Page 493 of Rock Me All Night
And then I'm outside, and the door is shut, and Tom is staring at me with the most intense expression.
He smells good. Every impulse in my body tells me to wrap my arms around him. Somehow, I resist.
"How is your mom?" I ask.
"Great. Pete's treating her like a queen. You okay?"
I shake my head. "Whatever you're going to say, can we get it over with? I'm not in the mood for anticipation."
He reaches out to touch me but stops himself. "I want to show you something first. It's important. It will only take twenty minutes to get there."
His expression is earnest enough that I believe him. Okay. I've come this far. I can survive another twenty minutes.
Tom pulls his car keys from his pocket and offers them to me. "You have a license?"
"Yeah, but it's been a while."
"You want to drive her? She's a lot of fun."
"I guess so." I take the keys, slide into the driver's seat, and turn the car on.
"Got you something." Tom reaches into the glove box and pulls out a pair of women's sunglasses. He hands them to me. "You'll need them if you decide to stay in Los Angeles. It's bright as hell here."
"Thank you." They're nice shades. Designer. A black frame with a slight cat eye. Grey lenses. I slide them on and check my reflection. Not bad. I almost pull off rock star girlfriend. But then I shouldn't get ahead of myself.
* * *
Tom directsme south on a street that runs parallel to the ocean. By the time he tells me to leave the main drag, I have the hang of driving.
He points to a parking space in front of a small white and grey apartment complex. We're a few blocks from the beach, close enough to hear the waves and smell the salt. There's beautiful soft light everywhere. And the ocean seems to go for miles.
"It's through here." Tom leads me to a door markedThree. He takes back the keys and uses one of them to unlock the door.
Okay. We're going into a strange apartment. It's not his. He lives in Hollywood. What the hell is he trying to show me?
It's a beautiful place. Light streams through the wide-open windows. There's a small kitchen along the wall. A bed, a couch, a dresser, a changing screen in the back.
And there's photography equipment. A tripod. A lighting kit. Gold and silver bouncers. Stands. There must be a few thousand dollars worth of accessories here.
"What is this?" I ask.
"It's your photo studio."
"I can't afford this."
"The lease is paid for the next twelve months. If you don't want it, ignore it. But it's yours." He takes the key off the ring and hands it to me.
It's sharp edges press against my palm. I meet his gaze. "I don't even know if I want to run my own studio."
"Yes, you do. You get this look of excitement in your eyes whenever you talk about it. Whenever you look at your photos. You can think whatever you want about me, kid. But I'm not going to watch you run away from your ambition." He stares back at me. "You deserve the world. This is the least I can do."
"I can't take your money."
"Then consider it a payment."
"For what?"
"I need your help with something."
