“Glasses are cool, Ol,” Gray assured him, setting his readers on his nose.
I gave Gray a horrified look and shook my head. He responded with an irked frown and motioned for me to take over.
“Gray’s right,” I replied. “Let’s go pick up your super awesome eyewear…and some ice cream. Ready?”
“You’re trying to bribe me,” he said, scratching Chester behind his ears.
“Yes. I am,” I admitted. “If you’re opposed to bribery, we can run errands instead. I need to go the dry cleaner, the market, the—”
“Nope. It’s okay. You can bribe me.” He kissed the dog and hopped to his feet.
“Fabulous. Get your stuff.”
I waited for Oliver to race out of the great room before turning to Gray. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need luck. You’re good with him.”
“Thanks. I had an amazing role model.” I jingled my keys, then shoved them back into my pocket when the urge to gush became strong.
Gray smiled. “Who? Your dad?”
I chuckled. “He has his moments. Did you hear about his new assistant?”
“Giorgio? Yeah, I met him too. He’s very…uh, what’s the word?”
“Vacuous?” I suggested.
Gray snapped his fingers. “That’s it.”
“He’s hot too.”
“Your brother isn’t impressed. Between Rita’s new man, your dad’s new fuck buddy, and new glasses…Ollie’s not happy.”
I let out a defeated sigh. “I know. I hate it. I can’t do anything about Dad or Rita, but I’ll do my best with the glasses.”
Gray squeezed my shoulder in a fatherly gesture that made me wish I were a kid again, small enough to crawl onto his lap and let him slay all my dragons. He must have noticed my angst. He tilted my chin and gave me a concerned look.
“You okay, buddy?”
“I’m fine. I’m just thinking about work stuff.”
“Zero sounds good,” he gushed. “If they have one weakness, it’s—”
“Ky.”
Gray frowned. “I was going to say it was that they underestimate themselves. What’s wrong with Ky?”
“I don’t think he’s in it for the long haul. Or maybe he just hates me. Who knows? I feel some big blowup happening in the future, and I hope it’s not moments before they’re about to play Wembley.”
“Ky doesn’t hate you and Zero isn’t playing Wembley.”
“Yet,” I corrected. “But they will. And that’s the day Ky will decide he’s ditching the band, so I’ll have to jump onstage to save the day. Except I don’t know how to play bass, so I’ll ask someone in the audience to help and ’lo and behold, some sexy, tattooed hunk with a Spanish accent will volunteer. It’ll be love at first sight. He’ll propose in Malta, the wedding will be in—”
“Hold on.” Gray rubbed his temples and winced. “I know I shouldn’t ask but…why Wembley? And if you’re in London, why is your bassist Spanish?”
I waved dismissively. “I have no idea. You’re missing the point.”
“Oh. There was a point?” he asked sarcastically. “What was it?”
“I have to fix things. If Ky’s going to bail, I need to be prepared. If Declan is a threat, I need to figure out a way to protect Zero.” I quickly filled him in about the negative review and Declan’s possible contract.
“Slow down, Char. Justin hasn’t said a word about Ky. If he wasn’t happy with him, I’d know about it,” Gray said.
“True, but—”
“And the best manager in the world isn’t going to protect a band from bad reviews, bum breaks, or rivals who get noticed before they do. Those are the bumps in the road that make you appreciate success when it comes.”
“I respectfully disagree, Gray. It’s my job to ease the way for Zero to become the best band in the world. Just like it’s my job to support Oliver, so he doesn’t feel left out in the world. I might not succeed, but I have to try.”
“You’re not Superman, Char.”
“Ew, of course not. I’d rather be a Wonder Woman Batman hybrid. All black, badass outfit with high boots, a rope, and a cape.” I pulled my sunglasses from my bag and set them on my nose, diva-style.
Gray pursed his lips as though trying to hold back a laugh. I studied my other “father” from behind my shades and wished for the millionth time that Dad and he were still together. It was a childish and selfish thing to want. Gray loved Justin. And I had to admit, love agreed with him. He radiated the kind of happiness that made attractive people seem godlike. Gray was a good-looking man anyway. He was built like an athlete with wide shoulders and toned biceps, but his copious ink gave him a badass vibe he managed to pull off very well for a forty-four-year-old who regularly wore mismatched board shorts and ancient T-shirts. Kind of like Ky, I mused.
I frowned at the errant thought and refocused when Gray started talking.
“You gotta be patient sometimes. Don’t get overly invested in details you can’t control. It’s not your job to fix everyone. Just concentrate on you.”