Page 127 of Dirty Like Me
To make me lie in that bed I’d made.
Brody headed over and I looked from Devi to my sister, who were both watching me. Becca had just topped up my glass with whip. I sighed. “I’ll take it to go.”
I turned to Brody in defeat. I knew he was one of Jesse’s best friends, but since he was also his manager, I figured he was here to square up the business end of this deal. I’d already been paid for my weird-ass services, in full, and it was only fair that I return at least some of that money. Not to mention I’d broken my verbal contract with Jesse, so maybe there were more complicated ramifications to that.
“Am I gonna need a lawyer for this?”
“Don’t think so, Katie.” His eyes crinkled in a warm, friendly way. “How about I just give you a ride.”
I studied him. I didn’t know him well, but I was pretty sure even if Jesse was disappointed in how I ran out on him, he wouldn’t send someone to totally screw me over.
“Where?”
He moved to the door and opened it for me. “Wherever you’re going.”
◊◊◊
I gave Brody the address of where I’d just decided to go, then sat back in the passenger seat of his big-ass black truck and waited for him to lecture me, or grill me, or whatever the hell he’d come here to do.
He didn’t say a thing. He just drove, westbound, headed for the tree-lined streets and gated mansions of Shaughnessy.
“I’m sorry for leaving the tour,” I finally blurted when I couldn’t take the silence any longer. “I really am. It was a mistake.”
Brody looked at me sidelong, his deep blue eyes assessing me. All that look told me was that I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of a business negotiation with the man. It was the look of a man who had the patience, the persistence and the low tolerance level for other people’s bullshit that, in most situations, probably got him exactly what he set out to get.
“I mean… I think it was a mistake. Itwas. I’m pretty sure.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I just… I don’t know. I couldn’t handle it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You know, all the bullshit stuff in the media. Creepy dudes with telephoto lenses taking pictures of me with my family. People taking pictures of me in clubs with their cell phones and putting them online. Watching me. Judging me. Saying all kinds of shit that wasn’t even true.” I glanced at him guiltily. “And some that was. But, you know, it was pretty shitty to have to read about it.”
“Is that the truth? Or is that what you’re telling yourself to give yourself a way out?”
Ouch. “Shit. Are you always like this?”
He laughed. “Yep. According to your boyfriend, I’m a real asshole.”
The smile fell from my face. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“That so?”
I looked out the window. I took a breath, then took a fortifying sip of my coffee. I focused on the blue ridge of the mountains in the distance, erupting above the downtown skyline. Even though I was smack-dab in a world of hurt, it felt good to be home. I loved Vancouver. I grew up here. Everyone I loved lived here.
Even Jesse lived here, somewhere.
I watched the city roll by and thought,I don’t even know where he lives.
I glanced over at Brody, whose eyes were on the road.
“You knew them before they were famous, right? How did they handle it? Was it so easy for them to adapt to fame?”
“Easy?” he said. “Hell, no. We lost Seth at the end of the first tour.”
Seth. I knew that was the name of Dirty’s original rhythm guitarist; he played on the first album, Love Struck—the one that rocketed Dirty to fame.
