“I disagree.” With the door still open, I start my car. “Know your worth, Rhys. Say it ten times every morning.”
He huffs. “You turning life coach on me now, Stella?”
“Ten times,” I repeat before shutting my door and pulling into the street.
Rhys thinks he’s looking for a way back to who he was. I think what he’s actually searching for is a purpose that’s his own, not one manufactured by Danny and VibeHouse.
And if I can capture the story of him finding himself, fans will fall in love with him all over again.
Just not this fan.