Page 10 of Big Boss
“What exactly do you think I’m going to do there, Jackson? Serenade them with my all-time number one hit, Eating Out? Or maybe I should sing my other big hit, Silver Tongue? I’m sure that one would be super popular with the cancer kids and their moms.”
Jackson sighs, and I feel the weight of his disapproval all the way through the phone. “You don’t have to shoot the messenger, Tate. I’m trying to help you.”
I scrub my hand through my hair. “I know, I know. I’m sorry I’m being an ass. It’s just been a rough day.”
“Try not to worry too much about Crystal. We’re going to solve that problem, and I’ve already made a few calls. We just need to get you publicly seen with a good girl a few times and that will be the end of it.”
I groan. “I don’t want to beseen. Can’t I stay here and make music happen instead of always having to be out and about with someone I don’t even know?”
Jackson makes a noise that reeks of negativity. “Like it or not, you’re in the public eye. You have been your entire life. If we don’t manage the narrative, someone else is going to do it.”
Gross.Manage the narrative.Nobody should need their narrative or their dating life managed, especially as a grown man of a certain age. But here I am anyway.
“Fine, whatever. Just try to pick someone who I won’t actively despise, I guess. Also, please make sure she knows it’s for pictures only. No hanky panky.”
Jackson snorts. “Oh, poor Tate. All these beautiful women want to bang you into oblivion. I feel so bad for you.”
I heave out a rough breath. “Don’t be that guy, Jackson. You now get to spend today and the next week or so dealing with one particular beautiful woman who wanted to bang me into oblivion. So, yeah. I’m not about that.”
“Okay, I get it. Crystal is a problem. I’m just saying there are worse fates.”
“Yeah, I could always be a bitter old publicist who can’t see the good in anyone, including his own best friends.”
“Whatever, asshole. Let me hang up so I can go save your bad name.” And with that, Jackson ends the call and leaves me alone with my thoughts and the mountain of email printouts littering my giant desk.
It’s never exactly fun for me to have a new assistant in my life. I don’t doubt that Erica will do whatever I ask her to do, but it’s just a matter of how I can ask her without coming across as weird. Problematic. Defective.
I don’t know why I’m bothering to worry about it though. Erica is definitely more than a little odd herself, so maybe she won’t even notice my own quirks.
I take a few minutes to make her an email account, and then make her a to-do list and email it to her. Then I send her separate emails with instructions for each of the to-do list items.
Then because I don’t want to deal with the dark cloud hanging above me, I head home and have too much to drink while I stare accusatorily at my favorite guitar.
And as usual, there’s no new music waiting in there for me. I shouldn’t be surprised. I haven’t made any music creatively on my own for years now. Maybe that part of me is dead forever. I don’t know what to do about it, but I sure do hate the way it feels.
After a long night of flopping around in bed and second-guessing every decision I’ve made since I cut ties with my father, I finally crawl out of bed and get ready for work. I figure it’s about fifty-fifty odds whether Erica will show up at my office today.
Similar odds on the sleazy journalists, actually. I check the news updates for my name but don’t find anything new. Just more of the same.
Bad boy Donovan Tate ruining another woman’s life. Allegedly. If only they knew I’d been living like a monk for the last few years, they’d certainly have a wild time plastering that all over the internet.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say as I breeze in to my thankfully empty lobby. “Nobody would believe that.”
“Believe what?” Erica’s voice startles me, and I drop my portfolio, sending a sheaf of papers tumbling to the floor like big boring confetti.
“They wouldn’t believe that my new employee was lurking in my entryway trying to scare me. Also, why are you sitting here in the dark?” I frown at her, even as I move to the floor to gather up the newest mountain of paperwork I have to wade through today.
She harrumphs and comes over to where I’m scuffling around on the floor. I can only see her shoes (bright orange with little tassels) but I can see her shifting her weight around from one side to the other.
I turn my face up toward her. “What?”
She finally squats down and hands me a coffee cup. “Here. If you hold both of these, I’ll get your papers picked up.”
I peer at her, but she’s not even smiling so she’s probably not making fun of me. “Okay. Thanks for the coffee.”
I stand up slowly, balancing the two cups in my hands.
She looks back up at me. “Don’t thank me. You bought it.” Then she goes back to scrabbling around the entryway and scooping up pages into a messy bundle. For whatever reason, she’s crawling around on all fours like some sort of wild animal.
