Page 37 of Hot Mess
He was ridiculously talented—I’d now listened to all three of the Penny Pushers’ albums, and holy hell, hisvoice. All gritty and rough… and fucking beautiful. Not only was he their lead singer, but he played lead guitar, and he’d written most of the Penny Pushers’ songs. Including my favorite, “Gasoline,” which totally rocked.
He was overwhelmingly good-looking.
He was definitely famous, though maybe not overwhelmingly so. Like according to some fan sites I’d poked through, he could still be spotted on the streets of Vancouver, doing such regular-person things as buying groceries.
And he came up to me the other night in the rain.
Well, he came up to Daniella.
I knew he was super drunk. I could smell the booze on him.
He thought I was my sister… And yet, I just couldn’t get his face out of my head.
That broken look.
Thoseeyes.
“Danica!” Jolie burst through my office door, and I jumped. She shut the door behind herself and choked out one word. “Unicorn.”
“What?” I watched her bang on her chest with her fist, not like she was actually choking, but like she was trying to restart her heart or something. “It sounded like you saidunicorn.”
“Uni-corn,” my cousin wheezed. “Out there. In here. In the…” She gestured wildly toward my office window.
And there stood Ashley Player.
In our office.
I gawked at him—like I was looking at my laptop screen or something, instead of right through my window into the reception area.
It was him.
In the flesh.
I ducked slightly; a reflex.
But he wasn’t looking at me. He was standing in front of Jolie’s desk, with his back to it, looking out the front windows onto the street.
Holy shit.
“Tell me that’s not some lucky bitch’s unicorn,” Jolie said, hiding beside the window as she peeked out at him.
And now I understood.
Jolie had this ranking system for men. At the very top of the male food chain, according to her, was the elusive and majestic unicorn. The possibly unattainable magic-man, that every girl, if she was so lucky, might cross paths with once in her life.
I peeked at Ashley Player.
Unicorn, indeed…
Then I shook it off. What were we, twelve?
I closed my laptop and stood up. My knees actually quivered a bit. “That’s Ashley Player,” I informed her, my voice wavering. I cleared my throat.
“Dear God,” Jolie squeaked, “is he a client?” I was pretty sure she hadn’t blinked yet, like she was afraid to wash away the image of him that was scorched onto her eyeballs.
“Actually, he’s a rock star,” I said, and Jolie looked at me like her brain had exploded.
“Okay, my brain just exploded. You better deal with this before Madeleine gets in.”
