Page 7 of Dazzled By the Rockstar

Asher

All four of the men stood transfixed at the boardroom door, eyes locked on the stunningly beautiful young woman who was striding confidently toward them. She whipped off her cherry-red, heart-shaped sunglasses and popped them in her black satchel. She had a wild shock of black hair that gleamed under the chandelier lights and bounced freely around her shoulders. It was mostly straight, with a few wild curls here and there. It perfectly framed her pale, pretty face on either side. The choppy, layered cut accentuated how soft her face was. Her cheekbones were high and rounded, with no trace of anything resembling blush—real or powdered. In fact, the only discernible makeup Asher could notice were sharp black eyeliner wings, maybe a cursory pass of mascara, but nothing more. Her skin was flawlessly smooth and, to Asher’s surprise, his fingertips ached to touch it, to find out for himself just how silky it felt. She had dark brown eyes, but there was a lighter-colored ring around her pupil, giving them more of an amber tone. Like looking into a stormy sea with a buried golden treasure sparkling under the darkened waves.

Time seemed to slow down to almost a frozen frame. Asher felt all the noise and nerves dissipate to a soft silence as he took in the magnificent creature who seemed almost to glide across the lobby. He might have thought she was an angel, come to deliver some mystical message of peace, except that most angels probably didn’t wear an all-black ensemble. The girl was dressed in a form-fitting black dress that came down to the middle of her milky-white thighs, along with ripped white tights, black platform shoes, and a lacy black top that added a small level of modesty to the low-cut bodice, but still left plenty of pale skin visible through the lace. There were a couple of clunky statement rings on each hand, which looked oddly threatening on her delicate fingers.

Asher had only seen her in photos and videos over the years. Taped performances, printed interviews, the occasional advertisement. He had always considered her a very good-looking young woman, but somehow she managed to be infinitely more luscious in person. Her body was slender, yet with curves around her hips, ass, and chest. She towered inches taller than her natural height in her platform shoes. Her energy exuded from her, fiery, passionate, and contagious. Even without having said a word yet, she filled the lobby with bright light and sound. She truly was a force of nature. She was a gust of powerful wind, and Asher felt her from across the room. He felt a strange stirring deep within himself as she walked up to them. Asher was a thoughtful guy, but not a neurotic one. He had enough quiet confidence to feel at ease under pressure. And yet, somehow, this girl gave him heart palpitations. He felt his palms start to sweat, his body tingling from head to toe while he tried to look unfazed by the arrival of the sexiest woman he had ever seen.

She flashed a big, scintillating smile at the four guys. “Waiting for me?” she chirped.

“We were about to go inside,” Jimmy admitted.

“Without me?” She faux-pouted. “What, did you think I wasn’t going to show up?”

“Not for a second,” Matt assured her. Asher noted the lie, but said nothing. Clearly her bandmates were seasoned pros when it came to placating their wild-card frontwoman.

While Asher was still dumbfounded by her beauty, Blaze managed to choke out a normal greeting. “Hi, I’m Blaze. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Asher followed suit and muttered, “I’m Asher. Likewise.”

“And who are these dudes? Your new bodyguards?” Giselle joked, gesturing to Asher and Blaze.

“New colleagues, actually,” Jimmy corrected calmly. Before she got a chance to ask more questions, he steamrolled ahead and insisted, “Let’s go on in and we’ll talk there.”

Giselle shrugged, her amber eyes still looking up and down Blaze and Asher like she was appraising them for sale. “Sure. Let’s do the damn thing,” she said.

Jimmy pushed the boardroom door open and said, “After you.”

Giselle effortlessly brushed past them all to step into the boardroom first. She smirked and plopped down at the end of the long wooden work table opposite a big, paunchy man with slicked-back silver hair receding slightly from his forehead.

Bruce Jimenez.

He was dressed in a business suit that looked a little too tight on his dense frame, despite the fact that Asher could immediately tell it was professionally tailored. Somehow, this guy was important enough to have a yes-man as a tailor, someone who would overlook their own professional integrity to go along with whatever size he insisted he was. That was a level of Hollywood delusion Asher often encountered working in this flashy, fast-moving industry. When everybody was scrambling for the next gig, Asher couldn’t really hold it against him. Los Angeles was full to the brim with nervous hopefuls of all ages and types, people willing to lie to themselves or others if it gave them one iota of power—or even just the appearance of power.

The man took a weary look at Giselle, who promptly propped her big black shoes on the table as she leaned back in her chair. Asher and Blaze took their seats on either side of Bruce, while Matt and Jimmy sat on either side of Giselle.

“Good to see you all here today,” Bruce announced in his low, gravelly voice. His dark eyes rolled from person to person, lingering for a moment on Giselle, who was now actively chewing and blowing bubbles with her gum.

“Good to see you too, Brucey. But let’s aim for an afternoon meeting next time, huh?” the young woman said. “Nine a.m. really cuts into my morning routine.”

Matt snorted. “What morning routine?”

“The one where I wake up whenever I want to, do whatever I feel like doing, and go wherever I want to go,” she teased back.

“You know what they say about good habits,” Jimmy remarked.

“That they’re boring and I’ll never have them?” She giggled. Matt was fighting a laugh.

“Miss Kingston, could we move forward with the meeting, please?” Bruce sighed.

“Fine, fine. Do your spiel. I promise I’m listening,” she relented with an eye roll.

Asher and Blaze looked at each other for a split second across the table, and even though their faces remained blank, both knew what the other was thinking.

What the hell were they getting themselves into?

Bruce stood up, showing off more of his too-tight tailored suit, and cleared his throat.

“Anyway. For those of you I haven’t worked with yet, I’m Bruce Jimenez, head executive and producer here at Hot House Entertainment,” he began. “Hot House is a media company fully committed to fostering creative teamwork and artistic integrity. Over the years I’ve spent in the industry, I have successfully mentored countless artists, signed too many bands to count, and overseen the production of nearly a thousand records.”

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