Page 58 of Dirty Like Me
“Uh-huh.” Yeah. I’d noticed that. Kinda hard not to.
“Well, it’s not an accident,” she said, as we stepped into yet another amazing boutique. “A lot of work goes into that image. You’re his girlfriend now. Your image is as important as his.”
By now, I knew that Maggie knew the relationship was fake, but she was cool enough not to mention it. Actually, everything about Maggie was cool. The girl was gorgeous, the kind of gorgeous you might not even notice at first glance, but by the second or third, you were riveted. She managed to pair a giant infinity scarf over an asymmetrical T-shirt with rolled-up boyfriend jeans and stiletto-heeled boots, and she walked in those boots like they didn’t have four-inch heels. She was a tiny thing, probably just over five feet out of those boots, but she had the kind of presence that told you she didn’t put up with bullshit. From anyone.
Which was undoubtedly how she’d survived so long co-managing the hottest band of rock ’n’ roll bad boys around.
“It must be interesting, you know, being the only woman on the team,” I said as I browsed through a rack of beautiful but exorbitantly-priced leggings. “I mean, besides Elle. You must see just about everything.” Yeah, I was digging, but I was acutely aware that this might be my only chance to get the dirt from Maggie. She and Brody were flying home to Vancouver tomorrow. Apparently they had their hands full managing Dirty, even when the band wasn’t touring or promoting a new album, so they couldn’t also handle the day-to-day of Jesse’s tour. They’d hired a tour manager and a bunch of other people for that.
“Just about,” Maggie said. “Didn’t see you coming, though.”
I glanced over the racks of clothes that stood between us.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said. She held up a pair of red skinny jeans, and even though I didn’t mind them, I wrinkled my nose without meaning to. I couldn’t help it; I had an aversion to this whole process. She put them back on the rack and kept searching. “In my eyes, Jesse is the most mysterious guy in the bunch,” she explained. “Hard to get a lock on, even in the years I’ve known him.”
“And how many years is that?”
“Like six or so. I came on after Love Struck, so I kind of missed all the debut album madness.” She came over to me with several dresses and began holding them up to me, one at a time. “I can tell you this. He’s not a bad guy. He’s also not a saint. If I had to pick one word to sum up Jesse Mayes, it would be… unpredictable.” She waved over a sales associate and handed her some dresses. “She’d love to try these on,” Maggie said, shooting me a look.
“And this,” I relented, handing the sales girl a skirt.
“Take you, for example.” I followed as Maggie continued browsing. “This whole girlfriend-for-hire thing.” She glanced my way like she was checking if it was okay with me that she called it what it was.
I smiled awkwardly.
“Never would’ve expected it,” she went on. “But that’s Jesse. You never know what he’s going to do next.” She pulled a sexy black mini dress from the rack and held it up to me at arm’s length. “You had a spark, though, you and Jesse. Brody and I both saw it. You know, when you offered him that cherry pie?”
“Oh. That.”
“Yeah, that,” Maggie laughed. “That’s why we wanted you for the video. That spark. Didn’t know it would ignite on screen like it did, but damn, it was hot.” She flipped through the dresses, throwing a few more over her arm. “You have this quality… How did Zane put it? ’The girl next door I really want to fuck.’” She rolled her eyes a little.
I blushed, not sure if I should feel flattered, but I laughed too. “And is he exactly what he seems?”
Maggie’s gray eyes clouded over. “Zane? Oh, he’s everything you see in the media and then some.” Her tone was breezy, if not a little condemning, but it was the first time I got the feeling she was filtering her comments. “He’s a lot of other things too, none of which are good news. He’s pretty much a nightmare for any woman.” She plucked one more dress from the rack and turned to me. “Really,” she said, “the only useful thing I can tell you about Zane Traynor is keep your distance.”
Interesting. But not a problem since he wasn’t coming on this tour.
Maggie off-loaded her pile of dresses to the sales girl and kept foraging. I followed, managing to pick out a pair of rocked-out jeans that were ripped to hell and cost a fortune.
“What about the new guys?”
“Friends of Jesse’s,” she said, “cherry-picked from other bands. They’re all in a really different place than the guys in Dirty, though, and I think that’s why he chose them. They’re all married, for one, and Raf has two kids. Letty’s wife is pregnant. So it’ll be a way different vibe than it is on a Dirty tour.”
“Which is?”
“Total madness,” she said, and laughed. “Lucky for you, you won’t have to deal with it.”
“Right.” Because once this tour was done, I was history.
Day one and I was already starting to feel a little regretful about that, even though I’d agreed to it. Hell, I’d madehimagree to it. But I just wanted things to be clear. I didn’t need my naïve self thinking this was more than it was, or weaving some kind of fantasy that it was going to continue beyond the tour.
The very last thing I needed was another broken heart.
I was here to do a job, and that was all. On that note, I tried to put more effort into the shopping thing. Maggie was just doing her job and we were running out of time. We were supposed to be at the concert venue in like an hour. And when I held up a sexy-as-sin champagne-pink dress and Maggie said, “Nuh. Jesse’s not into pink,” I was finally struck with inspiration.
When I held up a sweater and Maggie said, “Jesse prefers red,” I took it in blue.
When I held up a skirt and she mentioned, “Jesse hates plaid,” I took all the plaid I could find.
