He shrugs. “Guess it went well. They said they’d be calling Peter to crunch numbers. A national fast food promotion deal is huge. It still doesn’t seem real. I keep waiting for someone to pinch me.”
Personally, you aren’t surprised that endorsement opportunities for Kai are popping out of the woodwork left and right these days. Kefi Yogurt was his big first national campaign, and it was the tiny nudge he needed to be catapulted into the spotlight. Not only is the man an absolute knockout—and you’re not saying that because he’s yours; you have been surrounded by beautiful people your whole adult life—but he’s a generational talent at his position. Personally, as a certifiable Show Biz Person, you can’t believe that it’s taken this long in his career for him to get noticed.
“I think you are going to kill it,” you say simply. “Super proud of you.”
“I’m only going to need to be out here another day or so,” Kai says. “Tomorrow I’m flying down to LA to meet with the Kefipeople, and then I’m free for the rest of the week. Want me to come out to Nash after that? Will you be there for a little while?”
You clear your throat. “Actually, ah. I’m headed to New York tomorrow. I have a business meeting on Thursday. Maeve flew Artemis back there, and I thought I’d spend a few days with her.”
“Maeve or Artemis?” he asks, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Actually, now that you mention it, both of them.” You smile back. “You know how it is. Apollo comes everywhere with me, but Art hates flying. Maeve promised to keep an eye on her.”
“Should I assume that means you don’t want me to fly up there?” Kai asks. His tone is pleasant, and you know him well enough to be reassured he’s not judging you. You guys are good about maintaining each other’s boundaries, spoken or otherwise.
“Yeah.” There’s absolutely no pressure, so why is your scalp prickling? “Give me a few days. Let’s plan on the weekend. You can come up to NYC or I can fly to Miami. Rack up some more loyalty points at the Faena.”
“I hate it when you stay on Miami Beach,” he says. “Traffic is always a nightmare.”
“You act like you have to leave once you get there,” you counter. “The furthest you’re getting from my suite is a massage at The Healing House or picking up sushi at Pao.”
“You treat me like a kept man,” he grumbles, but his gorgeous smile is back in evidence.
For your sake, you’re just glad that the conversation has shifted.
“No, let’s definitely spend the weekend at the Faena,” you decide. “I’ll send a car. You won’t even have to drive, unless youwant to take your Chevelle for a spin. But it’s getting a little warm to put the top down. Those town cars always have the best AC.”
“Definitely a kept man,” Kai deadpans. You want to melt into his warm bourbon eyes.
***
@chartwatcherofficial:Holding steady this week at #4 is GOLDEN by Sterling Grayson, proving that the singer’s ninth studio album has legs. Turns out that even being #cancelled can’t hold Grayson down too much. GOLDEN debuted at #1, but toppled after allegations against Grayson were brought forth by football player GoGo Heller. Have we seen the album’s peak?
***
“You received the NDA paperwork?” You hate yourself a little for asking. But not as much as you’d hate yourself if, god forbid, anything spoken in this room ever made it outside its four walls.
Blair, who asked to be addressed by her given name and not “Dr. Farah,” blinks at you slowly. Laces her fingers, and crosses her slim ankles.
“Your paperwork indicated that you’ve been in therapy before, Sterling, so I’m guessing you know about doctor/patient confidentiality. I assure you that no amount of tabloid money would make up for selling out my professional ethics. In addition to the inevitable, ruinous lawsuit. If you are genuinely concerned, however, that might impact our conversation. Let me know now, so we don’t waste any of our precious time.”
Damn. Maeve warned you that this woman was no-nonsense. But you just aren’t used to people talking to you like that. Your gut instinct is to be irritated, before you remind yourself that you are paying this highly-educated, highly-recommended professional to help you get your shit together.She’s pretty, you think, in a detached way. She’s extremely tall and thin, which gives her that same, angular strikingness that you’ve seen in supermodel acquaintances. Something about her blunt-cut bob of dark hair informs you more than her words that she isn’t to be messed with.
“Fair enough,” you concede. “I’m sorry. It’s just that…”
“I understand perfectly,” she says. “You aren’t my only public-facing client. While we are throwing out disclaimers, I should tell you that, as far as I am concerned, you are a blank slate. I don’t really enjoy Hollywood gossip and, even if I did, I wouldn’t base any of my impressions on it. I won’t consider any facts that you, yourself, don’t tell me. Your career, your relationships, et cetera. I don’t know you, and I’ll do you the courtesy of remembering that.”
“Thank you,” you say, meaning it.
“What brings you to my office?” she asks. “I see that you have been under the care of Dr. Okoru back in Nashville for a few years. Have you stopped seeing him?”
You shake your head. “Love Dr. O. He’s the best. But he’s my maintenance therapist. I wanted someone to help me deal with my current problems. They’re different from what I normally encounter.”
She arches an eyebrow. “You have a maintenance therapist?”
“You don’t? I thought all therapists have therapists.”
She huffs out something close to a laugh. “I do, actually. I just don’t use that terminology. That’s a new one for me. Give me just a minute, and we can get talking.”
