“So you can use them for your own gain,” I finished.
Seb glared. “What about for their gain? Xena and Justin are nobodies. Their band…what the fuck was it called?”
“Gypsy Coma.”
“It was a glorified LA garage band. They weren’t special, but their blow up was epic…lies, deceit, and a gay lover. The public devours this sort of thing. You know it as well as I do.”
“Nature of the beast.” I sighed irritably before heading back to my bedroom with Seb close behind.
He sat on the edge of my mattress, observing me like a bug under a microscope as I stepped into a pair of black boxer briefs. I might have seemed unfazed, but I was on high alert. A pensive Seb usually meant trouble for me.
Seb’s drive and boundless enthusiasm were instrumental in his success. He was the well-respected and sought-after producer responsible for the wildly popular Baxter franchise and a string of mainstream blockbusters. I’d seen him in action, alternately browbeating and cajoling to get his way…just like every other big-time Hollywood exec. He had a gift for seeing what others couldn’t and the skill to communicate his ideas on a global scale. But I knew his quiet, introspective side was infinitely more dangerous.
“I need you to write the song,” he said softly. “You’re the best there is. I’ll look for other singers, but Xena is my first choice.”
“And Justin?”
“I want him too, but you’re right. He may not want to write for his ex. I should be cautious when I approach him.”
I groaned. “I did not say that.”
“Close enough. If he agreed, would you work with him?”
“He doesn’t know who I am.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
“No. He didn’t want to know anyway.”
Seb chuckled. “He’s going to think he won the fuckin’ lottery!”
“But I don’t want that.”
“Why? Are you afraid he’ll fall for your money instead of you?” Seb rested his elbows on his knees and shot a rye lopsided smile at me. “I hate to break it to you, but it’s always about the Benjamins, baby. Don’t go looking for love in a bar or—”
“Fuck you. I’m not in love with the guy.”
“Then give him a chance.” He stood abruptly and moved to my side. He nudged my arm. “Fine. I’ll ask him.”
“You already told me you were going to, and I told you he’ll say no,” I replied.
“A challenge! All right. We shall see. I’ll find a way. And if he says yes…which he will or he’s a fucking moron…you’ll do it, right?”
“He won’t.”
Seb furrowed his brow. “I want to wring your neck. I hate when you don’t blindly agree with me.”
I chuckled at his comedic delivery, though we both knew he wasn’t really kidding. “You should be used to that by now. Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”
“Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute. Did I tell you I’m going to Toronto next week? We’re filming a—”
“Ask his band to do it,” I blurted. “They’re new and they’re looking for a break. He might be interested then.”
Seb looked at me like I’d grown a pineapple from my head. “I don’t want a band. I want two star-crossed lovers. The only thing loosely resembling a band last night was Xena and her guitarist, Declan. He was hot and…you know, a love triangle song could work. Xena and two guitarists. I like that. I think the actual story involves the drummer, but I loved that guy’s looks. Great idea, Gray.”
“No, it’s a bad idea. Forget it. When are you going to Toronto?”
I pulled a pair of jeans from my drawer and listened with half an ear as Seb droned on about a location visit for another film. I was grateful for the topic switch. I grunted occasionally in acknowledgment as I dressed and silently mulled over the series of landmines Seb had planted.
Writing another song or two for the movie wasn’t a big deal. Seb knew I could do it in my sleep. But writing a song with Justin for his ex to sing felt…cheap. Like I was willfully feeding him into the Hollywood machine, exploiting his weaknesses for gain. And though he hadn’t shared what happened with Xena’s guitarist, I had a feeling that adding him to the mix would be even worse for him. I knew how the business worked. It was cruel and callous, and no one did anything out of the goodness of their heart. There was always a bottom line at stake.
3
Justin
My dreams were very fucking weird lately. I was on a sailboat, leaning against the railing, staring at the horizon where blue skies met turquoise water with a seductive sense of calm…no worries, no responsibilities. And I wasn’t alone. The sexy stranger was by my side. The gentle, rocking motion seemed indicative of smooth sailing and an aura of peace. It didn’t last long. The boat teetered precariously, the sky darkened…and then my phone rang.