Page 65 of Falling for the Rockstar

“Yeah, but I need time to work on your look, so open the door and let me in.”

I click my tongue. “Girl.” I hang up on her, stand and stumble over to the door in my half-awake, half-asleep state.

“Damn. You didn’t even make it to your bed. You just fell out right here,” she mumbles as she observes the surroundings, kicking my pants to the side and tossing my blouse onto my chair so she can sit down on the couch. “So, how was your trip? Did they get on your nerves like you whined about?”

“It was actually a nice trip. Busy most of the time. I did run into Reggie, and he was hosting a beach party. He interviewed the guys on the scene, and they had a great time.”

“Oh, so which bikini did you wear?” she asks with a very bubbly demeanor.

“Can you think of anything else other than what I was or was not wearing?”

“A, I’ve seen you naked and like me, there is nothing for you to be ashamed of. And B, fashion is my passion so I will never stop thinking about what you have on. Now, which one.”

I open my camera and show her the pictures I took with the red two-piece. Ironically, the opening picture is the one of me and Simon before the kiss.

“Damn, girl. I knew you would rock that shit. I love how it gives the illusion of just hanging onto your ta-ta’s. I see something else, though.”

I sit down and stare hard at the photograph. “What? I don’t see anything.”

“I see you smiling and big, might I add. Did you make a connection?”

“Other than a few of the other DJs that were out there, not really,” I respond, while searching for a misplaced hand or hair on my head.

“I mean with a certain guy, silly girl.” She takes the phone away from me and scrolls through the gallery.

“Oh. Well, there were these two guys who tried to hit on me, but I didn’t bite. I was working the crowd. I think the bartender tried but he never followed through.”

“Girl, was your plane pressurized? Simon, Myka. Did you make a connection with Simon?” She enlarges the picture of us in an embrace, and all of my teeth on display.

I contemplate telling her but then she’ll be all over me and want to know why it didn’t go further or better yet, why I’m not with him now. “Um, Bri, that is my client. You know there are rules to crossing the fraternization line.”

“That didn’t stop your boss.”

“First of all, Tiffany didn’t work for him nor was she a client so that is not the same. Secondly, why are you even making this a thing?”

“Hmm, for something to not have happened, you are fighting hard to deflect.”

I look away so she can’t see the lie in my eyes. “What are you talking about, deflection?” I stir the magazines on my coffee table to create another distraction. My heart rate increases slightly when I think about not what we did but how it made me feel.

“What did you do Myka? Did you fuck him?”

“Hell no. Why would you even think that?”

“You’ve been straightening those magazines for the past three minutes and the position hasn't changed. You’re hiding something. I know it and I will figure it out.”

I roll my eyes and move on to another subject. “So, what do you have for me to wear tonight, and better yet, what will you be wearing?”

“Oh, I’m your date? I didn’t know. Good thing I bought this one shoulder, bat-winged romper to wear.” She opens garment bag number one and pulls out a blue leather jumper with strategically placed cutouts that leave nothing to the imagination.

“Wow, Bri. This is amazing. You are going to turn heads for sure. Maybe even land you a rock star.”

“Chile, please. I always look good, but you my dear will be the one landing a certain rock star tonight.” She opens garment bag number two, and I am just in shock.

“No way am I wearing that.”

“Why not? This is perfect. It’s edgy, it’s in keeping with the theme, it’s a head-turner, red-carpet-ready, and a paparazzi dream come true.”

“It’s missing lots of material.”

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