8
I toss back some of beer number two before biting into a chunk of beef from my giant burger. I balked when the bartender served the two burgers with potato chips. The thing could have its own zip code it’s so big. At least a solid six inches high, with a wedge pickle and long strips of bacon sticking out the sides. Definitely a thing of beauty, but finishing the damn thing will be a task and a half. Still, I’m up for the challenge.
Cheers Pub is tucked into a nondescript street in Milan. Half of the street seems to cater to lower-rent apartments or condos, and the other half has been gentrified. If I had to guess, it will only look more modern as time passes. The nicer buildings have new paint, flower boxes in the windows with ornate wrought iron encasements, whereas the apartments directly across the street definitely need a bit of resurfacing.
The bar, however, could easily fit in with an average neighborhood in Anywhere, America. They definitely have their Americanisms down pat. Sure, there are some things in Italian, but most everything seems to cater to the American shtick, even the name of the place, Cheers, like the old TV show my parents used to watch when I was a kid. It feels familiar and comfortable. Exactly what I need after the week we’ve had and the conversation between Sky and me.
The floors are wooden slats, as are the bar, tables, and stools. Bo and I are sitting at the bar in front of the brass tanks aptly boasting “Tank Beer” from a brewery called Pilsner Urquell. The beer is a blond lager from the Czech Republic. I find it oddly interesting that the pub’s most common beer on tap or tank is a lager from a country other than its own. Then again, what do I know? I like beer. Mostly craft brews. I’m sure if I told my father about the beer he’d know every detail: who made it, what the taste should be like, and what would be best to eat with it. He’s kind of a beer snob, though he prefers the term guru.
“All right, you’ve had your beer; you’ve got your burger and your brother’s ear. I think those fill the three-Bs requirement.”
I frown. “What do you mean, the three Bs?”
Bo smirks. “Dude. Anytime you want to talk about something weighing down your mind, you always ask for one of your brothers to go out and have burgers and beer. Three Bs.”
I chuckle, then take a healthy pull from my pilsner. “Is that right?”
Bo shrugs and turns to the side, resting a hand on his inner thigh as he widens his legs, getting more comfortable. He rests his left elbow on the bar and leans his weight into it. “Come on, tell me what happened with Skyler. Did you screw it up?”
“You’re assuming I screwed it up already?” I scoff.
“Man, I don’t know. You’re surly, and you look like someone snuck up behind you and screamed boo in your ear, sending you jumping out of your chair. What am I supposed to think?”
I rub at my temples and look at my enormous burger. We should have halved it, but that isn’t manly. Besides, Bo can pack away a lot of food. I think all the fucking he does burns off all the calories. Although he does hit the gym as often as I do.
“Parker, come on. Lay it on me, man, and I’ll see if I can help.”
I run my thumb up and down the glass, watching the condensation slip away. “As I told you, I gave Skyler the important parts about Kayla and how she screwed me over.”
He nods. “And?”
“And nothing. She’d said I was holding back. Not telling her why I was so against the concept of a relationship in the beginning. So I told her.”
“And now?”
“I’m all in, brother. Scared as fuck. Giving it my best, but I can’t say I’m good at it. I don’t know the right things to say half the time. And then of course, her jealousy toward Sophie, mine toward her costar, Rick.” I sigh and twist my glass left and right in order to keep my hands busy.
“Onion breath? I’d imagine that alone takes him off any potential attraction lists regardless of how he looks.”
“Breath is easy to fix, man.”
“True enough, but a woman never forgets that shit.”
“I guess.” I pop a chip into my mouth and think about what’s really bothering me. “Then there’s the bit about her mentioning getting a place in Boston.”
Bo’s eyes widen. “Say what?”
“Yeah.” I swallow down another large dose of beer, needing the warmth in my gut.
“Her moving to Beantown is a lot heavier than being exclusive and seeing one another on the fly like you are now.” Bo nails it.
I nod. “Don’t I know it.”
“Shit.”
“Yep.”
“Fuck.”
“You could say that again,” I mutter.
“What do you think about her moving to Boston? Gut reaction.” His intense gaze is critical, analyzing my every response.
I grin and give him the side-eye. “It would be a whole lot easier to get into her panties more often.”
Bo laughs heartily. “I hear that. What’s your second thought?”
I purse my lips, mulling it over. “It would be nice. Having her close. Being able to meet up for dinner and shit. Take her out. Dinners with the family. With you guys. It’s a life I’d always thought I’d have.”
“Is it a life you want?” he says, digging.
“With Sky? Yeah, but she’s also a celebrity, man. There’s no normal for us. Never will be. The paparazzi are always going to be down our throats.”
“But you’ve got protection for that.” He frowns, waiting for my counter excuse like the good friend he is. Helping me work out my shit.
“Yeah, the Van Dykens are great. Still, what happens down the road when we have kids—”
Bo lifts up his hands in front of me, palms facing out. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back the truck up. Did you say kids?”
I scrub my face and look his way. “Yeah, man. I did. Want ’em someday. Don’t you?”
Bo plucks at his goatee and sighs. “Never thought much about it, truthfully. Not sure I have the fatherhood gene inside me. Never had one to compare to except Pops. My father left long before I could walk. Grandfather wasn’t in the picture neither.”
“Sorry, brother.”
“Nuthin’ to be sorry about. You can’t miss what you never had. And my mother and sisters took good care of me. Taught me everything I need to know about women.” He grins salaciously.
I frown, ignoring his quip. “I always imagined one day I’d have the house, picket fence, pretty wife, two kids and a dog, barbecues on the back patio, the whole nine. I turn thirty this year, and time is creeping up on me.”
“You’re not old, brother. Relax. Give yourself and this thing with Sky a little time. Let it unfold naturally, you feel me?”
I inhale a full breath, then let it out before raising my now-empty glass to the bartender. “When she mentioned uprooting her life, for me . . .” I shake my head. “No woman has ever put me first like that. And she’s Skyler freakin’ Paige. My dream girl. The woman I always compared women to. The idea of her, anyway. And then I meet the real thing, and she’s so much more. Fuck, man, I don’t know. Skyler’s the real deal.”
Bo lifts his chin. “I feel ya, but remember, you thought that about Kayla, and the bitch fucked you over. This is the first woman you’ve allowed in since her. How’s about you not worry so much about the future and appreciate what you’ve got right now. You feed this thing with Skyler, and it will grow into something permanent. Maybe she’s your picket fence, maybe not. Only time will tell. Did she say she was packing her shit and moving out next week?”
I chuckle at the exasperation in Bo’s voice. “Nah, man, she dropped the bomb and then told me to chew on it.”
He laughs. “I like her. Funny chick.”
“She can be. And beautiful, and fuckhot in the sack, sweet, charming, thoughtful, good with her mouth . . .” I grin.
“Hoo-boy!” Bo fans his face and winks. “Keeper for sure.”
“Yeah. Keeper.”
“Then I say you stick with that. Give it the time it needs, enjoying the hell out of every minute. If things get heavy again, you talk to me or Royce, and we’ll set your ass straight.”
I lift my fist, and Bo bumps it with his own. “Another beer?” I say.
“Fuck yes. Dying of thirst over here.”
I laugh and lift up my glass and point to Bo’s this time. The bartender nods and sets about getting our refills.
“Thanks, Bo.”
“I’ll put your shit in check anytime. Now . . . let’s back up and go into detail on the part you mentioned where Skyler was good with her mouth. I’d like to hear more about that.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
He doesn’t see the punch to the shoulder coming, but he feels it. I’ll bet it’s white hot against his bicep too.
“Deserved,” I growl as he rubs at his arm.
“Too true,” he admits without shame.
“Yo, brother!” Royce answers his cell phone in his deep rumble, but it’s his smiling face I’m looking forward to. “Since when do you FaceTime?”
I grin into the screen. “Skyler taught me its benefits.”
He runs a hand over his bald head and tilts it as if he’s checking himself out. “I’ll just bet she did.”
“Anyway . . . I’m calling because your text said it was urgent. What’s going on?”
Royce purses his full lips. “Press been calling day and night, man. Blowin’ up the IG offices and pissing our girl off. We need to do something about the statement that went out about you and Skyler last week.”
I frown. “I’m sorry it’s hitting you guys back home. I’m not sure what the best plan is. I’ve been focused on this project and, uh, other things. Hadn’t realized you guys were taking the heat back home.”
“Nuthin’ I can’t handle, but it would be nice to nip this thing in the bud, sooner rather than later.”
“Yeah, I can see that. I’ll call Tracey, Sky’s agent, and find out what she thinks is best. What have you been saying to them so far?”
He shakes his head. “No comment. Hanging up the second they speak. Still they’re like vultures on a carcass. They keep pecking until they get what they want.”
I nod. “Okay. I’ll call her after we’re done. How’s everything else?”
“Right as rain. I’ve consulted on a few more financial things with Sophie, which has given us a nice payout. Closed a couple of easy cases. Even got Wendy looking into some and giving her perspective. However, I think I’ll be traveling the next project with you and having Bogey hold down the fort.”
“Yeah? What’s next? You mentioned something about San Francisco?”
He nods and rests his head against the back of his black leather chair. “Financial company. CEO needs help finding a mate.”
“A mate? Does she have someone in mind? Usually when we’re matchmaking it’s because the woman wants help getting the attention of someone she already has a crush on. Is that the case?”
“Nope.” Royce’s inflection accentuates the p sound in nope.
I rub at my eyebrows, running my thumb and forefinger across the building tension I’m feeling. “What am I missing?”
“Not a thing. The woman’s beautiful, intelligent, with a wicked-hot body, and wants us to find her a man. Says she’s tired of dating narcissistic, gold-digging, wannabe players. I’m helping her set up her profile now. We’re going to rock this old school. Like the Million Dollar Matchmaker show. You seen it?”
I blink a few times, trying to determine if I’m in a dream or real life. “Did you just ask me if I watch a reality TV program? The only shit I watch on TV is sports, and half the time, even that’s on DVR.”
“Patti Stanger, she’s the shit. She’s got her matchmaking on lock.”
I close my eyes and open them again, focusing on his smiling face. “I’ll take your word for it. What does this have to do with our client?”
He runs a hand down his blue tie, his onyx cufflinks a nice touch against his white dress shirt and black suit. “I want to try my hand at the matchmaking end of things. We haven’t done a cold matchup before, and I plan to dig into this one.”
I purse my lips and smile as his eyes flit from one side to the other; he’s not looking at me directly. He coughs into his hand and clears his throat.
“Why?”
He frowns, his eyebrows black against his dark-chocolate skin. “Last I checked, we owned this business together, and I didn’t need a reason to want to work a client.” His tone is argumentative and a bit more forceful than he’d normally have reason to use. There’s something he’s not telling me.
I smile wide. “No reason needed, I just wanted one. Who’s the client?” I prod.
He compresses his lips into a flat line. “Rochelle Renner.”
“And what does Ms. Renner look like?”
Royce narrows his gaze at the camera. “Does it matter?”
I smile, knowing I’m goading him, and I don’t care. He’s my brother; it’s my job. “Not sure. Just want to know what we’ll be working with.”
Royce nonchalantly sets the phone down against something so I can see his entire chest from his waist up and flips open a file before pulling out a five-by-seven image. He turns the image to the camera.
I start laughing instantly.
“Brother . . . ,” I gasp, staring at one of the hottest black chicks I’ve seen since I laid eyes on Halle Berry in Swordfish, a movie Roy made me watch. And he made me watch it because she was in it, and you get a full view of the woman’s rack. Which is sweet.
“Don’t you ‘brother’ me. Just because our client is a fine-ass sister—”
“Uh-huh.” I shake my head. “If you want to play it cool and not let on the real reason you’re interested, I’ll leave it at that. However, I’m guessing the next suggestion you’re gonna make is you should be matched with her?” I smirk.
Royce’s face goes completely blank. “I’m not even going to dignify your question with a response. Finish what you gotta do over in Milan and get your ass back so we can head to Cali.”
I shake my head. “No can do. I’m visiting Sky on my way back. At least two days. Need them, man. I’ll head back home on Wednesday, but give me two days.”
He purses his lips as if he’s going to kiss the screen, but I know it’s because he’s got one helluva pucker. “It’s all good. Take your days. Send Bo back. I’ve got to load him up on work or he’ll be flirting with Wendy the entire time we’re on the West Coast.”
I chuckle. “True dat. Which means, if he’s not busy, Sir Mick will be visiting, and I really don’t want to come back to find Bo strung up by his tighty-whities.”
“Mm-hmm. You call your girl’s agent. Find out what approach we should take. Want this to be easy on you and Sky, but we need to get them to lay off IG.”
“I agree. I’ll hit’cha back later, yeah?”
Royce offers a chin lift and a thoughtful “Peace” before hanging up.
I hang up and hit the button for Tracey. It rings a few times before an exasperated “Triumph Talent Agency, this is Tracey” comes over the connection.
“Hi, Tracey, it’s Parker Ellis.”
“Oh hi. Sorry about the rushed intro. I’m down my assistant today, the day the calls go crazy.”
“Murphy’s Law.”
“Yeah. What can I do for you?”
“Actually, I need your advice. The press is hounding IG offices, and it’s starting to hurt my team workwise. The release went out, but the media’s still rabid, and I’m not there to run interference.”
“I see. I told Sky about this, but she didn’t listen. Told me you needed your privacy.”
“Told her about what?”
“You guys need to do a live interview. Together. Side by side so the press can get their fifteen minutes, screen grabs, video clips, etc. and leave you alone for a while. At least until one of you does something new to grab their attention.”
“And Sky didn’t want to?”
“No. She said your relationship is new and she didn’t want to add to the pressure that goes with dating a celebrity, but frankly, Parker, it’s one of the only ways to get them off your back. You want to have some freedom, give them something to run away with.”
I mull over her idea. “How would we best go about that? I’m coming there on Sunday night and will be hanging out on her movie set Monday and Tuesday.”
“Really? It’s easy then. Before you enter through the back of the set, walk to the front and have her meet you. Or enter together. The press will go nuts. They’ll get some pictures of the two of you together. I’ll set up a quick lunch interview with a few of the ones I trust most. I say most because you can never trust any of them completely.”
“I learned that after the People piece.” The words come out jilted and as jaded as I feel.
“I’ll meet you guys at the set, run interference, and give you a Speaking to the Press 101 crash course of things to say and not to say, and how to avoid answering questions you don’t want to answer. Like, Are you in love with Skyler?” Her voice is flat, devoid of emotion, and it jolts me off balance.
My throat instantly goes dry, and I reach for the bottle of water on my side table. “Are you, um, asking me right now?” I tug at the suddenly too-tight collar of my shirt.
She cackles into the phone, and I almost have to pull it away. “Oh my, it would have been fun to see your face right then. I can tell by your hesitation, that is a question you would like to avoid answering.”
“Fuck yes.” I clear my throat while she continues to laugh.
“Don’t worry, Parker. I take care of Sky. She’s my number-one priority. Has been for years and will continue to be for years to come. Now that you’re in the picture, I’ll be looking out for you as well. I won’t let anything happen. Have your assistant tell me when you’re planning to visit the set, and I’ll coordinate the rest.”
“All right. Thank you, Tracey. I appreciate it. And will you talk to Skyler about what we discussed?”
“You mean you don’t want to be the bearer of bad news? Sky hates talking to the press about her personal life. It’s a pet peeve of hers but a necessary evil in the business.”
“Um, no,” I state with no shame whatsoever. Sky and I already had a pretty deep conversation earlier. I don’t want to add to it by telling her we need to have a heart-to-heart with the press so they leave my business and staff alone.
“Okay, I’ve got this.”
“I owe you one, Tracey.”
“No, you don’t. Take care of my girl and don’t turn out to be a douchebag, and we’ll be aces.”
Apparently Tracey Wilson, agent extraordinaire, does not pull any punches, going right for the kill.
“I don’t intend to hurt Skyler. She means something to me, Tracey. More and more every day.”
“Yeah, I see it in the way she talks about you, how her face lights up, and she gets this faraway, dreamy look in her eyes. She used to do the same thing when she spoke of Johan, and he broke her heart. Let’s shoot for keeping a happy look on my best friend’s face and we’ll be good to go. Now, I’ve got an enormous amount of work with no assistant, so I’m going to let you go.”
I chuckle awkwardly, not knowing how to take all the information she’s shared. “See you soon. And good luck.”
She sighs heavily. “Without her, I’m going to need it. See you Monday, Parker.”
“Thanks again.”
“No problem. Bye.” She hangs up, and I stand up and head to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
Tomorrow’s the show, and I’m hoping everything falls into place for our client. T-Bone may be a misguided wannabe pioneer of women’s empowerment through body-fitting lingerie, but he genuinely means well. Initially he went about it the wrong way. Bo and I have ironed out the issues, and I’m looking forward to seeing everyone’s hard work unfold at the show tomorrow.
I hit the bathroom, brush my teeth, visit the facilities, pull back the comforter, and slide naked into bed. The cool sheets have me shivering for a moment before I grab my phone and pull up the messages screen.
I notice I’ve got a video text from Skyler. I click on it and see her beautiful face. She’s wearing full makeup, her hair hidden by a long black wig. She’s wearing some type of weird armor, which reminds me of Wonder Woman’s bralike corset, only this one is black and silver.
“Hi, pretty boy. Just wanted to say I won’t be able to chat with you tonight, my afternoon. The director is on a tear about us being a day behind schedule on some of the scenes, so we really need to nail them tonight. No breaks all around except to grab a bite in between. Since I don’t know when that will be, I wanted to say sleep well, and I can’t wait to see you on Sunday! I’m having Rachel pick you up at the airport. She’s convinced you’ll need coverage in case the paps catch wind of your arrival. I told her she was nutty, but . . .” She shrugs, and it looks like her armor lifts with her. I chuckle under my breath, not wanting to miss a moment of her words to me. “. . . better safe than sorry. I’ll see you soon. Dream of me!” She ends the video with an air kiss, only in this one I can see her lips moving into a perfect bow. She smiles wide and winks before the video stops.
Damn, I’m one lucky man.
I roll over onto my stomach and imagine Skyler in that outfit kicking the ass of some pretend, futuristic villain. I fall asleep smiling.