Milo
There’s one surefire way to get into my heart, and if you guessed food, then you’re partially correct. Food is literally the foundation of life, and it’s one of the best things on this earth, so it sucks that I have a job that forces me to count calories.
Not that I’m doing that tonight. I deserve all the greasy takeout after the fitting from hell. One might think running around all day is exhausting, but they haven’t tried standing still for hours on end.
But the number one way to my heart is sharing a meal with me. Eating alone sucks. I’ll eat with Ray when he’s free, but time is a rarity for him these days.
Who those people are, don’t ask me. That’s what I have Ray for.
Besides the work that’s related to me, he’s been asked by his company to be a mentor in some kind of mentorship program. I’m not too sure about the details, but Ray is super excited about it, so he had happily agreed. Which means even more of his time is being eaten up.
I’m very happy for him and fully support him doing whatever makes him happy—he deserves that—but it also means I’m down a meal partner.
Jack has been with me for years and is great and amazing at his job, but he’s a real stickler for rules and what’s appropriate.
He rarely engages in conversation and refuses to eat with me.
And now that his daughter has given birth to his first grandchild, he’s hoping to go into semi-retirement.
Which is why I’m in need of a new bodyguard. One that I insisted on picking myself. One that will not only keep me safe but maybe, possibly, keep me company.
Is a bit of conversation really too much to ask for? And since we’re all human and need to eat anyway, why not just eat together? I really don’t think I’m asking for that much, especially since I’m excellent company! People love hanging out with me.
And by people, I mean Ray and Ethel. Although Ray is usually grumbling about one thing or another, and Ethel insisted on staying at her nursing home instead of moving in with me, claiming she’s too old for my life of debauchery, which I’m a thousand percent sure she’s getting more action than me.
Nursing homes are wild.
Nevertheless, I know they both love hanging out with me.
But my social circle can’t be comprised of two people, and thus my search for a bodyguard began…and it seems the end is here because Rowan is perfect!
“You told the company that I want Rowan, right? He’s going to be my official bodyguard now, yes?”
Ray looks up from the pan of scrambled egg whites he’s cooking.
“For the tenth time in the last five minutes, yes, and you continuously asking won’t change that.” He shoots me a glare that slides right off me.
“Good, because he’s perfect for the job!” I say with a grin.
Ray slides a plate of the limp-looking eggs in front of me—yuck!—and boinks me on the top of my head.
“More like he’s easy to manipulate,” Ray replies.
“I can’t help that I’m charming.”
I flash my award-winning smile at him, and Ray pretends to gag.
Rude.
“But I wasn’t able to persuade him to spend the night. I guess nobody’s perfect,” I say with an overly dramatic sigh.
“Not even you, huh?”
“Besides me, of course,” I quickly add and flutter my lashes at him.
Ray laughs heartily and ruffles my hair. He knows I don’t really think I’m perfect—far from that, in fact, but he indulges me anyway.
He takes his own plate of scrambled egg whites and sits beside me at the island. Instead of eating, he’s looking at me with an expression that tells me that big brain of his is going a mile a minute again.
I take a bite of my eggs while I wait for him to speak his mind. It’s as bland as I thought they’d be, and a far cry from the explosion of flavors from the Thai I had last night. If not for the event I have to attend in a few days, I wouldn’t touch this with a ten-foot pole.
Who thought eating eggs without any of the yolky, gooey, deliciousness would be a good idea, anyway?
“Just eat it quietly,” Ray suddenly orders, like he can hear my thoughts, then he sighs. “Sometimes I think I’m taking care of a child.”
“I’m twenty-eight this year, I’ll have you know. And I’m fully able to take care of myself!” I say with a huff.
“I really wish I could peel back your brain and see what’s in there. I wouldn’t be surprised to find ninety-five percent of it full of song and lyrics, and the remaining five are what you sustain your every day on.”
Ray shakes his head sadly. His expression pisses me off, so I find his nipple and give him a hard pinch.
“Mother bejeezus!” he yelps and crosses his arms to cover his chest. “I know we’re close, but not like that! Never like that!”
“Yes, yes. We all know your type is assholes, which is the complete opposite of me,” I quip back.
He rubs his nipples. “They’re not all assholes. The guy I met in L.A. last week seemed nice.”
“The one who flirted with every breathing being there, including me?”
“Well, that doesn’t change the fact that he was nice,” he says with a sniff. “And what about you? Don’t forget your only ex was also a cheating asshole.”
“He’s your cheating asshole of an ex too,” I mutter, but zip my lips at Ray’s glare.
He hates being reminded of Andrew, the guy who played us both. I think he forgets that, despite the heartbreak that bastard put us through, without him, we wouldn’t have met and become best friends.
In fact, if I hadn’t met Ray, then life as I know it wouldn’t exist. He wouldn’t have scouted me to audition for the boy band his company was creating, MYTHS never would have blown up and dominated the charts for years before our group breakup, and I wouldn’t have my current successful solo career.
So, I guess, in a way, I have to thank Andrew for all of this. Not that I’ll ever admit that out loud. That bastard can rot in my past, where he belongs.
I bump Ray with my shoulder and choke down the rest of the scrambled eggs.
I’ll need the energy to hit the gym for the rest of the day.
I’m attending New York Fashion Week on behalf of Ralph Lauren in a couple days, and after the hassle of the fitting, I doubt they’ll be happy if I suddenly pop a button the day of the event.
Ray chews his rubber eggs much more slowly, his eyes still on me. “Speaking of types…Rowan seems to fit yours exactly. Towers over you like a giant, broody enough for the both of you, and glowers like he’s about to break someone in half with his bare two hands. He probably could too. Easily.”
I laugh because Rowan is very much built like a tank. He’s the perfect size to hide behind while he bulldozes our way through a crowd of paps. But he’s more than a giant brute, as I learned yesterday.
“He’s kind, too. He bought us snacks. He didn’t have to do that,” I say, feeling this strange wave of protectiveness wash over me. The idea that anyone could take Rowan at face value and fear him unsettles my stomach.
I rub my belly, thinking maybe the unappealing breakfast is the cause of my weird state.
“For someone who practically grew up in a world of lies and deceit, you’re too trusting.”
“I joined MYTHS when I was twenty,” I interject.
“Exactly. A child who grew up in this cutthroat industry that’ll chew you alive and spit you out like yesterday’s trash. I don’t know how you would have survived without me,” he says dramatically.
“Alright, we get it. You’re the best agent turned manager there ever was. Your mentees won the lottery getting you as their guide,” I deadpan. My empty praise earns me a satisfied grin, and he claps me on the shoulder.
“Which is why you should listen to me when I say this: don’t get too attached. Some people’s actions are not genuine. Don’t forget what happened last time,” he says softly, like speaking quietly will make the memory sting less.
It doesn’t.
“I thought we agreed to erase that from our minds? Never to be spoken about again?”
There’s a look of pity in his eyes now, and that somehow pisses me off more than the gloating or goading. It reminds me of the unconcealed, pitiful glances those distant relatives of mine shot me at my parents’ funeral.
So-called blood relatives, I’d never seen before in my life, coming with half-hearted condolences and late birthday wishes. Nobody asks for their parents to die in a tragic car accident on their twenty-first birthday.
Legally able to drink and legally without any family?
I’ll take a life of abstaining from alcohol, thank you very much.
Not that I drank much anyway. Alcohol lost all its appeal the moment a drunk driver swerved onto the wrong side of the highway and hit my parents’ car head-on and killing them instantly.
They say death brings the worst out of people, and I had first-hand experience of that the day of the funeral. The people who claimed to be my family pretended to care in front of my face, but had no problem talking about me and my family behind my back.
The poor Tobitt boy. His parents had it coming to them. Even when they were younger, they were always doing shady things at all hours of the night. But now Milo’s alone, he’ll need family. And family helps each other out. Maybe he can introduce my son to…
And on went all the ways my connections would benefit them.
I had no delusions about their poorly hidden intent of trying to butter me up now that I’d made something of myself. They wanted to use me under the pretense of helping family.
None of them were there when our family was struggling with Mom’s hospital bills from when she’d collapsed years prior from exhaustion. Or when Dad had to take on all those extra shifts at work just to cover the bills.
These people hadn’t offered even an empty promise of help or words of condolence then. My great-aunt Anabelle was the only one who came around with oven-ready home-cooked food and whatever little assistance she could provide.
She was also the one to kick those scheming bastards out of the funeral. It was every bit as dramatic as one would think and very much needed. It’s no wonder Aunt Anabelle got along so well with Ethel at the nursing home.
Birds of a feather.
That had been my first lesson on not being too trusting or getting attached so easily. But I was never good at school, which is what led to the incident Ray mentioned—the one that totally never happened.
Jamie was a much better actor than those people from the funeral and had me fooled for a little while. But I caught on eventually, and I learned from it.
I’m no longer the same, trusting Milo, even though I generally like people. I might still crave friendship and companionship with those around me, but I know the limits. I’m a better judge of people, and I won’t fall for kind gestures as easily as I did before.
That doesn’t mean nice won’t earn you brownie points with me, but I’m better about getting too attached now, I promise!
It helps that Rowan has a successful career of his own, and even from our brief conversations yesterday, he seems very uninterested in the entertainment industry.
Well, he seems to have a general disinterest in the mega-rich in general, which isn’t a bad thing.
At least I know he won’t try to use me to climb the ladder.
Things with Rowan won’t go the same as they did with Jamie. I know better now. I won’t get attached.
Maybe.
Probably.
With me being a better judge of character now and all, I can tell Rowan’s not the type of guy to cling to people with status, so Ray’s worries are unfounded because everything will be fine!