CHAPTER FIVE
“Noooo!”
“How do you think I feel?”
“But you have to come with me!”
“Do you think I actually want to miss this? I’ve only been looking forward to it all week. I bought a new dress and everything.”
I can practically hear Hayley pouting on the other end of the call, where she’s sitting at her desk.
I shouldn’t give her a hard time about this.
It’s not like she wants to miss the show.
But I feel really lousy now that she’s told me she can’t come along, thanks to work that absolutely has to be done by the end of the day.
Meaning it doesn’t matter whether the poor girl gets out of the office before midnight so long as it’s finished.
Which means I can’t just go without reminding her how much more fun it would be to have her with me.
“I don’t have to go tonight,” I offer. “Maybe we can get tickets for another show. I can write different situations without actually needing to meet him. In fact, I don’t need to meet him at all.
I bet I could make something up now that I’ve had a little more practice in writing steamier books. ”
“Kitty Valentine. Are you for real?”
I don’t know what to make of the stern tone she just adopted in her voice.
“I think so?”
“Do you honestly mean to tell me you would give up an opportunity like this? To fulfill a lifelong dream?”
“Let’s be fair. I don’t know if I would call it a lifelong dream precisely.”
“You know what I mean. This is a big deal for you. I want you to go. I know it sucks, having to go by yourself, and I wish there were something I could do about it. But I absolutely won’t have you missing out on this just because I have to work late on a Friday night.”
“The show doesn’t start until nine. Are you sure you won’t have the time?”
“I’ll be lucky if I leave here by then.” There’s so much disappointment in her voice; it just about breaks my heart. “Even if I could leave before then, I would want to freshen up, and it’s not like I brought my outfit with me.”
“I could go to your apartment and grab it for you, if you want. I could drop it off at your office.”
“You really are too sweet.” She’s smiling, I can tell. But that doesn’t make things any better. “Really, it’s okay. Who knows? If the two of you hit it off, you could invite me to the next show. Or to your wedding.”
“Hang on a second.” I laugh, and my cheeks get all hot and flushed even though I know what she’s saying is totally ridiculous and would never happen.
“For one thing, you’re the one who always reminds me that I need to keep things casual.
For another thing, how the heck am I supposed to meet him if you’re not there to introduce us? ”
“Oh, right. Darn it, I forgot that part.”
“I could still go to your apartment to get your clothes.” I really wish she would give me the okay on this because I would rather not do this alone. What’s the point of going to see him if I don’t have her to break the ice?
“I trust you. You’ll find a way to make yourself visible.”
“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or what.”
“It’s definitely a compliment.” She giggles.
“You have a way of doing that. And if you can’t think of any other way, just tell him the truth.
You’re there because the lawyer who works with his agent got you a ticket and encouraged you to introduce yourself.
It doesn’t have to be any more serious than that. ”
She makes it sound so easy. Sometimes, I think she forgets that not everybody is as naturally stunning and arresting as she is. That’s a good word for her. Arresting. The sort of girl who stops conversations in their tracks just by entering a room.
Me? I’ve been known to stop a conversation, but it’s usually because I trip over my own feet or call somebody the wrong name or spill something on myself.
“Maybe I’ll trip over a cable or break his guitar. That will catch his attention.”
“That’s the spirit.”
I can’t say I feel much better when we’re off the phone. It’s bad enough that I feel like a piece of garbage for going to see Dustin when we were both so excited over this, but now, I have to wonder if it’s all in vain.
Regardless, I have to get myself ready—and now that Hayley won’t be there with me, I have to try harder than ever to make myself interesting and appealing, so I’ll catch Dustin’s attention.
Which means going all out with my hair and makeup, for starters. I use a curling wand to achieve bouncy waves, and then I roll each curl around my fingers and pin them to my head, so they can cool that way while I put on my makeup. Tonight calls for something smoky, something dangerous.
It apparently also calls for three attempts at a perfect smoky eye. I’ve never been very good with applying the smoky-eye look. I always end up looking like a raccoon or like somebody whose makeup was flawless before they had a really difficult, drunken night. I call it the morning-after look.
Still, I think I look good by the time I’m finished, and I slide into a pair of jeans so tight that I have to do a few squats and lunges to stretch them out a bit.
A loose, flowing blouse goes over them, and a pair of ankle boots completes the look along with a big necklace and chunky bracelets.
Cute but not too much. I don’t want him thinking I went too far out of my way for this even though it took hours and hours to finally decide on the right look.
As the clock ticks down and I come closer to the big moment of seeing Dustin in person, onstage, my heart can barely handle it.
This is it. I’m really going to meet him.
Gosh, I hope my palms aren’t this sweaty when the time comes.
I make a mental note to dry them on my jean jacket as I’m leaving, locking up behind me.
Perfect timing, as always, because Matt is leading Phoebe up the stairs at that very moment—or rather, Phoebe is leading Matt up the stairs.
“Hi, pretty girl!” I grin as I drop into a crouch and hope I can manage to get back up. These jeans really are tight in the legs. They’re practically painted on.
Matt lets out a low whistle. “Don’t you look trendy?”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” I eye him with suspicion.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure yet.” He leans against the wall, still observing me. “So, this is the big night, huh?”
“It sure is.” Somehow, I manage to stand, wishing I hadn’t gone quite so skinny with the jeans. “I’m super excited.”
“You know what I’m super excited about?”
Something tells me he’s being sarcastic.
“Gee, I can’t wait to find out.”
“I’m super excited for the time when your boy-band revival comes to an end. No offense, but that’s not exactly my kind of music.”
“I don’t remember asking whether it was your kind of music or not.”
“And yet you insist upon playing it at alarmingly loud levels.”
“Come on. It’s not that loud.”
“I have seriously considered earplugs.”
“You’re just being a hater.”
“Be that as it may, I’m looking forward to you going back to your normal playlists.”
“Careful there. I might accuse you of stalking me and pressing your ear to the bedroom wall, so you can hear what I’m listening to.”
He snickers, shaking his head. “Get over yourself, Valentine. You know how thin the walls are. And for the most part, I like your taste in music. I like the old stuff better than a lot of what’s referred to as music nowadays.
I wasn’t really into music in my teen years—not the music that was current then anyway.
Honestly, I listen more to songs that were released before I was even born. ”
“I never knew that about you.”
“I’m a man of hidden depths.” He shrugs with a grin. “And when I listen to music, I keep it quiet enough that you can’t hear it because I’m a thoughtful and generous neighbor.” He checks his watch. “You’d better get going. Dustin won’t wait all night for you to show up.”
“I’m actually nervous.” Why did I just admit that? I sound so lame.
“It’s just a show. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Hayley can handle everything for you if you’re nervous.”
“That’s the thing. Hayley can’t come with me; she has to work late. Hey! Could you come?”
At least he’s gentleman enough not to laugh out loud—barely. He tries to hold it in, but a few snorts slip out anyway. “Me? No, thank you. I appreciate the invitation, and let’s be honest; it would probably be smart for you to have somebody there with you—to keep you from getting into trouble.”
Why does he always have to add a little something at the end to be especially jerky?
“Exactly what kind of trouble do you think I could get into at a small show in a small club?”
“You don’t have enough time for me to describe everything I can imagine going wrong. No offense.”
“Oh, none taken.”
“You’ll be fine.” He’s not kidding anymore, he looks and sounds pretty serious, without so much as a smirk. “Go on, introduce yourself to him, and remember, he’s just a regular person. That’s all. Just a normal guy. You’ll do fine.”
That’s just the trouble. It seems like I always have problems with normal guys.
As I’m on my way down the stairs, my heart sinking in time with my descent, I have to remind myself that I am Kitty freaking Valentine, and I can have any man I want.
Can’t I?