Page 37 of Noah
I worked with the press, now. I knew how to spin a story. And I’d been around the boys long enough to know what the reporters expected of them, so I was making it believable. The band needed a new contract, which everyone knew, and Noah had just had that meeting with the first set of record execs. He was nervous and wanted to bounce some ideas off me.
And the press wasn’t even surprised about that part. Many of them had covered the Authors before and knew that Noah and I were close. It was no big deal. I had the whole thing under control.
Until Noah came storming in there, trying to play hero and messing it all up. He’d offended the press—as usual—and then made it sound like we’d actually spent the night together, asin spending the night together not just brainstorming ideas between old friends. Of course the press had jumped right on that, because that was their fucking job, and Noah made it all even worse by grabbing me and running away from them.
Then shoving me into a closet.
Again.
I was getting really, really tired of being shoved into a closet, both physically and metaphorically. I didn’t know what Noah and I were doing—nothing good—and honestly I didn’t even know what I wanted from him. I hadn’t had two seconds to think about it.
I knew I didn’t like being hidden.
But I was also terrified that Noah had made a big enough mess that it was going to get back to the tour managers. And Janette. If there were pictures of me and Noah from this morning and they came with a story that implied we were sleeping together…
I was already going to be in big enough trouble when Janette found out I knew the band she’d set me up with.
If I was also sleeping with one of them, it was going to mean my job.
My worst fears came true about an hour later, when I got a text from Janette demanding a video call.
I mean, at least I’d had a shower by that tine.
I pulled my laptop out and accepted the call with my heart in my mouth and a list of excuses sitting next to me. I didn’t know what the call was going to be about, but I suspected we’d be covering two things: Noah and me spending the night withhim. I’d prepared a number of reasons I’d done so, and I thought some of them were pretty good.
Hopefully good enough to save me.
“Janette,” I said, trying to sound perky and knowing I sounded tired and stressed.
Jannette looked me up and down, looking displeased. “You look like shit.”
Of course I did. I’d been up last night sharing a bottle of whiskey with my best friend, and then up the rest of the night fucking him. And now I was on a phone call with my boss about it. She, I noted, looked gorgeous, as usual. Soft, smooth ebony skin; large eyes; and natural hair. She looked like she’d just stepped out of the salon, where she’d had a thousand-dollar facial.
Fuck, maybe she had. That sounded like the sort of thing she’d do.
“Thanks,” I said, smiling wryly. “I was up late last night.”
“Figuring out how to do the spread I asked you to do, I hope,” she said quickly.
Well, shit. “Um… Not exactly.”
Janette’s face went from at last relatively friendly to stern. “Molly, I already told you what’s at stake, here. I like the pictures you’re sending but they’re not Tempest style. You need to shoot sexier stuff. Less high school artsy, more edgy. I sent you out with rock stars and I want rock star pictures. Give me the grunge and drama. The dirty edge of being on the road. I thought I made myself clear about that.”
“Right, you did, but I’m just not sure I can do it,” I said quickly. “I don’t know if any of the guys is going to be willing to go that far.”
Janette put her hand down on the table and leaned toward the screen. “And I’ve heard that you actually know this band, which you didn’t tell me before. I’m willing to overlook that littleomission for one reason, and one reason only. It gives you an in. If these boys are your friends, then you can convince them. Get to Noah Michael. Tell him you want to do this shoot. Get him to agree to it, for old time’s sake. Threaten him if you have to.”
I had never seen this side of Janette, and honestly, it scared me. I’d thought she was friendly and charming and artsy.
Now I realized she was as cut throat as the movies always made people like her look.
“Threaten him?”
Her face turned a shade colder. “Tell him your job depends on you getting this shoot done. If he’s the friend you think he is, he won’t turn you down. Get me that spread, Molly. And remember the rules. No talking back. No questioning orders. No fucking around with the stars. I like you. I’d hate to have to fire you for breaking your contract.”
She hit a key and the call ended, leaving me staring open-mouthed at my computer.
No talking back. No questioning orders. No fucking around with the stars.
