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“This sounds awfully familiar,” I say as flashes of this exact scene from last year blink through my mind.
Tarrah turns to me again and holds her hand up. “I know I’ve asked you before if he can stay here, but this is different.”
I tilt my head in doubt.
“Okay, it’s not that different. But I promise this is the last time.”
I squint my eyes at her, careful not to flick my gaze in Elijah’s direction.
“He doesn’t have a dog or any other pet, so no worries there. Just a small bag of clothes, so he won’t take up that much space,” Tarrah offers. “He’ll pay you upfront too. Double the normal rent.”
I cross my arms over my chest and mistakenly turn to the tall, rigid guy next to my friend.
I feel exposed. It doesn’t seem like he’s blankly watching me anymore. No, Elijah is studying me with a blend of curiosity and mischief in his stormy eyes.
That can’t be good.
“I told him how much the rent is since I, too, lived here a few months ago. But it doesn’t matter, anyway.” Tarrah smacks his broad but lean chest, and it does nothing to budge him. I suspect I’d need a bulldozer and a wrecking ball to remove him and any trace of him from my home, even though he’s only been here for a few minutes. “He’ll pay it, and he’ll stay out of your way. Besides, all of his shows in the city with his new band will keep him so busy, you won’t even notice he’s here.”
Too late for that.
“Then, once the renovations at his apartment are done, he’ll move right back to his permanent residence several miles—and worlds—away from here. What do you say?” Tarrah gives me her biggest show smile. It’s the one she dazzles audiences with when she performs.
She’s an aerialist at the restaurant we both currently work at. I’m not a performer myself, but one could call it that. I definitely act and pretend to enjoy serving tables like my life depends on it.
In a way, it does. My live-lihood does, anyway.
For the most part, though, I enjoy working there. It twists a unique spin on traditional dining.
The exotic restaurant is also difficult to secure a position with. Their special brand of awesome has even more appeal when it comes to management. They’re known for being super generous and friendly to their staff, which makes those in the service industry happy.
I was lucky to get a job there. If it weren’t for Tarrah’s glowing recommendation, my application might still be one of many in a messy pile on our manager’s desk.
In a way, I owe her this favor.
Still, something about Tarrah’s exaggerated smile forms a knot in my stomach, but the boulder of desperation in my head is far stronger.
Even though I’m well aware that she saved me from unemployment, I also really need the cash, and I need it stat. Who knows when I’ll get another opportunity to fill Micah’s old room. It could be months, and my savings account was already looking rather bleak before Elijah walked through the door.
If only I could blame it on the insane cost of living in New York. In reality, it’s because I spent the next two months’ rent on writing-craft books, workshops, and a new laptop.
Sighing, I drop both arms to my sides, where they dangle by my hips in defeat.
“Fine. He can stay,” I croak, then square my shoulders and assert, “But no female guests. No music blaring until five in the morning. And no Mission Impossible marathons. I’ve gotten enough Tom Cruise to last me a lifetime.”
A bounce in Elijah’s cheek comes and goes faster than a blink like he just suppressed a grin.
And I most certainly do not internally celebrate that I could have any positive effect on my shameful celebrity crush.
Elijah was my celebrity crush, anyway. Before I met him and realized what a tool he is beneath his leather jacket.
He looks every bit the rock star that he is. Tattoos inked on his skin like rites of passage. Dark hair and even darker, sinful eyes framed by naturally black lashes as if he’s constantly wearing mascara. Once, I read in a magazine interview that he frequently gets asked for mascara recommendations. People assume that’s his secret.
Evidently, it’s hard for them to believe that anything on this man could be a God-given trait, and I don’t blame them. It’s unfair that one person has this much good luck in the looks department, not that I’d ever tell him this to his face.
I’d never tell him I read up on him on occasion because he sings one of my alltime favorite songs, either.
Tarrah jabs her elbow into her brother’s side, and through one corner of her mouth, she mutters, “You got that?”
