Grip Trilogy Box Set

“The Presidential Suite?” I frown, mentally scrolling through the email I sent Sarah about accommodations for Qwest’s team. “I’m glad you like it. I just don’t remember reserving it for you.”

“Yeah. It’s a three-bedroom suite.” It’s his turn to frown. “Is there a problem?”

“No. Probably just a mix-up. No problem.” I catch Sarah’s eye across the room and flick my chin so she knows I need her before looking back to Will. “Is Qwest settled okay?”

“Um, yeah.” Will’s face broadcasts his reluctance. “She really wants to hang with Grip tonight instead of doing that interview, though. Any update from the reporter?”

Translation. She really wants to sleep with Grip before she goes back to New York. That’s her business and his, not mine, I remind myself and draw a deep breath to support the words I need to say.

“I’m trying. I’ve left Meryl a message and am just waiting to hear back.”

“Waiting?” Will glances at the platinum watch on his wrist. “She needs to let us know soon.”

“Believe it or not,” I say sharply, despite the control I thought I was exercising. “My job description as Grip’s manager does not include arranging booty calls. So yes, waiting to hear back. And if Qwest needs to hear that from me, it’s a message I’m more than happy to deliver personally.”

Will holds up both hands, his teeth flashing white against his goatee and dark skin.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He takes my hand and squeezes. “You handle Meryl. I’ll take care of the booty call.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“You must admit,” he says, his eyes persuading me to smile. “It is an awful lot of booty for one person to manage.”

I laugh before I catch myself. Qwest’s ass is the stuff of legends.

Jaws drop over it. My laugh withers in my throat when I think of Grip spending the night holding on to that ass.

“I’m just trying to keep my artist happy,” Will says. “So don’t flip.”

“Flip?” I find a polite smile from somewhere. “You’ll know when I flip, Will. I’m far from flipping. I’ll have an answer for you before the show is over.”

“Grip’s lucky to have you.” There’s sincerity in his eyes, which is something we don’t find much of in this business.

“Qwest is lucky to have you, too.”

Because God knows she and I would kill each other.

Will knows hip-hop, but he knows business even better. Armed only with his MBA and hustle, he started a small management firm just a few years ago. Qwest was his first act, but he’s parlayed that into several others, and recently merged with Sound Management, one of the largest firms in the business.

“Congratulations, by the way, on the deal with Sound,” I add.

“Thanks.” Will’s smile is instant and tinged with pride. “Ezra Cohen asked me to tell you hello. I didn’t realize you knew him, though I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I interned with Sound in New York and worked some at their office here in LA when I first moved. Ezra’s been a mentor of sorts to me over the years.”

“I guess with parents like yours, making those connections is easy, huh?”

I stiffen at his words, resenting any assumption that my parents’ success managing classical musicians fast tracked me.

“He actually wasn’t familiar with my parents at all. He’s main- stream. They move in classical circles.” I clip each word. “I applied for the internship like anyone else and busted my ass once I got it.”

“I’m sorry.” Will’s dark eyes search mine, and he grimaces. “Look, real talk. I’m the only minority at the Sound Management partner table, and most of them think I’m Ezra’s answer to affirmative action.”

The memory of fetching coffee for some of those assholes during my internship makes me grin.

“And a lot of folks at Penn State thought of me as some kind of token. Like I was taking the spot of someone who actually deserved it,” Will continues. “I guess what I’m trying to say, and not very well, is that I know what it’s like when people assume you got where you are using something other than hard work. Didn’t mean to imply that.”

“No problem.” I relax my face until my smile becomes genuine. “Sorry I got defensive.”