Heartless: Episode 3

My pulse picked up with her words third row as I thought of how incredible every concert I’d seen from that close had been. It was one thing to be at a show in the nosebleed section, but it was almost an out-of-body experience to sit up front. Entertainers couldn’t hide anything from you when you were feet away from them; you picked up the smallest details that would otherwise be missed if you were sitting anywhere else. Like the way the beads of sweat formed on their forehead first before rapidly sliding down their faces, or whether or not they were really singing versus lip-synching. You saw if their shoe came untied or if they missed a step in their perfectly choreographed routine. And don’t get me started on the eye contact. Being that close to the stage gave you access to their line of vision…and you were in it.

Keri was right; I did like Walker Rhodes’s music. And his face wasn’t too bad either. But his reputation was a total turnoff. Not like I was planning on dating the guy, but you couldn’t really think about him without having his man-whoring ways come to mind. He was in the tabloids almost daily, stumbling out of a Las Vegas club or casino with a girl on each arm, getting into fights, and spending way too much time and money there. Don’t get me wrong, Vegas was all right, but anyone who loved that smoke- and debauchery-filled place as much as Walker Rhodes seemed to couldn’t be good news. He was the epitome of a bad boy.

Not to mention the fact that the things I’d heard about him from some of our clients at work only further endorsed his less-than-angelic behavior. I imagined his publicist had their hands full, following behind him and cleaning up his PR messes.

“Madison, you can’t make me go to this concert alone. I’ll never forgive you.” Keri’s fake whine broke through my thoughts.

Focusing once again on her pleading expression, I laughed. “Yes, you will. And you knew damn well I’d say yes before I even walked through the door.”

Her face brightened. “Actually, I just hoped you’d get home before the concert started. I never know with your hours. I was half afraid I’d have to pick you up at the office and head straight to the concert from there.”

She was referring to my job at the agency. I was an assistant to one of the hottest talent agents in Hollywood, so my hours were unconventional and unpredictable, to say the least. Keri wasn’t wrong to be concerned about my timing; not that her hours at the studio were any better.

I sucked in a quick breath. “I can’t say no to you.”

She squealed as she gripped my shoulders with her hands. “Go get ready. The car will be here in twenty minutes.”

“What car?” I asked over my shoulder as I headed away from her and down the hallway of our three-bedroom apartment.

“I didn’t want to drive, so I ordered a Town Car.” When I shot her a knowing glance and a smirk, she admitted, “Fine, my dad’s assistant ordered it, but what does it matter? That way we can drink at the show if we want to. I’m just being responsible!”

“You’re wasteful with money,” I said, laughing as I rushed into my room to change.

“You’re wasteful with…life!” she shouted back.

I rifled through my closet and pulled out a fitted black tank top that accentuated my curves in all the right places. Then I reached for my favorite worn-in skinny jeans and slipped them on. After adding my most comfortable pair of knee-high boots, ones I knew wouldn’t kill my feet after standing all night in them, my outfit for the night was complete.

I hurried into the bathroom and plugged in my heating wand, then went to work curling fat waves into my normally stick-straight blonde hair. Realizing I didn’t have much time, I did a quick once-over on my face with fresh makeup. I dipped an oversized sable brush into my powder foundation before tapping it against the side of the container. Spreading a light coat over my already made-up face, I smiled at my reflection. A light dusting of gold eye shadow on my lids and some eyeliner made my brown eyes pop, followed by a fresh coat of glossy pink lipstick, and my day-to-night transformation was complete.

A glittering from the corner of the counter caught my eye and I shifted a towel to reveal my favorite headband, a gift from Keri. It was gorgeous, with two rows of Swarovski crystals set against a black elastic band.

She knew I was obsessed with headpieces. Anything that reminded me of Roman goddesses, the Roaring Twenties, or exotic kingdoms in faraway lands, and I was all over it. What can I say; I’m a romantic. She bought me the crystal one because she knew I’d never spend that kind of money on myself, claiming that my face lit up when I saw a similar one during an opening gala party we’d attended together in Beverly Hills.

I placed the headband across my head and over my newly wavy hair, which I mussed up a little so it looked fuller and the thick waves bounced in every direction.

When I headed out of the bathroom and into our living room, I saw that Keri had transformed herself into a goddess. A slinky black dress clung to every curve, and her waist-length chestnut hair fell all around her.

“Holy shit, you look gorgeous.” I pursed my lips, admiring her ridiculous body. “I hope Walker doesn’t see you tonight. He might not be able to sing.”

She tossed her head back and laughed. “Gross. You know all those things they say about him are true, right? I mean, the tabloid stories are usually so far-fetched and out of touch with reality, but with Walker Rhodes? They’re unfortunately spot-on. Such a waste.”

I frowned and gave a little shudder. “I’m so glad he’s not one of our clients.”

“He’d be a complete pain in the ass, that’s for sure. But at least he shows up for work on time and does his job. It’s just all the after-hours stuff that gets him into trouble.”

I nodded, agreeing with her assessment. “Hey, how’d

you get the tickets anyway?”

She waggled her eyebrows playfully. “My dad. Someone at the studio gave them to him. They actually wanted him to go to the show and see how Walker performed live. I think they’re going to pitch a movie with him as the lead.”

Keri’s dad was an executive at a movie studio. He was also her boss, since she worked for him as a production assistant. Not wanting to be accused of riding Daddy’s coattails, she’d insisted on paying her dues like everyone else, but paying them under her dad’s watchful eye. It garnered her respect from her coworkers that she wasn’t using her daddy’s name to get ahead in the business. And she worked hard, which was something we had in common.

I groaned out loud. “Not another one of those singers turned actors. Can’t they just stick with one thing?” I rolled my eyes at the ceiling. “So, do you have to give a full report back to your dad?”

She nodded, waving her iPhone at me before tucking it into her purse. “Yep. I have to film parts of the show with my phone and e-mail them to him.”

“You could have told me this was for work. I’ll always agree to go with you to events when they’re work-based.”