I wandered over to the stack of magazines on the coffee table. These days, I was getting used to sharing Devi with her other life. Just one more hint from the universe that I needed to get a life of my own.
I sank onto the couch and flipped through a French Vogue. Max came to lay at my feet and I toed his soft fur with my sneaker. Devi was such a natural with people. She’d forgotten more hot men than I’d ever dreamed of meeting. The concept of not putting herself out there wouldn’t even cross her mind. But for me, the whole idea of exposing myself to rejection and failure made my stomach churn.
Still, she was right. I wasn’t about to meet guys sitting at home with my dog.
Not like I hadn’t tried.
“Okay? Oh. Okay…”
I glanced up at the odd tone in Devi’s voice. Bad news? Her eyes met mine, but I couldn’t quite read the look in them.
“Mm-hmm. Right. Okay… no, no problem. I totally understand.” I went back to my magazine while she finished up the conversation, which was brief and consisted of a lot of “Totally,” and “No problem,” and “Of course.”
I looked up again when Devi hung up. She was staring at her phone, like it might somehow explain to her what just happened. “Well. That was interesting.”
“A client?”
“No. Maggie Omura. You just met her. Kind of.”
“Oh.” Right. The pretty dark-haired waif with the hot guy and the even hotter guy. “Max liked her. Didn’t you, Max?” At the sound of his name, Max woofed contentedly.
Devi leaned back in her chair, assessing me. “You also just met Jesse Mayes, which you’re playing it awfully cool about.”
“Who?” I slurped whipped cream from the top of my coffee.
Devi sighed. “Honestly, Katie. Are you kidding me? Jesse Mayes?”
“What? That guy who just left?” I pretended to be enraptured with a deodorant ad in my magazine. “One of your models?”
“I wish. Jesse Mayes is only one of the hottest rock stars in the world and as an incredibly cool young person you should really know what I’m talking about.”
I assumed she added the “incredibly cool young person” comment since last week we got into an argument when she said my apartment looked like an old lady lived in it. And after I’d rigidly defended my music collection (on vinyl), my home phone (on a cord), and my TV (which didn’t exist), I realized she had a point, and maybe she was just scared of losing her best friend to spinsterhood at the age of twenty-four, which was probably a realistic fear.
I gave her my best stink eye anyway. “So?” Then I went back to my magazine, because in truth I had no idea who Jesse Mayes was. Other than the hottest guy in the known universe.
“So,” she said, “I thought you liked Dirty.”
“Dirty what?”
“The band. Dirty.”
“Oh. Who doesn’t?” I looked up again. “You mean, he’s in that band?” I knew music. Kind of prided myself on it. But people? People were Devi’s domain.
“He’s their lead guitarist. And he sings like a sexy beast.”
That, I could believe.
“He just put out a solo album and they’re shooting a music video in town. The woman they cast to star in it with him as his music video girlfriend bailed.” Devi tipped her pretty nose in the air. “Not from our agency, of course.”
“Of course,” I said, but she’d lost me somewhere around sexy beast. I was now trying to recall every Dirty song I knew, and imagining how Jesse Mayes would look playing guitar, and singing under a spotlight all covered in sweat.
“Anyway.” Devi sipped her coffee, eying me over the rim. “Long story short. I met Maggie at a party a while back. She works with Dirty as the assistant to their manager, you know, the dude with all the tattoos.”
Uh-huh. Hottie number two.
“She’s involved in a lot of their publicity and whatnot and naturally we’ve been in touch.”
“Naturally.”
“She called me up last night. They’re looking to recast, but they’re having some issues getting Mr. Rock Star to commit to what he wants. Maggie knew they’d be in the neighborhood today, so she took the opportunity to haul his ass in here and have him choose one of our girls.”
“That’ll be some lucky girl.” I kept flipping through the magazine, but I didn’t really see the pages. I was too busy trying to picture Jesse Mayes with his shirt off.
“Exactly. They just hired one of our models.”
“Well that’s good for you, right?”
“It’s great for me. Katie, pay attention.” Devi stood, came around her desk and took the Vogue from my hands. “They changed their minds. They just called to drop her.”
“Oh. Well, that’s shitty.” Why was Devi all up in my face about it?
She dropped the Vogue on the coffee table with a resounding splat. “They dropped her because they want you.”
CHAPTER TWO
Jesse
If there was one thing I hated about being a rock star, it was shooting music videos.
They were tedious as hell, or more specifically, limbo. It was all hurry up and wait, all fucking day.
They were also total bullshit. I’d spent half the morning shooting take after take after take. Fake singing with my guitar, fake singing with my shirt off, fake singing with my guitar with my shirt off. And fake was a total fucking turn off.
I’d spent the rest of the morning on my phone in one of Brody’s spare bedrooms while the wardrobe girls dressed me up like a damn doll. Maggie had even gotten in on it, popping up between a couple of wardrobe racks with a pair of jeans that looked exactly like every other pair I’d tried on.
Fuck it.
I dropped the jeans I was wearing, and this time let my underwear go along with them.
