Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Huh?”
“The girl from last night.” He snapped his fingers and frowned. “Starts with an X but sounds like a Z.”
“Xena,” I replied.
“Yeah! Were you still there? I thought you’d left. She wasn’t bad. Needs some polishing for sure, but her voice is strong. Well…strong enough. I dig her look. What do you think?”
I cocked my head. “About what?”
Seb sat up taller and gave me a thorough once-over. “What’s going on with you? Did you get laid last night? You’ve got that dopey look in your eyes like you either got the blowjob of your life or…”
“Stop.”
“Ooh. I’m right. Who was it?”
“For fuck’s sake, Seb. I’m not telling you who—”
“That’s okay. I can guess,” he said, picking up the coffee cup again and taking another sip. “The pretty blonde at the bar with the big tits. No? Um…oh. The guitar player! Carmine said he left after you went out for a cigarette. I thought you quit, by the way. You know I fucking hate it when you smoke. But yeah, that guy was pretty good. He was your type too. Dark and broody. So, what happened? You got five minutes here. I gotta give you my spiel and get to the studio before my secretary sends someone out to look for me. Go on.”
See what I mean? Seb the tsunami. The man was exhausting.
“I have nothing to say…other than it was one cigarette. Leave me alone and give me my coffee.”
He furrowed his brow as he handed the cup back to me. “Fine. I’ll get it out of you later. Here’s the deal.” He raked his hand through his hair, then tugged at his designer trousers as he twisted to face me. “I need you to add a couple of songs for the Baxter movie.”
I sighed heavily. “So that’s why you dragged me out last night. I knew you had an agenda. The score is almost complete.”
“Yeah, but I’m not talking about the music. I need a song. A hit song.”
“Oh, right. That’s easy,” I huffed sarcastically.
“It’s easy for you. You’re a fucking genius at this stuff,” he enthused.
“Save the ego stroking and give me specifics. How much time do I have?”
“You’ve got a few months before it has to be in production. I wanna release a big blowout, serious smash-hit love ballad, you know, something corny but cool…by July. The movie is scheduled for an August release. That’ll give us a month of pre-release hype. I want a new recording artist. Not an established big name. It’s been done over and over. Let’s go back to basics this time. Bring in a fresh face with a ton of attitude and sex appeal.” Seb paused for dramatic effect, then said, “I want Xena.”
“No.”
“What do you mean no?” He frowned.
“You heard me. My contract is for the score and a theme song. Find someone else to do the rest.”
I put the mug down and kicked at his leg until he scooted aside and gave me enough room to get out of bed. I scratched my nuts as I made my way to the adjoining bathroom. Of course, Seb followed. He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed and watched me pee. Or maybe he just wanted to examine my dick for clues.
“So, you fucked this guy and you don’t want to deal with the ex-lover situation,” he said after a long moment.
I met his gaze in the mirror and blinked. “Where do you come up with this stuff?” I bluffed.
“Number one, you’ve got dried cum on your stomach. That’s grade-A weird for a clean freak like you. Number two, you never stay in bed after six a.m. during the week, seven on the weekend. If you’re not sick, you did something or someone after you left the bar. Timing adds up to the hot guy with the guitar. Am I right or am I right?”
I rolled my eyes, then headed through a small alcove to the shower and turned on the water. I stepped out of the briefs I’d changed into when I got home and examined the dried mess on my stomach. Seb was right. About everything. But it still wasn’t his business.
“Does it matter?” I asked, tossing my black boxer briefs at him.
He caught them before they hit him in the face and glared at me. “What are you doing? I’m talking to you.”
“No, you’re dictating. I’m not writing you a love song, and I don’t want any part of jumpstarting a mildly talented singer’s career when we both know there are better options. Now, if you’ll excuse me…I need to wash the jizz off my belly.” I winked because I knew it would bug him, then stepped into the glass-and-marble spa-like enclosure.
My house was freaking beautiful if I did say so myself. It was a contemporary estate nestled in an exclusive section of Hollywood Hills. A long driveway lined with palm trees led to the two-story modern glass and stone house. I loved the clean lines and minimalist decor. But the real draw for me had always been the view. I’d specifically asked the architect to showcase the impressive cityscape from every window, and she’d more than delivered. The property’s elevation ensured a level of privacy that made it possible to have perks like floor-to-ceiling windows in my shower.