Scrolling through a list of contacts, I’m looking for anything that might jump out at me. Being an entertainment lawyer is part talent scout and part having the balls to bet big.
Rob’s sent me a list a mile long of demos for me to listen to. New people who just need to be put in contact with the right people. I hit download on a couple. Like hell I was going to let The Dick run my department.
I’m knee deep in demos when I notice Cash has come up next to me.
“Planning world domination?”
“That’s what I do on the weekends, this is much bigger.” Another quick go around with my iPhone and my inbox and I try to figure out some sort of game plan.
“Top secret, I take it?” Cash tries to look at my phone, and I pull it back out of instinct. In my job, you don’t share information unless you want to watch Richard the Dick steal your clients.
“Sorry.” I turn off my cell phone and slide it back into my back pocket. It’s always been my problem—at least that’s what Tanner would say. This is supposed to be our day. All I wanted this morning was more time with him, before we both went our separate ways.
No phones allowed—should have made that rule when we first started out. I should have anticipated that this would happen. When I first started out at Briggs, Meyers, & Associates, my mother would confiscate my cell phone the moment I was ever with her or my family.
Cash gives a casual shrug and matches my stance at the rail. He’s close enough that I want to lean on him. Tug his sculpted arms around me and forget that I have a job to do. “You love what you do?”
“I do.” To keep my hands to myself, I pull my cap further down on my head. It was something that Tanner could never understand—I love my job. Sure, he could write songs all the time or stage our dates at whatever bar he was playing, but one look at a work email, much less a call, and he’d be upset for the rest of the evening.
“Hey,” Cash says, hooking an arm around me he pulls me close tucking me under his chin. It’s the first time in a long time that I feel safe to just let go. A million memories from last night play on through my head and I want to try a million more things. I take a deep breath, inhaling the clean scent of his shirt and the sharp tang of his aftershave. He tips my hat back so he can look into my face. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it’s damn sexy.”
“Just wait until you hear my contract negotiation skills.”
He laughs and drops a quick kiss onto my lips. I want it to go on, but he pulls away just as fast. All of my nerves are finely tuned to him. I wonder if he feels the same way. “I draw some hard lines. Beware, counselor.”
“Hmmm, you’re outta your league my friend.”
“Oh, really?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“For what?”
“Not making a big deal about my work.”
“Not saying I’m not gonna make you pay for it.”
“Really.”
“Yup you’re gonna come with me tonight.” Knowing Cash it won’t be just once, either. Not complaining.
“Somewhere special?”
“Special to me.”
“Okay.”
“Plus, I’d be a certifiable asshole if I said you couldn’t answer your phone after I ran out on you for that work emergency.”
“It’s your baby. You love it.” Cash shrugs and looks out at the track. “Something up? Anything you want to talk about?” Maybe that’s stepping over a line, but we’re friends—we’re going out again tonight. Cash can open up to me if he wants.
“Stupid stuff, always happens around the opening of a new club.”
“What sort of stupid stuff?” He doesn’t answer, and I give him a playful shove. He takes it with a smile. I shift my position so that I’m leaning back against the railing. “Come on, what sort of stupid stuff.”
“Doesn’t matter. Ryder, Jackson and them—they gotta look to the future and The Library.”
“So, what are your plans for the future?” That was about as smooth as sandpaper. Well done, Savannah.
Cash gives me one of his patented shrugs. This time I refuse to let him off the hook. He doesn’t have to tell me about his fights with his friends, but I need something. I’m skipping work. I’m putting everything on the line here. One thing could give me hope that he wants more than just a couple of quickies when he feels like it.
“Come on, what does Cash Gardner want to do with his life?”
“Make drinks, a shit ton of money, and have a great time doing it,” he says with so much bravado that I believe him even if I want to smack him upside the head. He leans in and gives me a lingering kiss. “Be happy.” The kiss lingers, and I bring my hand up to hold him in place. It’s a trick to lull him into a false sense of security. Make him think he’s got the upper hand.
And when I let him go, I strike.