Page 16 of Fa-La La-La Land
It’s not a yes to my idea, but it’s not a no either. Although no one would blame me if I gave up right now, based on Rhys’s level of enthusiasm, which is around minus zero.
But I’m not a girl who gives up. Especially since VibeHouse agreed to pay mea lotof money to make Rhys look good. Not to mention the fact that this opportunity dropped in my path roughly thirty seconds after my job with Georgia got scaled way back.
“We’ll have to make it more than a ‘Surf City’ reunion, you know, to keep Danny happy. But I think it’s a good starting point. You’ve got other friends to invite, right?” I ask brightly.
Rhys’s mouth presses into a hard line. It stays there as he stops long enough to dig some money out of his pocket and drop it in the hat of a homeless man playing saxophone. The twenty-dollar bill lands on top of a handful of coins and dollar bills. The man stops playing long enough to nod and say, “Thanks, Mr. James.”
“Cheers, Rod.” Rhys’s lips soften into something like a smile for the saxophone player. A distant cousin of a smile, but still a wisp of something that disappears as quickly as it appeared.
When we’re far enough to talk without yelling over the saxophone, Rhys grumbles, “Keep it to my mates.”
I stop and turn to him, tired of his clipped answers and storm-ridden face. “Do you want me to help you or not?”
He meets my gaze with an immovable one of his own. “I’ll have the party, but keep it small. Just my mates…this time.”
I’m tempted to keep fighting him, if only because I get an adrenaline rush when I see his eyes flicker a darker blue in anger. But I get the sense I’ve pushed him far enough for today.
“Fine. Pick a date and let me know.” I offer him a smile that he returns with a huff, but as we move again, I catch a grin sneaking across his face. “Then we should set up a regular schedule for me to come over and get some pictures and videos of you just…being you.”
When he doesn’t answer, I steal a glance at him. Rhys licks his lips, and I remember how much I used to want to kiss those lips for real. I can’t help noticing they look so much softer than poster paper pinned to a textured wall.
“I think it’ll be easier if you move in.” His eyes dart to me, and in the dim light of the setting sun, I see his cheeksflush. “I didn’t mean to sound like I want you out of my way. I mean you’d have your own space. In the pool house. Privacy. I’ll fix it up however you want. Right now, it’s got a lot of my mum and dad’s stuff, but I can move that to a storage unit.”
My mouth drops. Does Rhys James actually want me to live with him? I mean, notwithhim, but in the same vicinity. Closer than that. On the same property.
Ishouldwant this, right? From a practical point of view, I should be jumping at the chance. I already said I’d move out of Georgia and Zach’s. I need a place to stay. And it would only be for a few months.
“How much would you charge me for rent?” I ask. The last thing I want is to put off any freeloader vibes.
Rhys whips his head to mine and lifts his lips, like I’ve said the craziest thing he’s ever heard. “Nothing. I don’t need your money.”
I cross my arms. “I’m not staying there for free.”
Rhys stares at me, rolling his eyes. “You’re not paying me. Danny said you have to live there until Winter Lights Live. If you want to stay beyond that, we’ll figure out how much rent you should pay.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the fact is, I don’t have the time or the desire to go apartment hunting for something within my budget, which, until I get my first paycheck from VibeHouse, is around zero.
So…I don’t think I can say no.
Even more troubling, I don’t think I want to.
“Okay, but you really don’t have to go to any trouble fixing it up, Rhys.” I let my eyes fall from his to the sleeve of tattoos covering his right arm. He had only a few on his upper arm in the last poster I had of him. But that was years ago. I wish I had more light—and more time—to study the ones he has now.
He doesn’t smile, but there’s an unmistakable brightness inhis eyes. “It won’t be any trouble. I’ll have my PA handle the details. Just tell her what you want.” He takes my elbow again, sending the same buzz of electricity down my arm. “Let’s keep walking.”
I point to the beat-up SUV parked behind him. “This is me. I guess…send me your PA’s contact info, then.”
Rhys takes out his phone and taps a few buttons. “It’s my mum.”
My phone pings with a text I assume is from him. “Your mom’s your PA?”
He shrugs. “Who knows what I need better than my mum?”
I nod, recalling again everything I’ve read about Rhys James. “Isn’t she kind of… retirement age?”
I don’t know how to say it more politely. Camellia was in her forties when she had him, which would make her in her seventies now. Most PAs are in their twenties or thirties. My age. People young and hungry. Not ready to retire.
The corner of Rhys’s mouth tugs. “She’s still spry. I reckon she’d quit if she wanted to.”
