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“Thanks, brother.” Ice jerks his chin toward the hallway. “Got a minute?”
“Sure.” I point to Jigsaw. “Don’t go far. I need to talk to you.”
“Yeah, okay.”
I follow Ice into his office and he closes the door behind us. “How’d it go?” he rumbles in a flat tone, disinterested tone that probably inspired his road name.
“Fine.” Fuck, I agreed to go as protection, not to return with a fucking full report of events. “She handled it well. Gave out the info for the site. Station said they’ll keep it up on their website too.”
“Good. They treat her with respect?”
“Eh.” I shrug. “One was a bit of an asshole, like she said. But I think that’s their schtick.”
Maybe if you want people to be respectful, don’t send her to the prick and dick show.
He reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a wad of cash.
“Ice, come on. You don’t have to pay me.”
He levels a frosty glare my way. “Don’t start that shit with me, Rooster.”
I did the respectful-decline-the-money-first routine, so now I feel comfortable reaching for the cash. “Appreciate it.”
“How long you in town?”
“My girl gets in late tonight. Probably leaving with her early next week.”
“You bringing her by tonight? Probably gonna be rowdy. Celebrating the launch of the site and all.”
“I might get a room downtown, but I’ll definitely bring her by the next night.”
“It’ll be a party all weekend but anyone you want to bring is fine with me.”
“Thanks.”
After I leave Ice’s office, I pull out my phone and text Shelby.
Me: Make it to Philadelphia?
Shelby: Just finished rehearsal.
Me: How’d it go?
She responds with a few thumbs down emojis.
Instead of answering, I jog upstairs and slip into my room to call her.
“Hey,” she answers right away.
“What’s wrong?”
She laughs softly. “Nothing’s wrong. I just didn’t like the sound setup. It’ll be okay.”
“I miss you,” I blurt out.
“Miss you too,” she says softly. “Whatcha been up to? I don’t have any mental pictures of you in that clubhouse.”
Yeah, my day isn’t one any woman wants mental snapshots of. Here’s my boyfriend escorting a porn star around town. Oh, look, a shot of my boyfriend spending his afternoon setting up accounts on adult film sites. Here he is deciding which bare-assed photo will bring in the most subscribers.
Nope.
“Nothing you want in your mental photo album.” Points for honesty, right? But I really need to come clean about what I’m up to when I see her. Not the intricate club-business details but at least the broad strokes.
“Hmm. That sounds ominous.”
“Club business. Nothing exciting.” Not to me, anyway. To Shelby? Yeah, I think she’ll have an opinion or two.
“You really want to pick me up tonight? You don’t have to. I can—”
“What are you talking about? Of course I’ll be there.” Somehow, I need to make it clearer to Shelby that I mean what I say and she can trust me.
“Shoot. I have to go. Sorry, Rooster.”
“Hey, before you go, any more creepy messages?”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
It shouldn’t be that hard of a question to answer. “Like that ‘marry me’ one you got the other night?”
She lets out a high, thin laugh. Not like Shelby at all. I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it for a second.
“Probably dozens of ’em. I haven’t checked my email yet,” she finally answers.
Hasn’t checked her Instagram either, or she might have noticed the King of Cocky Roosters profile that started following her recently. Still not sure how I’ll explain all the porn stars I’m also following. But those are for business reasons. The way I’m stalking Shelby’s pervy admirers is purely personal. I’ve already zeroed in on at least three grown-ass men who seem to be obsessed with her.
From what I’ve seen, her social media’s full of bullshit that Greg should be keeping better tabs on. Someone needs to go through and delete the shitty comments, report and investigate the creepy ones, and answer her genuine fans.
Not my business.
Not yet anyway.Shelby
After my set, Greg walks me to my dressing room, Bane close on our tail.
I’m buzzing to get the heck out of here. We have a long drive ahead of us.
Greg drops down on the couch while I pack my stuff.
Paper crinkles and I glance over. “What’s that?”
“Your schedule for tomorrow.”
“My schedule?” Except for this dumb interview that got tacked on, my only plans were to spend time with Rooster. He better not have added anything else. “Email it to me.”
“You need to be at the interview early. Are you sure you’ll be ready? I’m not comfortable having Logan take you.”
I pace the length of the couch, throwing glares at Greg each time I pass. “Well, I really wish you’d consulted me before you set it up.”
“This is a big deal for you, Shelby,” Greg says in his “be reasonable” tone that usually has the opposite reaction from me. “This isn’t a country station. ‘Big Lies’ has more of a mainstream feel and they’ve been getting tons of requests for it.”
