Page 20 of Wingwoman
“That’s correct. But while we’re at it, unfortunately, I don’t think this business relationship is going to work.” I reached into my purse and pulled out the check he had given me earlier that evening. “Here’s your payment back. It’s clear that the lines are now blurred and that’s not how I operate my business. Good luck finding your muse, Josh.”
His bright blue eyes narrowed, studying me. “Your nostrils are flaring and you’re chewing the inside of your cheek. Still want to claim you’re not mad?”
“I’mnotmad.”
“Right, you’re just leaving. And firing me.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s hardly firing whenyou’rethe client.”
“You’re right. The one being paid usually can’t fire the payee.”
I made an effort to relax my nostrils. Always my tell, my dad claimed. “And yet… here we are.” I held out the check further to him, waving it in the cool night air. “Take your check, Josh.”
“Tell me why you’re mad,” he said and stepped directly in front of me. Not in a confrontational way; it was anything but threatening. Pleading would be a better description. He was pleading with me to be honest.
I sighed. “Again… I’mnotmad. However, it was clear to me in there that you love the crowd. And it took you several minutes to realize I was gone and even then, I’m going to take a wild guess and say that Nina probably alerted you to that fact.”
He blew out a deep breath from pursed lips. “I’m famous.” He tossed his hands into the air and they fell to the outsides of his thighs. “What do you expect me to do about that? People want my picture. They want my autograph when I’m out. Sometimes it’s cool. Other times it sucks, but it’s just a part of my life now.”
“I get that,” I said, impressed with myself that I was able to remain so calm. “I really do. But you asked why I was leaving and that scene in there made it obvious we aren’t a good fit. And it cemented my belief that I am definitelynotyour muse.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a humorless chuckle. “Actually, if anything, you just proved without a doubt that youaremy muse. A good muse would never let me get away with ditching her for fans. I would introduce her to them. Hold her at my side. Tell them which songs she inspired.” He paused, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Then again, you didn’t agree to be my muse… so Icouldn’thave done any of that.”
“Nor would you have,” I said, clarifying. “Not without us having this talk. Regardless, I’m not going to be your muse. And now that I know you think of me that way, I doubt we can successfully work together.” Just then, my car pulled into the lot. Thank God. This conversation needed to end. The longer I stayed here in front of him, the more at risk I was of him convincing me to stay.
I opened the back door and slid onto the leather seat, pulling the seatbelt across my chest.
Josh stopped the door just before I closed it. “Wait. What if we work out a deal? I can pay you more—”
“I don’t need more money, Josh.” That was a bold-faced lie, but he didn’t need to know that. “Besides, it seemed to me like you could have tossed a quarter to that crowd in there and found a muse.”
He snorted. “I could have tossed a quarter and found a one-night-stand, not a muse. There’s a huge difference and I think you know that.”
I paused, taking a deep breath into my lungs. “Well, it doesn’t change anything—”
“Twenty thousand dollars. As a retainer for your exclusive help over the next two weeks.”
A gulp lodged in the thick column of my throat.
And based on the way Josh’s eyes gleamed, he saw my reaction. “I need to find my muse before the fifteenth or else I won’t have time to write my album. I’ll pay you twenty thousand dollars up front. Right now.”
Twenty. Thousand. Dollars. I was so stunned I couldn’t move. My ass felt plastered to the leather seats as I stared open-mouthed at Josh. His grip on the open car door loosened just slightly.
“Ma’am,” the driver said from the front seat. “Are you ready to go?”
“I—um, just a minute.”
I needed that money. That sort of payment would cover my exorbitant costs for a new apartment in New York City and then some.
“I’m coming with her,” Josh told the driver, then shut my door and rushed around to the other side of the car, hopping in the backseat with me. “I’ll come back for my car after you get home safely. My mama would kill me if I took a woman out and didn’t see to it to get her home.”
“I didn’t picture you to be a mama’s boy,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes.
He was silent beside me and when I stole a glance to my left, he was staring solemnly out the window. “She died seven years ago,” he said softly.
Well, crap. I’m a piece of shit. “I’m sorry, Josh. I shouldn’t have said that.”
He sent me a small, sad smile. For a glimpse, I saw remnants of him as a little boy. That same flash of vulnerability I had briefly witnessed earlier.
