“What? Why?”
“For now, he won’t be doing any of those things he was before,” I informed him. “There won’t be any clubbing, he won’t be flying down to LA for the weekend, and there won’t be any parties here at all. Depending on what he wants, we could have some small gatherings, like ten people max, but certainly he won’t need you, along with Marisol and Callie, for just day-to-day. I also have four maids who will alternate days—two on, two off—to make sure that the place stays clean at all times.”
“So who is actually on staff now?”
“At the moment it’s you, Isai, Tony, and Cliff, the four maids I kept who actually passed the background check, and Marisol and Callie. I’m also hiring a full-time groundskeeper who can call in additional help with gardening and landscaping. I also want a maintenance company on call to deal with everything, from the washing machine breaking down to a backed-up sink.”
“I can’t believe you let everyone go.”
Clearly, he was hung up there. “Yes.”
“But he needs a driver.”
I was going to say something snarky like, “Anyone with a driver’s license can drive him,” but that was rude, so I countered instead with, “The bodyguards can drive him wherever he needs to go.”
“We had a lot of maids.”
“Yes,” I agreed, because what was the point of bringing that up?
“What about his masseuse and his Pilates instructor and his yoga teacher?”
I didn’t even answer.
“And his personal trainer.”
“I have a new one coming. He’s going to work with Marisol on strength training through a strict regimen of food and exercise. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
“But he already has a nutritionist and a dietician,” he apprised me.
“And as far as I can tell, neither of them has helped him. And he slept with both of them, according to Cliff.”
“Yes, but––”
“You do realize that all of this is done already, right?” I asked him. “Everyone I’ve laid off is not coming back. I never change my mind.”
He cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Barnes, but how do you know you’re right? Who gave you permission to do all this? To make all these changes?”
“Mr. Cox did.”
“No, I understand that, but Mr. Cox is also overstepping if he thinks that—”
“Mr. Madison’s life is a mess, and fixing it starts with the physical piece of securing his home and making sure it’s a sanctuary. It has to be safe for him in all ways, and up to this point, none of you have been able to provide that.”
“I—”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Yes, but again, I have to point out that Mr. Madison is a grown man of twenty-six. If he wants you out tomorrow morning, he can call the cops and have you removed.”
“If Mr. Madison tries to have me removed, Mr. Cox will go ahead and set up a conservatorship for him,” I explained. “He’s ready to go to court and put that into motion, and he has all the documentation he needs to proceed.”
Brent looked much younger than his own thirty-two years right then. Startled, his mouth fell open as he stared at me with wide eyes. “He can’t do that.”
“Actually, he can do that and will petition the court to make him not only what they call conservator of the person but also conservator of the estate.”
“I—how?”
“Because Nick’s nearly in breach of contract with his record label. Did you know that?”
“No, I…I didn’t know that,” he said, his face scrunching up.
Brent Donovan was handsome if fragile, delicate-looking men did it for you. He was lithe and lean with features that belonged in paintings, flawless, graceful perfection. His golden hair and perfect bow of a mouth were, I was certain, the stuff of dreams to many. And while I was as enamored of beauty as the next guy, there was nothing about Brent I found even remotely appealing. He looked breakable, and that didn’t work for me.
“Think of it like this,” I explained to him. “I’m Nick Madison’s last chance. I’m a trial-run conservatorship. I’m in charge of his life from right this second. If he wants to get rid of me and have his life back, he needs to show that he can be a grown-up.”
“So you really are in charge of everything.”
Jesus. Talk about coming late to the party. “I thought Mr. Cox explained that to you.”
“He did, but I thought you were in charge of things like his security, and visitors, and making sure he was staying clean, and—” His gaze met mine. “Oh. How did I…what was I thinking that included?”
“It’s okay, I get it,” I told him. “Even though Mr. Cox spelled it out, you still thought, ‘Nick has to have options because he’s a huge rock star, and he’s an adult, so they can’t just strip his freedom away.’”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I thought.”