Chapter 7
Isabelle
I spent half of my Sunday sleeping, because I’d gotten home from the party at three o’clock in the morning. When I woke up, I already had messages from Josie, Tess, and Skye. I punched my pillow into a comfortable position and read them while lying in bed. I planned to be lazy the whole day.
Josie: How was the party? I need details. Pleaaaaase.
Tess: Can you tell us who your guy is now?
Skye: So I did some research on the band. It’s Brayden, isn’t it?
Damn, Skye knew me well.
Grinning, I made a group, adding all the girls, and named it The Curious Club.
Isabelle: Since you’re all asking about the same thing, we might as well have a group.
Josie: Hell yes.
I also noticed a message from Brayden. He’d sent it late last night.
Brayden: Did you get home safe?
It was endearing to me that he always double-checked.
Isabelle: Sorry, I fell asleep right away and just woke up.
Brayden: I figured as much.
Isabelle: Already in Nashville?
He called me the next second. I put a palm on my belly, barely able to contain my joy.
“Yes. We already have a radio interview lined up. Starts in ten minutes. Then we have a photo shoot.”
“Poor you. I plan to be lazy all day.”
“I’d love to be lazy with you.”
“Brayden…”
“Wait, don’t finish that thought. We’ll talk when I’m back, okay? Face-to-face.”
I smiled, drumming my fingers on my stomach. I wasn’t ready to stop this flirty thing we had going on, so I said, “Okay.”
“I’ve got to go. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
Damn. If he said swoon-worthy things like that when we met, I was done for.
As soon as the call ended, I glanced at the screen. The Curious Club was alight with messages.
Time to bring my girls up to date.
My lazy Sunday turned out to be exactly what I needed to recharge, but the next morning, I still barely dragged myself out of bed.
I was a bit slow on Mondays in general. I took a cup from the cupboard that said “Just another fabulous Monday” on it and filled it with steamy hot coffee.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, I checked my phone. I had a message from Brayden.
Brayden: I have an idea.
Isabelle: Holy shit, so early in the day? I’m barely sipping my first coffee.
Brayden: Good.
I chuckled.
Isabelle: You think chatting me up on a Monday morning before I’ve even finished drinking my first cup of coffee is a good idea? You’re in for a surprise, mister. I need at least two to stop being grouchy.
Brayden: Then I’ll wait until you’ve had two.
I grinned at my phone, dying to know what he wanted to say. It took me all of five minutes to drink both coffees. I’d never been that fast. And it amused me that he waited for me to actually do it.
Isabelle: I’m done.
Brayden: Someone’s in a hurry.
Isabelle: You made me curious.
Brayden: Sasha scheduled a meeting for us with you on Friday. I want you just for me after that.
Warmth coursed through me, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I wanted to say yes. I very much wanted to, but was it a good idea? I laughed at my silliness. Why was I overthinking this? It was harmless flirting. And a few smoking-hot kisses.
Isabelle: Why?
Brayden: You know why. Can I call you, or are you in a session already?
Isabelle: No, but I’m running late. I need to be out the door in a few minutes.
Brayden: What’s your schedule like?
Isabelle: I have back-to-back sessions from nine to six in the evening. We can talk after?
Brayden: That’s when I’m attending the talk shows. Mornings?
Isabelle: During my coffee wake-up time? You like to live dangerously.
Brayden: Always.
Isabelle: Okay. But starting tomorrow, right? I’m already running late today.
Brayden: Tomorrow.
I grinned, hurrying to the bathroom and getting ready in record time.
On the way to my office in Brooklyn, I got a headache.
It happened a lot because mid-July in New York was horribly humid and the AC in the subway was freezing.
On the bright side, I got a few more messages from Brayden.
The only problem with my apartment was the horribly long commute, but it was worth it because the rent wasn’t high.
I felt like I was in high school again for the rest of the day, waiting for the boy I liked to text me.
I checked my phone constantly, though I was discreet during sessions with clients—only checking my smartwatch for notifications of messages.
If I got a message, I was so excited to read it that I completely blocked out what the client was saying.
If I didn’t get a message, I was wondering what he was up to.
And that had to stop, as I was doing a disservice to my clients.
On Tuesday, I woke up with a solution: I’d just leave both my phone and my smartwatch in my purse. But right now, I had Brayden on my mind. We’d agreed to talk at seven thirty.
I snapped a picture after the second coffee, sending it to him along with the caption “I’m ready.”
I sat on my fluffy couch, staring at my phone. My face exploded into a grin when the screen lit up with his name.
“So punctual,” I teased.
“I don’t want to waste a minute.”
“How come you get up so early?”
“We have a gym routine.”
“Now that I’d love to see.” Holy shit, did I say that out loud?
Brayden chuckled. “Always happy to give you a private show.”
I groaned. “Maybe we should rethink this talking in the morning thing. My thoughts are even more unfiltered.”
“I like that.”
We chatted about everything from my breakfast to his plan for the day. Before I knew it, I had to leave.
“I want to hear your voice tonight. Let’s talk after my TV appearance,” he said. “This wasn’t enough.”
“Okay,” I whispered, knowing I was going to think about the phone call the whole day.
During every break, I rushed to the closet where I kept my bag, checking both my watch and phone to see if I had any messages..
I was so excited, I couldn’t even explain it, especially since we hadn’t talked about the elephant in the room. I didn’t bring it up, and neither did he. But I was enjoying talking to him too much. Perhaps we could get this flirting out of our system by the time he returned, and then we’d behave.
At lunch, Sasha texted to ask if I could meet her for drinks after work so we could discuss the next steps. I agreed to it because I had no plans.
They’d done another Facebook live video yesterday from Nashville.
I’d looked through the comments and wanted to discuss them with her.
The talk show they went on yesterday was also streamed on YouTube, so I read the comments there as well.
They weren’t as enlightening as the Facebook lives, because the band didn’t have control over the content.
I met Sasha in the lobby of the Plaza Hotel, smack-dab in Manhattan.
I knew the building from my guided tours, as it appeared in a lot of movies, like Home Alone 2 and Sex and the City , but I’d never been inside.
It was all plush expensive carpets, crystal chandeliers, and golden accents. The place dripped with old luxury.
Sasha was wearing a knockout black cocktail dress.
I’d only ever seen her in office clothes before and noticed how lovely she looked tonight.
I hadn’t wanted to change at the office, so I’d dressed casual chic this morning, with a knee-length red dress that had a deep V neckline.
My favorite part was the black belt around my middle.
Just to be on the safe side, I left my phone in my purse, on mute, so I wouldn’t be tempted to look if I heard a message. I wasn’t sure how she’d feel about this thing between Brayden and me, and until I knew what it was, it made no sense to bring it up now.
“How come you’re not away with the band?” I asked after the waiter brought us peanuts and the menus.
“Good God, I don’t always travel with them.
It would be so exhausting. They don’t need me with them in person.
I’m always available on the phone anyway.
I’ll travel with them during the first part of their tour, but I don’t go away every time.
Now, let’s see what you’ve got before we start on the cocktails. ”
“Sure.” I took the iPad out of my purse, and of course I couldn’t resist and also checked my phone. My stomach bottomed out. I didn’t have any new messages. Then I remembered the talk show had started. God, I was in trouble.
I showed Sasha the psychological profiling I’d done on the band and their fans and highlighted what they had in common.
I’d also made a list of topics they could tackle during their live videos, or even in interviews, if the host was cooperative.
It was all designed to fill in that gap the label had identified—the fans wanted personal tidbits from the band, not promo material thrown at them.
And if they responded well to this communication strategy, I was certain sales would go up.
I also thought they’d reach a new audience—younger consumers who spent all their time on social media and didn’t respond well to ads.
“Oh, this is wonderful,” Sasha exclaimed. “I kept forgetting to ask you about it.”
“I thought it might be useful.”
I loved giving my clients an actionable plan, and it was easy in this case. I always preferred specific instructions over vague ones.
“You know, I was antsy when I first came up with this idea. But I’m so glad I followed that instinct.”
“I am too. It’s by far the most exciting assignment I’ve done in a while.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Want to come by the cottage on Friday afternoon once they land? You could discuss this with them. I’m sure they’d love to hear it from you.”
I hoped my poker face was on so she wouldn’t realize that I already knew of their arrival—thanks to Brayden, of course.
“Sure.”
“Perfect. And now, no more talk of the band. I asked you out here to say thanks for taking on the project. Drinks are on me.”
“Oh, that’s very generous of you. Thanks.”