Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Don’t we all?” Taya adds.
“Right? He was helping employees who were dealing with an unruly guest and ended up being blasted for it.” After a moment, I end up telling Taya everything about the incident at Americana Land, trusting that she can keep it quiet because she’s proven herself to me.
As I finish the story, she hums thoughtfully. “That fucking sucks. But what about you and him? That’s the tea I want.”
“I kissed him,” I blurt out.
Taya pushes me, nearly knocking me over and definitely spilling my now-cold coffee over my hand. “Get out! You?”
I can feel the hot blush taking over my face as I lick the sweet but cold coffee from my finger. “He picked me up last night, and we went for a ride on his motorcycle.”
I drop that tidbit, knowing that Taya will be as shocked by that as the fact that I kissed Carson, and her mouth dropping open in an O reaffirms that.
“You. On a motorcycle. Hang on, let me imagine that.” She closes her eyes, one fingertip pressed to her temple. “Nope, can’t do it.”
It’s my turn to send a friendly kick her way. “It’s not that crazy.” Taya opens one eye, her perfectly drawn eyebrow lifting to tell me what she thinks of that. “It’s not!”
But if I’m honest, she’s right. I’m not the type to get close with a client, not the girl who hops on the back of a motorcycle to ride off into the night, and I’m definitely not the sort to kiss as the sun rises. But with Carson, maybe I am. Or could be?
“Well, look at you!” Taya shouts in surprise. “I don’t know what’s on your mind right now, but I like it. You look like you’re thinking about fucking.”
“Taya!”
“Bitch doth protest too mucheth,” she says in an awful British accent, butchering the Shakespearean quote. In her own voice, she adds, “You can’t tell me you’re not thinking of riding this man the way you rode his bike.”
“Motorcycle,” I correct automatically, the way Carson did to me.
It sets us off laughing because while I might’ve corrected what she called Carson’s motorcycle, I did not argue that I want to ride him, and we’re both fully aware of it.
“Have you told him yet?” Taya asks after we manage to fight off the giggles and settle down once more.
That’s a big question. Because she’s not asking about whether I’ve told him that I’m attracted to him or want to ‘ride him’, as Taya calls it. She’s asking the one question that only she would, because she knows more about me than anyone outside my family.
Because she knows my biggest secret.
“No. It’s not that serious yet. It came up and I sidestepped.” I do the same thing again with Taya, moving away from that potential landmine. “And I feel like we need to focus on the PR blitz we’re running. Actually, a brilliant thought just occurred to me. You can maybe help me with that. Do you know any up-and-coming artists who would love a chance to perform in a summer concert series?”
“How big we talking?” she asks, “because I’ve always got my eyes on kids trying to come up and steal my crown.” She adjusts her invisible crown, haughty as hell and well aware that they’ll pry her crown from her cold, dead hands.
“Big enough to draw a crowd in person and through live streaming, good with promos, and young enough to counter Abby’s army of rabid followers.” I’m laying my cards on the table with Taya, knowing she’s my best shot at a musical fairy godmother.
“Oh, I gotchu,” she says, snapping her fingers. “Jazmyn Starr is your girl. Make sure you spell it right when you search her up because her momma uses the alphabet with zero fucks.” Instead of letting me Google, Taya grabs her own phone and pulls up Jazmyn’s Instagram feed. “Look at this shit,” she tells me with a smile as she clicks a video thumbnail. “Perfect for you.”
The video that fills her screen is one of pure pop propaganda, a fusion of Madonna, Miley Cyrus, Britney Spears, and Taylor Swift. Jazmyn pays tribute to all the greats, but with a dark twist all her own. She shakes her head, her shaggy mullet flopping around her smoky eyes as she scream-sings.
Taya’s right. Jazmyn Starr is perfect. “Oh, my God, she’s it! You’re the best!”
Taya grins, a hand pressed to her chest as she soaks in the praise. “Of course I know what I’m doing. I can even get you an inside track with her agent. He brought her to the label and is looking for opportunities.”
“Really? Thank you!” I lean her way, giving her a side-hug squeeze.
“No biggie,” she says casually, but Taya doesn’t do favors for just anyone. She believes in not owing anyone for anything, so it’s a huge deal for her to do this for me. “So, what else are we doing today?” Taya asks.