Page 82 of Sweet as Sin (Bad Habit 1)
I didn’t want to invite questions, or attention. I didn’t even think I should be there. But Nico had refused to consider the possibility. “Wherever I go, you go,” he’d said, all growly and Nico-ish, and that had been that.
My cover story, in case anyone asked, was that I’d done Avery’s makeup on a photo shoot at some indefinite time in the past, and we’d hit it off and become quasi friends.
The only problem was Kenji.
Today he wore a shiny dark-purple suit, the color of an oiled eggplant. The coat, embellished with peacock feathers on the lapels, fell past his knees. His eye shadow matched his suit, and his platform boots matched his vest: searing vomit green. The overall effect was startling. He was only missing a top hat and cane to pass as a ringmaster in an acid-trip circus.
Judging by the sadness in his eyes, however, his mood was anything but circus-like. I wondered how close he and Avery had been.
“So are you and Nico a thing now?” He glanced across the room to where Nico stood staring at me over a bald guy’s shoulder.
“Um.”
Kenji waved his hand. “Oh, lovey, don’t worry, I won’t tell. It’s none of my business. If he’s happy, I’m happy. And I’m guessing by the way the man is ogling you, that he’s plenty happy. I’ll never forget the way he looked at you the day you met—”
“Kenji!” I hissed.
He blinked, surprised. “What?”
Three tall women with the walk and bearing of models approached, accompanied by a short, fat man sweating bullets in a black suit a size too small. The women stopped and looked me over in silence while the fat man stepped forward with his hand extended.
“Hi. Ethan Grossman, Avery’s manager.” His face reddened. “Former manager.”
I shook his hand, smiling tightly. How unnecessary to add that caveat. I disliked him already, especially since he seemed to be looking at my chest with a little too much interest. I’d worn a very simple black sleeveless dress that showed no cleavage, but that certainly wasn’t stopping Mr. Grossman from trying to find it.
“Kat Reid. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Kenji, stylist for the band.” Kenji proffered his hand, which Ethan shook, then quickly dropped, turning his attention back to me.
“You a friend of Avery’s?”
Oh shit. Here we go. My tight smile got tighter. I’m sure my mouth looked as puckered as an asshole. Without looking in Kenji’s direction, I said, “We worked together.”
Technically, that wasn’t a lie. It was definitely stretching the truth, however. I hoped that’s all I’d have to say on the subject, but one of the models perked up, recognizing me.
“You’re the girl in the band’s new video, right?”
The other two models murmured in agreement, assessing me with sharp, calculating eyes. Ethan’s gaze turned wolfish.
“Oh? You’re a model? Do you have representation?” He grinned. “I’m always on the lookout for fresh new faces. And this Christina Hendricks look—” he waved his hand, indicating my figure—“is definitely coming back in style.”
Jesus H. Christ, these people were unbelievable. He was recruiting at a wake? I let my smile drop and just stared at him. He took my look for one of confusion.
“She’s the curvaceous redhead in Mad Men.”
“I know who she is. And I’m not looking for representation, thank you.”
The three models seemed a little too satisfied to hear that. My guess was that they were clients of Ethan’s. I’m sure they didn’t like hearing that zero percent body fat might not be in vogue for much longer.
“Hey.”
The gruff greeting from behind made me jump. I hadn’t realized how tightly my nerves were strung until then. I turned to find A.J. standing there, staring down at me.
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
Relief swept over me. Saved in the nick of time. “Of course.” I nodded to Ethan and the three models, who’d never even bothered to introduce themselves. “Excuse me.” I squeezed Kenji’s arm. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Okay, lovey. Whatever you say.”
