Chapter 9
VAN
This elevator ride is taking too fucking long.
After booking up interviews for concert day and taking care of last-minute details for tonight, I managed to snag a half-hour nap, and then it was time to shower and change for the evening.
I hated suits, but given that I was the band’s rep for, well, everything on this trip, I made the effort. But I refused to wear a dress shirt and tie.
We were in the music biz, after all, and no one expected conventionality.
I was texting back and forth with the organizer of tonight’s party as I rode the elevator up to Brodie’s suite.
But all my thoughts about work short-circuited as soon as I walked down that hallway and spotted Brodie with his back to me, standing with the band.
I’d never seen him wear that vest before, but it was sexy as hell. It cinched his waist and was held together by black laces that crisscrossed down his back, the edge of the vest hitting the upper curves of his ass.
I smiled as I caught sight of his kilt. Not for the first time did I wonder what, if anything, he was wearing under it.
He wore them on stage all the time; sometimes, it was the only thing he wore.
As we made our way to the elevator, my eyes wandered back up to Brodie’s face, his eyes rimmed in dark liner, his mouth slick with gloss.
I didn’t know which was sexier, him all-natural or made up. Either way, in my eyes, he was a gorgeous human being.
And even if you stripped away his physicality, he would be the same to me.
His talent, his drive, his connection to his fans - it had everything to do with who he was as a person, not what he looked like.
He turned his head toward me, and a slow grin graced his lips.
There was power in that secretive smile of his, and it had me shaking, my hands so sweaty I nearly dropped my phone.
“Remind me again about the woman hosting this party,” Brodie murmured as he leaned closer to me, his shoulder brushing mine, his hot breath hitting my ear.
I shivered and shook my head, trying to get my brain and mouth to work together again.
Some people assumed Brodie’s smart-ass attitude meant he didn’t give a shit about anything.
But he took his job seriously. No matter what, he showed up when called and gave the fans and supporters what they wanted.
It was the reason why the label allowed him leverage, room to say whatever he pleased.
If the fans were happy, everything was good.
“Um… Juliana… Green,” I managed to reply, my voice hoarse.
I cleared my throat and took a deep breath.
“She’s a socialite and donates a lot of her time and money to causes in the city.
She and her husband own a trucking company and several other businesses.
They heard about the concert and the fact that we’re donating the proceeds to one of their favorite charities, so they were only too happy to host a meet and greet.
There will be limited on-site press for photos only since this is a private event.
If anyone tries to get a statement from you, let me know. ”
“You better stick close to me. You know how aggressive the media can get.”
I met Brodie’s intense gaze and swallowed hard.
“You’re a seasoned pro by now. I think you can handle it.”
Brodie was about to argue with me, but we finally hit the parking garage and the doors opened.
Regan went first, then Dawson flanked Brodie, and I walked behind.
We headed for the two black SUVs, parked side by side.
Brodie got in the back seat of the first vehicle, and I followed. The rest of the band headed for the second car.
Once everyone was ready, we ventured out into the busy New Orleans night.
Every street we passed had colorful architecture and people outside talking, singing, and dancing. I loved the flow of the language down here, including the smattering of French that I recognized and felt at home with.
Maybe the day after the concert I’d take some time and explore a bit. Visit a few local clubs and soak up the atmosphere. And have a sumptuous meal or two.
I noticed Brodie’s leg tapping out a nervous rhythm and, without thinking, reached out to touch his thigh.
“You all right?” I asked, then quickly pulled my hand back.
“Yeah, you know me. These private events aren’t really my thing. I’m good with faces, but names, not so much. And I hate making small talk with the who’s who of whatever city we’re in. High rollers are usually so full of themselves.”
“Yeah, not like rockstars,” I quipped.
Brodie gave me his favorite finger.
Some things never change.
“What about after? The club? Do I have to go?”
I paused, completely surprised at his question.
Brodie loved to party and hang out with his band brothers. And he was never short of male attention when they went out. Plus, he had a day off tomorrow to recuperate from whatever shenanigans he got up to tonight.
I had the electronic NDAs loaded in my phone and ready to go.
Even though the thought of having to deal with whoever caught Brodie’s eye tonight made me ridiculously pissed off. So much so that the grip on my phone was near painful.
I usually avoided the party circuit, leaving that to their PR person. I was a shit dancer, and club music was not my jam to start with. And I tried to avoid any place where Brodie would hook up.
But now that I thought about it, he seemed to be doing that less and less…
“You don’t have to, but it’s the perfect time to blow off some steam since you have all day tomorrow to rest.”
“I don’t care about clubbing anymore. Or that whole scene.”
Was Brodie seeing someone? Was that why he didn’t want to go out and get laid like the rest of the guys?
“Have you… are you…”
Fuck, I was tongue-tied.
“What?” he asked, staring at me.
“Are you seeing someone? Is that why you don’t wanna go out?”
My question was met by silence and a glare I knew all too well.
“Are you kidding me?” he snapped.
I shrugged. “No. You’re acting out of character. I just assumed—”
“Don’t assume,” he bit out. “Have you heard me talk about anyone? Have I brought anyone around to meet the guys?”
“No but—”
“If I were seeing someone, you’d damn well know!” he snarled.
“Okay, all right. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
I wasn’t. I was unreasonably happy about Brodie’s proclamation.
“Since you did, there is someone I want.” Brodie leaned into me so close I could see the specks of dark green in his gold eyes.
The fire was still there, but it wasn’t anger.
I began to sweat in earnest despite the air conditioning.
“Unfortunately, I don’t know how he feels about me.
He probably thinks I’m just trying to get into his pants, and given my reputation, that’s fair.
Still, I don’t want anyone else. Haven’t for a long time.
But I can’t seem to get through to him. And not getting what I want is making me edgy,” he paused and bit his lip.
“Don’t make presumptions, all right? And you can take that NDA and shove it up your—”
“We’re here,” Regan called out, interrupting Brodie’s snark.
“Brodie—” I started, but Dawson was already out of the car and waving at us to follow.
“We’re not done,” Brodie shook his head and gripped my arm. “Tomorrow. As you said, we don’t have anything on the schedule. I want you to spend the day with me.”
I wanted to, fuck, did I want to. But I had work and… yeah, work.
If the head of the record label had any inkling about my newfound feelings for their number one artist, I’d be out on my ass in a heartbeat.
“I—”
“Please, Van.”
The quiet way Brodie asked, the seriousness of his tone, caught me completely off guard. He sounded pained. It was so unlike him that it made my pulse kick up again and my stomach drop.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
It was the best idea. My heart wanted me to go, but my head kept telling me to stop.
Brodie’s entire demeanor shifted, and his face iced over.
“You know what? I changed my mind. I’d love to go out later. Maybe a quick fuck with a hot guy—or two—is just what I need to get over these annoying as fuck feelings that have pained me long enough,” he snapped and stepped out of the vehicle, slamming the door.
I rushed out after him, but he was already headed inside with his detail.
I barely had time to register the venue, a stone mansion with intricate carvings and green ivy climbing the brick walls. Huge trees lined the property and gave it a feeling of privacy.
I was too unsettled by Brodie’s sudden anger to appreciate it like it deserved.
One thing I did notice, however, was that the house was crawling with security personnel.
Regan was already talking to someone stationed at the front door. I nodded as I passed and entered the house. The rest of the band were already inside, waiting in the foyer. A huge crystal chandelier hung over us, illuminating a space filled with antiques and art.
I walked up to Brodie, but the angry look on his face had me pausing.
“Not now, Van,” he cautioned.
Then he turned his back on me, sauntering to the far corner to talk to Holloway.
Regan and Dawson stepped up beside me. I felt Regan’s stare.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“I think so.”
I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.
“Are you sure?”
“Not at all.” I shook my head.
“I’m not stupid, you know.”
“Excuse me?”
“I see the way he looks at you. If you’re having a lovers’ spat—”
I choked on nothing but air and my own spit and started to cough.
Everyone turned to look at me, but I waved them off. I cleared my throat.
“It’s not… we’re not, I mean, I’m not sure—”
She held her hand up. “I don’t need to know unless it compromises his security.”
“Can we just forget this entire convo?”
Regan nodded and crossed her arms. “With pleasure.”
This night was going to be a long one.
I pulled out my phone and checked my messages, texting the organizer to let her know we had arrived. I was supposed to do that when we left the hotel, but I’d forgotten completely. Not surprising, given the source of my distraction.
I glanced up and noticed a brunette woman in a black velvet dress walking down the stairs. Then I remembered the email with the party details. This was our host for the evening.
“Welcome to my home, Green Estates. I’m Juliana. I’m honored to meet y’all, and thank you for coming this evening,” she announced.
When she got to the bottom of the stairs, I headed over and did the intros.
A half-hour later, I was standing in a packed ballroom filled with loud chatter, louder music, and the best damn food and liquor I’d had all year.
Brodie, of course, continued to ignore me as he did the rounds.
He charmed everyone, young and old alike. Eventually, they convinced him and the band to sing an impromptu song, which he graciously agreed to. No mic, no instruments save for a piano.
He was spectacular.
Brodie showed the audience his innate talent, and they lapped it up.
The applause went on and on until Brodie finally jumped up on the piano stool and whistled, silencing the room.
“Thank you all so much. Promise me you’re gonna bring that passion to our concert on Halloween night! And if you think tonight’s performance was good, you ain’t seen nothing yet. We’ve got a new song, and New Orleans gets to hear it first.”
More cheers and catcalls rang out as Brodie hopped down and grabbed his drink, toasting with the guys.
He finally looked over at me and raised his glass, then downed the drink in one go. I watched him flag down a waiter for another round, giving him a broad smile. The server was obviously enamored, given the way he was blushing and leaning into Brodie real close.
He wasn’t the only one.
For the past two hours, Brodie had been swarmed by good-looking men all vying for his attention. And he hadn’t exactly been ignoring them.
He didn’t want anyone else, my fucking ass.
I, in turn, stayed glued to my phone to distract myself.
One bourbon became two, then three, and then I had to cut myself off or risk doing something stupid like getting shitfaced and causing a scene in front of two hundred people.
I placed my last drink aside, determined to restore my concentration, but my eyes, like a magnet, were drawn to him.
Another guest, a man worthy of his own billboard, sidled up to Brodie, offering a million-dollar smile, a long once over, and then, a business card.
I watched, holding my breath, as Brodie glanced at the man and then the offered card.
And when Brodie took that card in hand…
Let’s just say my reputation for patience – and my professionalism - had finally reached the end.