Page 14 of Fa-La La-La Land
She stops at Danny’s expression. I reckon mine looks the same—equal parts shocked and impressed.
Stella softens her smile. “Before doing what it takes to deliver the payload, you make sure the heifer is comfortable. Sometimes you even sing to her, Danny. You take care of your assets, because if you can get one great steer from her, you can probably get more, but only if you treat her right.”
Danny blinks. Stella clasps my shoulder. “Rhys is your heifer, Danny. Let’s keep him comfortable and happy.”
“What? How am I the heifer?” I twist away from her and glare. “If anything, I’m the bull.”
Danny bursts out laughing while I seriously consider firing her on the spot. I’m not thrilled to be the heifer in this analogy—especially the one getting, as she put it, “payloaded.” I’m about two seconds from going full bull-in-a-china-shop just to prove I’ve got horns—until Stella shoots me a quick look over her shoulder, a tiny shake of her head, and I swallow my ego.
“How much footage are you going to need?” Danny asks, still chuckling.
Stella draws a calm breath. “Well, when I first started with Georgia and Zach, I filmed a lot. Everything they did on set, but also stuff off set. I mean, I practically lived with them. It didn’t take long for them to forget I was there, which made it possible for me to capture those day-in-the-life moments Georgia’s fans wanted to see.”
Danny’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s not a bad idea—you living with Rhys, so you can get all the footage you need. Take the semen to the heifer, right?”
Stella makes a strangled noise that’s half cough, half laugh. “That wasn’t really the point of the analogy. I’m not moving in with Rhys.”
“I’ve got no room for her to live at my place.” Spending more time with Stella would make all this social media stuff more bearable, but she can’t live with me, or I’d forget how to talk altogether, let alone sing.
“How much room do you think she needs?” Danny asks, like Stella’s got no say, but then he turns to her. “I want you living with Rhys for the next four months. Until Winter Lights Live, your only focus is rehabbing Rhys James’s reputation. Ifyou deliver what you’ve promised, then we’ll start adding other VibeHouse artists to your client roster.”
“This won’t work, Danny—us living together.” I turn to Stella and wait for her to back me up.
She cocks her head and puts her hands on her hips, and I prepare for her to refuse.
Instead, she says, “I hear you, but I’m worth a lot more than a prize-winning bull, and I expect my salary to reflect that.”
Danny bursts out laughing again while I try to work out how I’ve gained a new roommate and why I’m pulsing with excitement instead of anger.
Chapter Six
Stella
Hours later, after signing contracts and too much schmoozing with Danny, Rhys and I walk out of his office together. We make our way to the elevator without saying a word. Rhys is even tenser now than when he walked—no, ran—into Danny’s office.
I assumed he was stressed about being late. But he never really loosened up. His entire posture grew tighter and tighter with each passing second until he was so stiff and on high alert, he could have been wearing one of those funny hats and guarding Buckingham Palace. Which surprises me, because I know he’s worked with Danny for over ten years now.
Silently, we walk down the long hallway lined with gold records, and I wonder if Rhys’s are out here or closer to Danny’s office where he can keep an eye on them. When we reach the elevators, he pushes the down button, then stares above the doors.
“Pool house is the best spot for you. You’ll have your own space. I just need some time to get it ready.” His eyes don’tmove from the numbers as they slowly change, tracking the elevator’s progress from the first floor.
I scoff. “I’m not moving into your pool house.” The doors open, and he waits for me to step into the elevator, then follows. “Is that why you look so stressed right now? You’re worried I’d actually move in with you?”
A deep crease forms between his brows as the doors close behind us. “You’re not movinginwith me. The pool house is out back. And I’m not stressed.” He sounds surprised, not relieved, like I expected.
The doors shut, and I laugh uncomfortably. “I can’t live in your pool house, Rhys.”
“Why not?”
“A lot of reasons…” I blink. “We just…” How do I tell him I don’t want to be stuck hanging out with him during my non-work hours? “I think it would be better to keep a little distance between us.”
He stares at the elevator buttons. “You won’t be a bother in the pool house.”
I bite my lip to hold back another laugh, but I can’t contain my smile. The scene inPride and Prejudicewhere Lady Catherine tells Lizzie she can play the piano in some back room where she won’t be in anyone’s way flashes through my head.
The tips of Rhys’s ears grow red, and I wonder if he realizes he might have offended me. I decide to let him off the hook.
“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need to live with you to make people like you again,” I say, firmly enough to put an end to any possibility of a super awkward situation where I’m living in thepool houseof the rock star whose poster I used to kiss goodnight.
