Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
“Oh-kay,” her cousin replied on the other end of the phone. “And are you going to tell me why I should cancel all my advance bookings, lose several hundreds of dollars in revenue, and close my shop on one of the busiest Fridays of my year?”
Vanessa continued pacing the foyer of The Link, where she was planning on meeting her would-be models for some much-needed rehearsal time.
“Because you’ll be doing an act of charity for a group of underprivileged girls and a very worthwhile organization, the director of which is a client at your salon. ”
A dramatic sigh was followed by the sound of gum chewing.
“Look, Ness, you know I totally support you in this. I think it’s a great way to give yourself a boost while learning about the benefits of volunteering.
” Gum snapped so loudly that Vanessa assumed Natalie had blown a bubble.
“But I’m not the one who needs to drag my reputation out of the gutter.
I do, however, need to pay my rent. So closing my salon to do pro-bono work isn’t top of my list.”
Vanessa sunk onto the wobbly plastic chair outside the career office, then, realizing she wasn’t in the most sanitary place, shot to her feet.
Giving everything she’d previously been touching a frantic once-over, she found it clean enough.
Still, she smoothed her hand over her hair and her backside, checking for anything sticky.
This event had to be a hit. There was zero room for error.
Having to hold it at The Link was bad enough.
She still couldn’t wrap her head around how they were supposed to transform this place into anything remotely resembling a fashion-show venue.
The only thing she knew for sure was that she’d spent all of last night hunting for decorations, trying to make it work on the dismal budget Chantal had given her.
At least planning the event had managed to distract her from doomscrolling.
The event at Silk had cast a tsunami of negative attention on her, and now her phone was a constant stream of notifications—hundreds of them, all day long.
Sure, some were sweet, supportive messages.
But too many of them were unnecessarily mean.
She told herself to ignore them, and was mostly successful.
Until she started dwelling on them again. Like she was now.
She honestly couldn’t wrap her head around it. What happened at the club wasn’t that bad. Embarrassing? Sure. Unfair to Jordan? Definitely. Certainly not the vibe her agent wanted her putting out there. But compared to the video incident…
She’d made mistakes, but kissing Jordan didn’t feel like one of them. Most people in the court of public opinion, however, seemed to think otherwise.
Demanding clearly wasn’t working. Time to change tactics.
“I need this, so I’m more than willing to pay you.
Please agree, Nat. This isn’t only my reputation.
It’s my career.” She chewed the inside of her lip as she fought the embarrassment that vulnerability brought on.
“The last call I had with my agent was another dead end.” That had been the night she went to the club.
“There are no offers anywhere, not for acting or modeling. Not even for so much as an infomercial.”
The front door swung open, and a group of teens strolled through, bouncing basketballs as they headed straight for the gym, oblivious to the annoyed scowl Vanessa shot at them as they passed.
Was there another basketball practice? She’d told Chantal she had to use the gym for her rehearsals. This was not part of the plan. A flutter stirred low in her belly, but she quickly chalked it up to irritation and not the idea of running into the brooding pain in the ass the kids called coach.
The way Jordan had looked in the gym the other day—tatted muscular arms, granite abs beneath a clinging athletic tank, those massive shoulders, even his scarred brow furrowed in indignation, and his—
Nope. She was not going there. She had no time for distractions, especially not the infuriatingly attractive kind.
Lowering her voice so passersby couldn’t hear, she continued trying to persuade Natalie. “I’m not staying in Portland forever. I want to get back to my life, my job, but I can’t do that if I don’t get any work. Please help me. Per la tua famiglia?”
A frustrated growl rumbled through the phone. “Not fair pulling out the Italian, cuz.”
The loaded pause that followed made Vanessa bite back her smile.
“Fine!” Natalie snapped. “You win. I’ll do the hair and makeup. For you. So you can get a real job and get the hell out of here so I don’t lose any more billable hours. And no, you’re not paying me. Family discount.”
Vanessa squealed. “I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.
This exposure will be fantastic. You’ll see.
Business will boom.” She broke into a quick, hip-swaying happy dance.
“You’re the best cousin of them all. I love you.
” She blew kissy noises over Natalie’s groans to shut up, but the eventual laughter told her she was already forgiven.
After the call ended, she checked her DMs. No follow up from that random person after her flowers post, so she shrugged it off as another weirdo playing games. Wouldn’t be the first or last time.
Sliding her phone inside her purse, she grabbed her shopping bags and headed for the gym. As she’d expected, the steady thump of basketballs filtered through the hallway before she even reached the door.
Sure enough, half a dozen boys were shooting hoops, while her five teen models huddled in the corner, awkward and wide-eyed. The same look she gave the coach when he wasn’t looking. Classic ogling.
Speaking of the coach, there was no sign of him. Perfect.
Vanessa strode toward the players with her runway confidence and clapped her hands. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, practice is canceled today. Fashion show prep takes priority.”
The bouncing stopped immediately. Every single one of them froze, staring at her like she’d grown a second head.
Finally, the one with the floppy brown hair spoke. “Uh, but we have a game this week. Coach wanted us to have this extra practice.”
Vanessa smiled at the boy, and his face turned two shades redder. “I’m so sorry. I’m sure you can all reschedule for another time. Maybe in the afternoon. We’ll probably book evenings here from now until February so we can maximize rehearsal.”
A snort echoed behind her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing now, princess?”
Her smile didn’t waver, though her gaze narrowed slightly as she turned to face the source of her unending annoyance. “Zeus,” she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Your timing is perfect, as always.”
Ignoring her jab, he crossed his arms and shot her a look that could’ve melted glass. “You’re canceling my practice without talking to me first?”
He rolled back his shoulders in a way that made his ridiculously sculpted muscles flex under his signature athletic tee. Long-sleeved today, covering up those delicious tattoos. Shame.
Why did he have to be so hot? Why did his body have to be so perfect? His face was a stunning mix of intimidating and austere, like something straight out of a romance novel, if the romance in question was a slow-burn enemies-to-lovers that came with a side of frustration and scowls.
He should look frightening, with a jagged scar across his eyebrow, another, fainter one, along the sharp cut of his jaw, and the permanent scowl that made him look like he was always in the middle of an existential crisis. But no. Somehow his appearance had the opposite effect on her.
Everyone else in the gym was appropriately intimidated by his deep baritone and commanding presence. But something about him hit her in all the right places, which were, in fact, the very wrong places when it came to this man. It annoyed the living hell out of her.
Matching his posture, she folded her arms. “We have a fashion show in three weeks. A show that, I might add, will earn a lot of money for this place.” There was no guarantee she could deliver on that, but she’d made a career out of faking it until she made it, so she was rolling with that mindset in this situation as well.
“Money that might buy you a new gym one day.” She gestured to the exposed ceiling beams that she was pretty sure weren’t there for aesthetic purposes.
“So if I were you, and I’m just saying—” She popped a hip for emphasis.
“I’d let us have the space we need to make this the best show we can.
” She ended by pouting her lips, the same pout that Esquire magazine had featured on its cover shortly before her modeling career imploded.
Jordan glared at her for so long that she almost squirmed under his scrutiny.
He stepped up to her, so close she had to tip her head to maintain eye contact.
His scent, warm and woodsy, enveloped her in an intoxicating cloud.
She blinked to clear the cotton balls that had suddenly formed in her brain.
“Well, Vanessa,” he rumbled, his voice somewhere between a purr and a growl, which she found both soothing and dangerous.
“If I were you, and I’m just saying—” He leaned in, his nose brushing an inch from hers, his gaze searing.
“I’d find another space that isn’t my gym,” he finished, his voice low and intense.
“Because there is no way on this good earth I’m risking my boys’ chance at the finals on your fashion show. ”
She reared back with a gasp. He didn’t. The last time her hip pop and pout hadn’t worked was… never. She glared at him, though staring him down proved annoyingly difficult when he towered over her five feet eleven inches.
Movement behind Jordan’s shoulder drew her attention to Rory nervously shuffling from one foot to the other, and the wide-open gym doors beyond her.
An idea unfurled slowly in the back of her mind. Payback at its finest. The boys could have their gym, but that didn’t mean they’d get a quality practice.
“Fine. You can stay here. This time.” Straightening, she smiled brightly at Jordan, satisfied when she caught the flash of surprise at her easy acquiescence. “We’ll take today’s rehearsal elsewhere.”
Shouldering past him, she sashayed toward the girls, who were watching the confrontation with wide, cautious eyes. “Come on, ladies,” she hollered as she collected the shopping bags she’d dropped on her arrival. “Rehearsal will be this way today.”