The Right Wish Page 5

  Ben’s tone was off, making me think she had, and maybe he’d already made a mistake involving her. My lips flattened. My endomorphic high didn’t just wane in that moment. It completely vanished.

  “Why’d you call?” I asked curtly, jogging up the interior stairs that led from the garage level entry to the main living area. “Besides to hassle me.”

  “I wanted to ask for a favor.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Shoot.” I dropped my house key in the oblong glass bowl on the Carrara-marble-topped island and turned to the stainless-steel fridge to grab a chilled bottle of water.

  “I need you to put in a good word for me with Jewel’s friend Camaro.”

  I froze in mid-motion, the plastic casing for the chilled water crunched in my tightened grip.

  Ben and Camaro? Huh-uh, no fucking way.

  “What makes you think she cares what my opinion is?” I asked carefully, my words measured.

  Camaro was beautiful, blindingly so. Since our first meeting, she reigned in my fantasies, but only fantasy. I seemed to only annoy her now, and because she remained such a temptation, I fanned the flames of her annoyance whenever possible. Whatever was necessary to keep me on one side of the line and her on the other.

  “Listen,” Ben said, “I don’t have many friends who know Camaro who would stick up for me. Jack’s certainly not going to say something favorable.”

  “You’ve got that right.” Ben had slept with Jack Howard’s current and soon-to-be ex-wife.

  “That leaves only you or Rush. Not sure about Rush, so I called you.”

  “Fuck me,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Yeah, she knows too much. It’s probably a long shot. I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important. But, hell, if I don’t make a move now, some other guy’s definitely going to.”

  “Poaching another guy’s woman isn’t a deterrent for you.”

  Ben snorted, not taking offense because it was the truth. “Not usually. But Camaro doesn’t respond to me the way most chicks do. I can’t get a good read on her.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you.” Hell, I couldn’t get much of a read on her either, especially where I was concerned, except that I had a knack for pissing her off. “I don’t really know her better than you.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. I was at Rush’s place often, maybe a lot more often now that Camaro had moved in. And while there, I watched her . . . every single opportunity I got.

  In addition to being beautiful, she was a dedicated friend to Jewel. She worked hard around the house, though her tasks took far longer than they should because of how often she daydreamed. She was thoughtful and kind to nearly everyone, occasionally even me. In addition to the things I’d learned through observation, I also knew about her previous work history and the details of the assault.

  “C’mon, man,” Ben said, his tone wheedling. “Help a brother out.”

  “It’s unlikely I can.” Translation: no way in hell will I help him land Camaro. “She doesn’t like me much.”

  “Noticed that. You’re not competition, so I figure you can talk to her. Get an idea where her head is regarding me, and smooth over any bad stuff she might have noticed. Like you do when something unfortunate pops up about me or the band in the media.”

  “Pave the way for you to make your move, huh?”

  “Exactly. Knew you’d get it.”

  “Not smart, Ben. You don’t want a relationship with her. You want to fuck her, and then you’ll dump her. And she’s Jewel’s best friend. You’ll make her mad and piss off Jewel, probably Rush too. It’s selfish to cause strife in the group.”

  “She’d be worth it.”

  I didn’t argue that point. “You never consider consequences.”

  “You consider them too damn much,” he said, and he was right. But he didn’t have the responsibilities I did.

  “I’m advising you not to pursue this, Ben,” I said firmly.

  “You’re such a lawyer.”

  “Finance major.” The distinction was important to me, but not to him or anyone else, apparently.

  And like a spoiled child, since I hadn’t given him what he wanted, he hung up on me.

  Shaking my head, I set my cell on the island and uncapped the water. Tipping it back, I chugged it dry.

  My cell rang as I tossed the empty plastic bottle into the recycle bin. I glanced at the display and took the call.

  “Hello, Coralee. Bradley Marshall speaking. What can I do for you?”

  “It’s not Coralee,” an irritated female voice said. “It’s her mother.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Chase. How are you?”

  “I could be much better.”

  “Yes, well, how can I help you?”

  “There seems to be twenty percent missing from the Zenith deposit into Coralee’s account.”

  “There’s nothing missing. Twenty percent is my portion of her advance.”

  “Two hundred thousand dollars for a couple of phone calls and a business meeting? That’s a pretty steep hourly rate.”

  I sighed inside and rolled my eyes. “Coralee signed management rights over to me for her career,” I said, keeping my voice level and professional. “I represent your daughter. I negotiated and closed the deal with Zenith, and I’ll continue to negotiate deals that will improve her career and increase her fortune. When she does well, we all do well.” And the reverse was also true.

  As I’d foreseen, Coralee’s mother was going to be a problem, a potential detriment to her daughter’s career.

  “Hmph. We shall see. Enjoy your two hundred thousand today, Mr. Marshall,” she said curtly, then ended the call.

  Shaking my head, I grabbed another bottle from the fridge and headed upstairs. It was time for another shower, this time in my own bathroom.

  When I stepped out onto the bath mat a handful of minutes later, dripping wet but clean, my phone rang again.

  “Bradley Marshall speaking,” I said after answering the call and engaging the speaker setting.

  “Oh my!” Shock trilled through a woman’s voice I recognized.

  Shit. “Sorry, Miss Timmons. Hold on.” I had somehow switched on the video setting. I quickly returned my phone to audio mode.

  “How can I help you?” No need to tell her it was me. She’d seen all of me, no doubt.

  “Yes, well.” She cleared her throat. “It’s rather large . . . I mean, Rush’s upcoming tour is, and the responsibilities involved.”

  “It is.” I agreed about the tour, and the rest. I was a guy. Size mattered.

  “I know in the past you’ve handled everything for Rush, but with 2 Rows Back joining the tour, I believe it would be wiser and safer to turn the operational logistics for both bands over to Samantha Daniels.”

  “She’s a capable tour manager.”

  “She is. Having her on board will free up your time. You can focus more productively on conflicts and such with Rush and his bandmates as they arise.”

  “I got it.” It was a good call. The last tour had left an impression on all of us.

  “The incident with Mr. Kennedy and the sprinkler system at the Ramada Inn was quite costly.”

  Ben, drunken Ben and a trio of strippers, had decided it would be fun to set off the fire alarm to make it rain inside the hotel bar.

  Her voice turned icy. “The expense came out of Black Cat’s budget, if you recall.”

  I recalled. How could I forget? She’d bent my ear about it, and I’d passed along that pain to Ben.

  “And the plane tickets for Mr. Howard’s wife took a notable dent out of profits.”

  “Visits from significant others are in the contract I negotiated for Rush and his band.”

  “Not first-class ones.”

  She had a point, so I conceded it.

  “You’re right. But that won’t be an issue going forward. Jack’s getting a divorce. Rush is taking Jewel with him. Benton, as you know, has his groupies to entertain him.”

  �
�Benton’s beauties. There’s a line item for them. For a ridiculous amount.” She sighed. “I’m not paying for strippers.”

  “Can’t swing it as part of his per diem?”

  “Not at the amounts he and his beauties imbibe. Absolutely not.”

  “Okay. I’ll see the band tonight. I’ll pass the information along personally.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Marshall. Always a pleasure.”

  “You’re welcome. Have a good day, Ms. Timmons.”

  “You too, Mr. Marshall.” She ended the call.

  Holding the towel in place at my waist, I returned to the bedroom, walked into my closet, and selected a suit. An Armani in a navy so dark it was almost black, a light violet shirt, and a diamond-textured platinum tie. I was tying the laces on my Ferragamos when another call came in.

  “Bradley Marshall,” I said with my phone held between my shoulder and ear.

  “Hey, it’s Gale.”

  He didn’t need to give a last name. I knew his voice.

  Gale LaFleur was the lead singer of Anthem, a rock band so huge and with such a loyal following, they’d continued to rule the revenue and billboard charts, even after Gale had taken off on his motorcycle for an eighteen-month sabbatical.

  “I haven’t talked to you since—”

  “The Grammys two years ago,” Gale said. “I received your email and the donation to Alcoholics Anonymous for DUI victims on the behalf of my family. It was a thoughtful thing to do, and much appreciated.”

  “The least I could do.”

  Emotion clogged my throat as I remembered how ravaged he’d looked at the funeral for his wife and son. I’d never been married and had no children of my own, but I loved my family. I was devoted to my parents; my sister, Sierra; and her son, Dylan.

  “Most people don’t know what to say or do.”

  The connection was suddenly muffled.

  “You still there?” I asked.

  “Yeah, just some interference. I’m calling from the road.”

  “You still riding the BMW?”

  “Yeah, but not alone.”

  “I’d heard you were back around.”

  “Gods of Rock Tour.” Gale paused for a moment, then said, “I found someone. She’s in the music business too.”

  “Josephine Poet. The Rock Fuck Club star of season three.”

  “Right.” He exhaled. “Everyone knows my business.”

  “Not everyone, probably. But, yeah, all of us in the music industry know.”

  “You know why I’m calling?”

  “I can guess.” And that hope made me stand up straighter.

  “Anthem is shopping for new representation. The guys and I talked, and we agreed. We want you.”

  “Done,” I said without any bullshit hesitation.

  His laughter was loud and unrestrained, and my eyes widened. Things must truly be better for him, and as serious with Josephine as the rumors implied.

  Still chuckling, Gale said, “Arthur, Noah, and me, we’re high maintenance. Don’t you want to think about it some more?”

  “Nope. I’m honored, and it’s done. When can we get together and sign the paperwork?”

  “I like your straightforwardness. Always have. Can you come up to Vancouver?”

  “Sure,” I said. “When?”

  “Soon.”

  “Going on tour with Rush tomorrow.”

  “You got any days off during?”

  I scoffed. “With Benton Kennedy to look after? Um, no.”

  “Well, shit. I was hoping for sooner rather than later. Anthem’s out with Lesowski Entertainment. I was thinking about switching over to Black Cat.”

  “Timmons would love that.”

  “She’s mentioned it. Several times when I’ve been up here with Jo.”

  I’d bet she had. “Let me see what I can do, and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Good.”

  “We’ll talk soon. ’Bye, Bradley.”

  “Good-bye, Gale.” I pulled my cell away from my ear and stared at it for a long moment.

  I was going to represent Anthem. Wow.

  It wasn’t even midmorning, and my voice mail was probably already full. I’d already spoken to the head of the biggest label in the industry, and was soon to sign one of the premier acts in rock music. In a short but efficient span of time, I’d fielded several important calls and addressed a wide range of issues.

  And it was time I made a call to address an unpleasant overdue issue of my own.

  Chapter 6

  * * *

  Camaro

  At the stovetop in Rush’s kitchen, I added a little more water to the simmering Bolognese sauce so it wouldn’t stick to the bottom of the pot. The recipe was my mother’s, and it was her favorite. I tried to make it every year on her birthday to celebrate her memory, but there had been no real kitchen to cook in since I’d left Chris.

  Everything good, brave, and true is you, Mom. I sprinkled a pinch of some coarse sea salt into the sauce and kissed the back of my hand. I miss you.

  Asleep, she might be inside a glass castle on some other plane of existence, but she would always be with me inside my heart. Her love was the thread that held the remaining pieces of it together.

  The blended aroma of tomatoes, onion, and a pinch of nutmeg brought back memories. Her birthday was in the winter, her favorite time of year at our Chicago estate. In the springtime, we always visited my grandparents—her parents—before they too passed on to another plane.

  With all of them gone, it was just me now. My father didn’t count. How could he? He didn’t want me. Tears pricked my eyes, and as if my need for comfort had summoned her, Jewel suddenly appeared.

  “Who are you talking to?” Moving to stand beside me at the cooktop, she put her hands on my shoulders and squeezed gently. “Hey, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “I was thinking about my mom. Talking to her.” Blinking, I swiped away the wetness from my eyes.

  “Are you okay?” Jewel covered my hand. “It’s almost her birthday, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Nodding, I withdrew my hand and picked up a spoon to stir the sauce. “I’m missing her even more than usual cooking this. It used to be her favorite meal.”

  The soft murmured voices of Rush, Ben, and Jack talking together drifted into the kitchen from the adjoining dining room. It was a cozy comfortable evening before everyone left on the tour, almost like a family gathering. Just like I wanted it to be.

  Because once they all left, then it would be only me.

  “I understand,” Jewel said wistfully. “Certain foods really make me miss my gran.”

  “Her peach pie was your favorite, right?”

  She nodded. We’d bonded over our losses before we learned all the other things we had in common.

  We’d both been jilted by boyfriends, learned to distrust men, and lost the goodwill of those we wanted to love us most. For Jewel, it was her grandmother. In my case, it was my father. I knew Jewel’s history, and she knew most of mine. She just didn’t know all of it.

  I offered her a small smile. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

  “Good to have a best friend who knows how to cook.” She received my smile and gave me a bigger, prettier one. “Thanks for doing all this. It’s nice.”

  Giving away kindness, you made others happy and received so much more in return. My mother had that right.

  “Go back in with everyone else and sit down. Relax.” I inclined my head. “I’ll come in and enlist some help carrying the food to the table in a minute. I just want to grate some fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano first.”

  “Okay.” She turned and walked away, her shining auburn hair swaying against her back.

  I got the cheese from the fridge and started grating. Returning to the stove, I was just adding in a pinch more salt to the sauce when Ben sneaked into the kitchen, stealthily moving up close behind me.

  “Get out of the kitchen, Ben.”

  “N
o.” He remained where he was, hemming me in.

  Ignoring his come-ons was my usual strategy, but he was too close. That wouldn’t work, so I repeated the warning. “Get out of my space now.”

  My heart fluttered painfully inside my chest. I didn’t like being crowded, especially not from behind. Quickly, I mentally listed off valid reasons to remain calm.

  My fear wasn’t rational because Ben wasn’t a threat.

  I wasn’t alone like I’d been that night.

  Jewel was just around the half wall at the dining table with Rush and Jack.

  “Your space is our space when I’m in it,” Ben said, practically purring in an intimate tone. He was only flirting with me, but he triggered the anxiety I’d often struggled with since the attack.

  “Back off.” Turning my head, I narrowed my gaze at him. “Now.”

  “You don’t mean that.” His emerald eyes flared beneath his ink-black hair.

  “I most certainly do mean it.” I gritted out the words through clenched teeth. “You’re too close.”

  I didn’t want any guy as close as he was anymore—except maybe one, and those were just dreams. But Ben had caught me off-guard.

  “Baby, c’mon,” he said, giving me that grin meant to melt my panties. “Be sweet. You were sweet with Jack earlier.”

  “Jack is sweet.” He was unassuming and not pushy like Ben.

  My heart kicked up to panic mode as the bassist pressed closer.

  “Stop acting like this,” I hissed.

  “Acting like what?” His warm breath caressed my ear, giving me icy chill bumps. “Like I want you? Because I most certainly do.”

  “I’m not playing around.” My tone was shrill. I had a hot stove in front of me, and a hot guy behind me. One I didn’t want.

  “You’ll like my brand of playing around, darlin’. I guarantee it.”

  He planted his large hands on my hips, a maneuver that sent me careening backward. Plunged into dark memories from the past, I gasped as my vision tunneled. Reasons to be calm no longer factored in.

  Spotting the wood chopping block in front of me, I dropped the spoon and yanked out one of the knives.

  “Say yes, beautiful.” Ben spun me around.

  “No! I say no!”