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“That’s what I said, and asked,” he admitted. “I told him that you wore sweats and a sweatshirt, too, so it wouldn’t even give him a good blooper at the end.” He paused. “That’s what he wants it for, though. He’s known for his bloopers. They play at the end of the video, and everyone gets a good laugh out of it. His following has blown up because of them.”
I was purely amazed, though I wouldn’t be doing the recording.
“Well, tell him thank you for the generous offer, but no thank you,” I said.
“I already told him you’d say that. I told him you were a rich bitch that didn’t need that money, but he didn’t care. He wanted me to ask you. I had a feeling he would’ve doubled that price if he’d have thought he’d get you.”
That made me shiver a little bit.
Why would it be that important to him?
And why must Jeb always call me a ‘rich bitch?’
I wasn’t a rich bitch…technically.
Yet.
I was twenty-five, and my ‘fortune’ as Jeb liked to call it was in the form of a trust fund that wouldn’t be mine until I was twenty-eight. If I got married and had a child before then—which most definitely wouldn’t be happening because people had to be attracted to you to actually want to sleep with you to produce said child—then it’d be mine the day that I gave birth.
Mostly I paid my own bills and paved my own way through life.
Every once in a while, my father would give me something—like my RV—that he no longer needed or wanted.
Another example was my Chevrolet truck. It was pretty, shiny, and brand freakin’ new. I’m talking, so new that even the dealerships didn’t have these bad boys out yet.
Yet here I was, sporting a truck that everybody oohed and ahhhed over.
Though, admittedly, it was pretty.
I’d gotten it the week of ‘the incident,’ a day after Castiel had commented on my brand-new car and how I was driving it too fast. Then he’d seen me in the brand-new truck a few days later, and his face had taken on a look of what one would say ‘sucking on lemons.’
And why the hell was I thinking about Castiel?
Again?
“Anyway,” Jeb said. “Get this job done. I’d suggest moving it up first on your list. Maybe he’ll still give you a bonus.”
I rolled my eyes.
The only reason Jeb wanted a bonus was because he wanted a cut of said bonus.
He got five percent of every cent I made since he was the one that found me the jobs.
“Whatever,” I said. “I’m almost done with one. I’ll work on that one next.”
“Good,” he said. “And if you do decide to record yourself, let me know. I’d be happy to record it for you.”
I just bet he would.
The creeper.
“All right, have a good day, Jeb.” I nearly choked on the nice words as they came out of my mouth.
“Oh, I will,” he said silkily.
I almost gagged.
“Bye.” I hung up, then stared at the walls of my living room wondering if I could get out of the thing I had to do next—contest my ticket. Sighing, I grabbed my purse and headed for the courthouse.
I’d originally planned on just paying the damn thing, but then I’d seen the fine for the ticket and had then talked to my insurance company who had decided that since it would be my fourth ticket in a year, they’d be upping my insurance—considerably.
And since I didn’t want to pay anything more on my insurance than I was already paying, I chose to contest the ticket.
I’d been in the middle of my old chick’s hair—an old chick that happened to be dead since that was what I did for a living, dead people’s hair—when I’d gotten the call that my court date was today, and not to be late.
Which had then moved my phone meeting with Jeb up, meaning I hadn’t finished my client for Jubilee.
Which also meant that I was now in a bad damn mood because I then had to go back and do it tonight instead of working on my other job.
Which pissed me off because that wasn’t how this worked.
They didn’t get to call me and tell me that today was my court date and expect me to show up.
Sighing in frustration, I got out of my truck and slammed the door closed, beeping the locks with the keyless entry before practically stomping inside.
And wouldn’t it just be perfect if the first person I saw was none other than the reason I was there in the first place.Chapter 5She believed she could, but she was tired, lazy and would also rather stay at home with her iPad. So she didn’t.
-Text from Turner to Castiel
Castiel
She looked pissed.
Her curly auburn hair was bouncing around her face with each stomp that she took in my direction.
