I laugh. “Partying hard. I’m sure they’ll come back down to earth soon.”
“Ah, well they should enjoy themselves,” Mum says fondly, who’s probably watched the music video almost as many times as I have.
I tell her that they definitely are, and then say goodbye and hang up. I hold my phone in my hand, thinking. There’s no one I want to tell about this job, but there is someone I want to tease a bit. I find the name in my contacts and call it, and it rings and rings before someone finally picks up.
“What time of the morning do you call this?” grumbles Jasminta’s sleepy voice when she answers.
I smile out the window at some white sheep in the fields. “Been celebrating, Miss Itch?”
She yawns noisily. “Not nearly enough. Come to Baroque tonight. I want to dance with you.”
Baroque is a club in Chelsea, very expensive, very cool. The kind of place I’ve been avoiding because Striker Jones has been known to hang out there. “Can’t. I’m out of town. Guess where I’m going?”
“Bitch please, it’s too early for guessing games.”
“To Shropshire.” There’s puzzled silence on the other end of the line, and I add, “All sorts of music industry people live in Shropshire. I’m rushing out there.” I roll my eyes at my terrible pun.
There’s another short silence, and then Jasminta lets out an unexpected squeal. “Rush Osman? It’s a Saint Cyprian music video? I’m going to die. This is amazing!”
The smile dies on my face. I expected to be able to draw out my news for a good ten minutes. “You knew about the music video? How did you know?”
Jasminta hesitates, and seems to realize she’s dropped herself in it. “Well, I sort of knew. Yes and no. I mean, I didn’t really know.”
I seem to have found the little bird Rush was talking about. “Jasminta, you promised you wouldn’t tell anyone I worked on your video.”
“Okay, listen. I wasn’t going to, but he already knew it was you, pretty much.”
I feel my eyes narrow. “Who’s he? Rush? How?”
I hear the sound of a coffee machine, and then a teaspoon rattling in a mug. “Not Rush. You remember my friend Rin who came to watch rehearsals for our music video? Tall, black hair, lots of piercings in his left ear?”
I think I vaguely remember someone of that description. “Yes. What about him?”
“He called me the other day asking what you were like to work with. I told him you were amazing and me and Cassie absolutely adore you. His name’s Rin Landers. You must have heard his new track. ‘Mass Affect’.”
I have, but I’m not getting distracted. “You told him I’m not working, right?”
There’s a guilty pause. “Well, he didn’t actually say that he was looking to hire you, so I didn’t get the chance. I think I said something like, ‘Dree’s everything, we love her.’ And then he hung up and I completely forgot about it.”
If this Rin Landers had my first name, it wouldn’t take much Googling to find out who I am. “So Rush knows Rin?”
“Yeah, Rush produced Rin’s album. I think Rush called all his music buddies to help track you down, figuring that someone must know who you are.”
I’m impressed by the lengths that the front man of Saint Cyprian went to, to find me. And maybe a tiny bit flattered.
“Are you mad at me?”
I let out a gusty sigh. “So mad. You’re dead to me.”
“I deserve that.” It seems like Jasminta can’t remain contrite for long, though, because she bursts out, “Are you going to do the Saint Cyprian video? This. Is. Amazing!”
“I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure out what the hell is going on. It was a shock when Rush Osman turned up at my studio.”
“I bet it was. What’s he like?”
“Surprisingly good at dancing.”
“Really? Huh. That’ll make your job easier. But what’s he like?”
For some reason I find my mind drifting as I recall his face and the way he talks. How his muscular body moved. That special something I felt radiating from him whenever he stood too close to me.
Energy.
That goddamn big dick energy of his.
It’s always been a turn on for me, men who know they’re hot. That cocky smile that catches the corner of their lips when they see something they like. Or someone.
I know all about Rush’s reputation for charming the pants off anything female. He’s got a truckload of bedroom charisma, but I wonder if he could make it mean if he wanted to. I wonder if he could be cruel. Warmth uncoils in my belly as I imagine Rush with his hand wrapped around my throat and my senses bound to him as he tells me I’m his dirty little bitch.
Then his good little girl in that deep, sexy voice. With big arms like those, I bet he gives the best bear hugs and makes you feel so small and protected.