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)
I paused at the bottom of the driveway to stuff my cell into my pocket when I noticed Charlie next to my car, posing like a superhero in training with his hands on his hips.
“How did it go?” Charlie beamed.
I scoffed. “Peachy fucking keen. Later, dude.”
He chased me to the driver’s side and flattened himself against the door. “Wait! What happened?”
“Let’s just say it didn’t work out.” I gestured meaningfully, then added, “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Charlie shook his head vigorously and spread his arms wide. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what you did. You must have done something or said something. You owe me an explanation. By the way, your car is filthy. I’m sending you the dry-cleaning bill for this shirt.”
I snorted in disbelief. For a little guy, he had big balls and a lot of nerve. “I don’t owe you shit. You, however, owe me the last hour of my life back. Let’s make that two hours. I’m charging you for gas money and the beauty rest you interrupted.”
Charlie gasped in outrage. “You needed a job. Alphabetizing records has to be the cushiest deal ever. How could you possibly blow it?”
“Look, thanks for thinking of me, Charlie, but I don’t need your so-called help and I don’t want your charity. You aren’t my friend. You aren’t my fairy gay guy either. Now if you’ll excuse me.” I picked him up like a toy doll and set him a few feet away before opening the car door.
“Fairy gaymother,” he corrected.
“Whatever. Stay out of my life. Stay out of my business. I know something else is going on here, but I’m not participating in this BS. Don’t call me, don’t email me, and don’t talk to me in the club. Try me and I’ll have you banned for harassment. Got it?”
I didn’t wait for his reply. I put my sunglasses on my nose, James Dean-style, and then climbed behind the wheel of the battered yellow Corolla like a badass. The engine sputtered a couple of times before it revved to life, ruining the vibe. But I pretended it was part of my mystique as I rolled down the window, flashed a peace sign, and drove away.
4
Gray
I waited in the entryway, with my arms crossed. I had to nab Charlie before he escaped, and I knew from experience he was a slippery one.
“What the hell just happened here?”
Charlie closed the front door with a start. He widened his eyes and shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You do know,” I corrected. “Your dad obviously brought you into this. Explain.”
“Come on, Gray. I’m sure you can guess. He’s in Toronto and he’s freaking out about that publicity angle for the Baxter movie. You know how he gets. He can’t let anything go.”
“So he asked you to interfere.”
“He asked me to help.” Charlie copied my pose and cocked his head in a gesture that instantly reminded me of the little boy who’d followed me around when he was two years old. “He wanted me to talk to Justin at Vibes, but I have zero time for clubbing. I’m stressed out of my mind with the project I’m working on for my Creative Management Course and—”
“Charlie…” I tapped my foot and gave him my best “Quit the BS” look.
“I thought I could kill two birds with one stone. Get Justin here to meet you so you could ask him about the song yourself. I thought once he saw the studio and heard my spiel about representing his band, which you’ll be thrilled to know ties in with my master’s course…he’d realize his cup runneth over. You can’t sign up for this much good luck at once!”
I let out a deep sigh. “Char, you can’t force people to do what you want them to do.”
“You’re telling me. You and Dad are the most uncooperative duo ever. I’m going to have gray hair before I’m thirty at this rate,” he huffed theatrically. “And before you say anything, I’m not having a Parent Trap moment. I’m trying to fulfill my father’s request, work on my master’s project, and help a struggling artist all at once. I’m working harder than the button on my skinny jeans, and it wouldn’t hurt for someone somewhere to give me a little slack!”
“Don’t get dramatic on me,” I warned, pointing a parental finger at his chest.
“I am not dramatic. I’m at my wit’s end! I’ve been commissioned to save the world, and it is not easy. What could possibly be so hard about asking Justin to—gasp!” Charlie put his hand over his mouth. “You like him.”
He stepped backward, then sank theatrically onto the uncomfortable bench in the entry.
“It’s not like that,” I lied.
Charlie ignored me. “This is…different, but good. I think. I mean, he’s only a little older than me, but that’s okay. Dad isn’t going to like this. He’s all about having fun, but you’re the one he loves.”