Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“She’s your neighbor?” Mikey blurts, shocked by the revelation that I now realize Rayne didn’t share with them.
I don’t know if that’s normal, or if he simply didn’t bring it up after two months of living in the apartment below mine, but there’s no doubt each guy in here knows who I am.
I don’t know how, whether it’s through my work or by being the spawn of Sasha and Nikolai Fowler, but it’s very obvious that my name is known among this circle.
And Rayne didn’t mention it. Should I be offended? I don’t even know.
A point proven when the Oreo-haired guy, Gene, argues, “You’ve lived in the same building as the woman who has photographed almost all of our clientele, is the daughter of two very well-known actors, and is the niece of the best coach the Titans has seen, and you didn’t think to mention that? What the fuck, bro?”
I almost laugh, mostly because not very many people at all know that Mack and I are even related, but somehow, this pierced guy with a kind smile does.
Hell, the guys didn’t even know until two out of four of them witnessed it, and that tickles me in a way that has me sending Rayne a somewhat mocking smile he rolls his eyes at.
“Gideon was singing her praises when he was here last time,” Billy chimes in, scrunching his sub wrapper in his hands as he chews the last of his food.
“Said the band’s latest promo photos were the best they’ve had because of her, and you kept her a secret since you moved in? Dick move, Hunter. Dick move.”
Humbly, I bow, feeling my cheeks warm at the praise.
Gideon and I go way back to when he and his bandmates started Neon Graves, and I’ve been one of two photographers lucky enough to photograph them during tours and promos.
I managed to snag the position for their last tour six months ago, and the photographs really did come out better than anyone anticipated.
It’s pretty cool knowing he’s still talking me up to those who will listen.
Apparently, he’s the only one, because Rayne has kept my identity under lock and key, and I turn to face him with a curious look. Not angry, not offended, simply wondering why he’d keep that to himself.
Alas, I don’t get an answer, because the cutie with a trucker mouth chimes in instead, nodding sagely while she echoes, “Dick move, Hunter.”
“Oh my God,” I breathe, slapping my hand over my mouth at the same time Mikey glares at a shocked Billy.
“Dude,” he snaps at the guy, glaring even though his eyes fill with a sprinkle of amusement only cussing kids can conjure.
Billy holds his hands up in apology, cringing, and mutters, “My bad, bro. It’s hard to censor myself when little ears are around.
I’m not exposed to these conditions often enough.
I already miss being allowed my freedom of speech without catching shi- crap for it.
You should put noise-canceling headphones on her when I’m around, damn it. ”
“It’s one morning. Suck it up,” Mikey argues, even though Laylah has completely checked out of the conversation after dropping the D-bomb, merrily chomping away on a triple-chocolate-chip cookie. The girl is living the dream, for sure.
Sighing, the model-looking guy looks back over at me and smiles. “So, what brings you by? Did Rayne finally ask you to do the studio promo? We’ve been nagging for the longest time, especially when Gideon came in and showed us the band photos.”
Rayne sighs like he’s had this argument before, and grumbles, “We don’t need it. Our clients are high-end enough that word of mouth and our social media keep our schedules busy.”
He avoids looking at me when I turn to face him, and a somewhat mocking smile tugs at my lips when I realize he’s probably been catching shit about asking me to book a shoot.
There’s even more humor in knowing that he didn’t tell his employees he was living in the same building as me, likely already realizing he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he did.
It certainly makes me understand why he kept it under wraps now, and I can’t help but poke the bear.
“Damn, Rayne Cloud. They’ve been nagging?
And you’ve ignored them even though we’ve had dinner together almost every day for the past two months?
You didn’t even tell them we’re in a group chat and everything?
Not even a single mention that I’m booked to shoot the promo for Caiden Miller, your roommate and best friend?
Damn, that’s cold,” I innocently quip, flashing him a smug grin when his mouth falls open and he sends me an amused look of betrayal that is incredibly comical when it’s on Rayne’s face.
I don’t bother hanging around for that particular bomb to land, standing and wandering off to where I spy several chunky folders that call to me like the ocean calls to Moana.
I’m already halfway across the black-and-white checkered floor, leaving Rayne under the bus I drove over him, when Billy exclaims, “You fucking what?”
And then all hell breaks loose, and I catch Mikey frantically covering Laylah’s ears right before Billy delves into a colorful tangent about what a shitheel Rayne is. It’s truly beautiful, and I’m grinning like a maniac when I reach the folders and flip the first open.
What greets me are some incredible pieces of artwork, tattoos on countless celebrities that have been labeled with the artist’s name.
I’m impressed seeing how many times Rayne’s name appears, admiration filling me with every beautiful piece I come across.
I didn’t doubt his work would be nothing short of stunning.
I know how capable he is with his hands, and I’ve spent enough time ogling the ink that lines his skin, seeing the same style etched onto others.
He must have designed his own tattoos and, I’m guessing, asked Billy, Gene, or Mikey to immortalize them onto him.
I completely ignore the men in the room while they chew Rayne a new asshole, a little sense of justice niggling its way into my chest after he decided to keep my existence a secret from these people.
I’m distracted enough that I almost miss the little tug on my cargo pants and I pause, peering down only to find a set of dark eyes looking up at me, a chocolate-covered smile aimed right at my damned heart.
“Hey, sweetheart. Enjoy your cookies?” I ask her, blocking out the delightful threat Billy slings at Rayne and hoping she doesn’t hear Rayne call him a thundering glory hole in return.
Thankfully, she appears none the wiser, and she holds her arms out to me with grabby hands most children master when they’re still cute.
I know a request for “uppies” if I ever saw one, having been around plenty of child stars in my career, and so I give the girl what she wants, distracting her further from the carnage I’ve created.
Gently, I pick Laylah up, impressed by how light she is. I sit her on my hip, bouncing her a little as I quietly mutter, “What say you and me go on a little adventure while the silly geese over there shout at one another, hm?”
“Silly geese,” Laylah sighs with a nod, and I bite back a smile as I walk her away from the arguing guys and beeline for the door I watched Rayne and Mikey walk through earlier.
I catch Laylah’s dad’s eyes, pointing at the stairs, and he nods subtly with a barely there smile that gives me approval to steal his child and distract her from the colorful vocab happening in here.
With an exaggerated pep in my step, Laylah giggling when I dramatically act as though I’m about to drop her, I sneak us away and start a mental timer on how long it’ll take Rayne to come looking for us. I don’t plan on making it easy for him, either. Where would the fun be in that?