Page 5 of Voice to Raise
I sighed. “Can you do a complete deep dive into Malik Forestal? You seem to know a lot about him.”
“Well, Razor Made is Blossom’s favorite band.”
“Not yours?” Since I hadn’t even heard of them, I certainly didn’t have a bone in this fight.
“I’m still a classic Grindstone fan. Axel is smoking hot.”
Grindstone, I’d heard of. “Aren’t they down in the States somewhere? And was that the guy…who kissed a guy…” I pressed a hand to my forehead. I was going to need some heavy-duty painkillers very soon. Maybe even my migraine pills.
“Yeah. Axel had a video of him kissing his high school teacher, and he leaked it to the internet. Although if it’s a video of you, and you have it, then it’s not really leaking, right? It’s just uploading—”
“Bonnie.”
“Sorry. Yes, Axel uploaded a video of him kissing his teacher—although this was ten years after graduating, and there was nothing going on between them while he was a student—”
“Thank God for that.” I didn’t know any of these people personally, but I didn’t like hearing about shit like that.
“And, yeah, Grindstone is performing at Rocktoberfest again this year. I could tell you all about…” She tapped her phone. “But something tells me you want Malik’s history on your desk in an hour.”
“Twenty minutes would be better.” I offered a weary smile. “But thorough is important.”
“I’ll send it through in chunks. Take your pills.” She plopped into her chair, put on her noise-canceling headphones, cracked her knuckles, and started typing like a madwoman.
Thoroughly exhausted—even though the clock hadn’t hit ten—I headed to my office. The layout of this house was traditional—each room separated by doors. Personally, I much preferred the modern approach to having open living spaces, but this setup enabled me to have a private office that I could lock each night after work.
I unlocked my cabinet and pulled out my laptop. I placed it carefully on the desk, then dropped into my chair. After a ten-second debate, I opened my drawer, yanked out my migraine-prevention pills, dry swallowed one, and let out a groan of pain.
Knowing me, I’d left it too long. Tough to balance the moment I realized I was about to get a migraine with the moment it hit and the drugs might no longer be effective.
“Fuck.”
Unsatisfying, but necessary.
I pulled my water bottle out of my knapsack and took several long pulls. Lukewarm. Gross. Also didn’t have it in me to go to the kitchen to get cold. I’d never ask Bonnie—I wasn’t that kind of boss. If she just took upon herself and used her initiative torefill it with cold water, however, I’d thank her profusely. I was great at keeping track of legal precedents and emails from our accountant. Eating and staying hydrated? Not so much.
After letting out another sigh, I opened the laptop and dove into my emails. I started with one from a donor, complaining about seeing our logo splashed across her television screen. She said she wouldn’t be contributing anymore. Next came a notice from the bank that our line of credit was getting close to being maxed out.
I checked the calendar—even though I absolutely knew today was the twenty-second. The transfer I’d arranged for the twenty-ninth would cover payroll and most of our bills. And there’d be enough to cover the interest charges on the line of credit. I didn’t like carrying that much debt, but the foundation that provided much of our funds paid at bloody inconvenient times, and everything was juggling ten balls in the air and hoping none fell.
My notification pinged.
I winced.
Then, I navigated over to Bonnie’s email and opened it.
Jesus.
I nearly swallowed my tongue.
This is Malik Fucking Forestal? Holy crap. Hot. Seriously hot.
His hair struck me first. Black, kinky, and curly.
Next were his lips—plump and completely kissable.
He had high cheekbones, and as I followed his cheeks down to his strong jawline, I considered how I felt about this.
He wore a shirt without sleeves, and his muscles were…impressive.
