Knox

Me: Tell them whatever you want. You’re in charge.

I completely spaced mentioning the pictures of us leaving the club together to her. So much shit was going on that it slipped my mind.

When Thomas came in bitching about the model being MIA, I was close to losing it. My hands were shaking, my mind going nuts over the thought of having to cancel the entire shoot after spending so much money on booking everyone. I’m glad I was in the other room because I almost fell over in shock when Thomas said Libby would step in.

I could tell she wasn’t completely sold on the idea, and there was no way she would’ve done it if she wasn’t working for me, so I texted my personal shopper and told her to find Libby the perfect bag. I don’t know why I bought her the purse, but it was the best thank you her for stepping out of her comfort zone and saving my ass I could think of.

Libby: Got it.

I hit reply …but I’m not sure what to say back.

Should I even respond?

I’m stretched out on the sheets of my California King bed, the ceiling fan on above me, and listening to the TV in the background. It’s on some reality show about finding the love of your life or some shit. I laugh to myself. No one ever finds the love of their lives – especially on a damn TV show.

Me: Do you know …

I delete that.

Me: Any plans tonight?

I backspace that.

Me: So what are you up to?

I hesitate. Will she think it’s weird if I ask that?

I delete it when I come up with a better idea.

Me: What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?

I toss my phone down next to me and rest my head on the pillow until she responds.

Libby: We put everything in your phone, remember?

Me: Yes, but I’m too lazy to look it up right now.

And I want to talk to her.

Libby: Tour meeting tomorrow at 9 AM.

Me: Cancel it. I’m not going.

Libby: You’ve got to be kidding me?

Me: Nope.

Libby: You’re going. I don’t care if I have to break into your house and drag you out of bed. And don’t forget about getting me a key made, btw.

Me: You threatened to come and drag me out of bed. You can’t expect me to give you a key now.

I wait a few seconds and no reply. I reread my last text, wondering if I said something wrong. I even held back my urge to fuck with her and say I’d rather she climb into my bed than drag me out of it.

I text her again, blaming it on my boredom.

Me: Calm down, killer. I’m only fucking with you. I’m not cancelling.

This meeting is too big of a deal to cancel. Tours are where I make the most money.

My phone beeps.

Libby: Fucking with me seems to be your favorite past time. I’ll see you in the morning. Be ready to go. Traffic is most likely going to be a bitch.

Fucking her would actually be my favorite past time … if I had the chance.

Me: Yes ma’am. See you in the morning.

I click off her message and hit Thomas’ name.

Me: Is Libby coming with me on tour?

Thomas: Undecided. I thought we’d talk about it tomorrow.

Me: I think it’s a good idea. She seems to know what she’s doing and keeps me on track.

Thomas: Don’t try to be slick with her. She has people that will destroy you if you touch her. I’m not joking.

Whoa … not the response I was expecting. She has people that will destroy me? I need to question my little assistant more and find out what I’m dealing with. Maybe sunshine has a little bit more of a cloudy edge to her.

I’m elated for this tour and counting down the days until I leave. It’ll be a breath of fresh air and nice to get out of the city for a while. It clears my mind, and I do my best writing on my tour bus. Performing for my fans is what moves me, what drives me, and makes me the happiest. I have a purpose for a few hours.

I email the producer and tell him to send me the unedited video so I can work on it.

I can’t wait to see it.