Page 70 of The Bad Boy's Homecoming
“Alright, I’m sending you the interview information now.”
“There’s one more thing.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Can you check on someone for me?”
“I’m your publicist, image consultant, not your assistant.”
“But she would be someone who could impact my image, in a good way.”
“I’m listening.”
“Her name is Missy Shaw.She’s an artist, she’s…”
“The latest artist to use social media to launch her career, started out with landscapes but has moved into decidedly sexy impressionist work.Yes, I’m familiar.”
“You’re scary.”
“Thank you.She’s all over my feed.Has an exhibit in town this month.”
“When?Where?”
“You know her?”
“Yes.”
“Attending her show would be a good way to show up in Atlanta again, especially with former teammates.”
“I don’t want any of my drama to mess with her big night.”
“Fine, just make sure you don’t cause any at the event, I’ll handle the rest.”
“Thanks.Gotta go.”Levi hung up and grabbed his glove.
Missy had an exhibit, her dreams were coming true, and he wanted to be a part of them.He wondered if she was thinking about him, or if she’d written him off.He didn’t even have her number.He’d messaged her on her social media, told Gran to tell her to call him.He’d even asked his brothers to give him her number.But they said she’d call him if she wanted to.
*
This was eithergoing to be the smartest thing he did, or be his ruin, Levi thought as he pulled into the crunchy shell driveway of his childhood home.Missy’s beat-up car was parked outside the garage and everything looked the same.But this time coming home had a completely different feeling.Walking up to the kitchen door, he felt like he should knock, which was bizarre considering this was the house he grew up in.
One more step and he was inside but decided he should call out to make his presence known.
“Hello?”
“Well hello to you too,” Gran said as she stepped into view in the hall just beyond the kitchen.
She was wearing a dress, with her short ankle cowgirl boots, and put her hands on her hips.
“My favorite grandson returns, again,” she said.“With flowers?”
He held out a bouquet of tulips for his grandmother but held the second bouquet back.She eyed those like a spy puzzling out his motives.
“I see.She’s in the art studio.Will you be staying for dinner?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well I’ll be out, but maybe you can cook for Missy.She hardly takes a break to eat—she’s so focused on her art these days.”
