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“Yeah.”
“Don’t be late, Adrian,” she warns, her index finger wagging. “I’m your babysitter now. If you’re late, that’s on me.”
“I won’t be late.”
“I know you had a great ol’ time messing with me during the tour,” she continues. “But I’m begging you not to pull that shit on me again. Being on this show is a dream come true for me and I want to do a good job.”
I feel a pang of guilt for all the times I messed with Laila during the tour. Why’d I do that, again? “I promise I’ll be a good boy for you, Laila,” I say. And when her face plainly says, I’ll believe it when I see it, I add, “Laila, when I give my word about something, you can take it to the bank.” I shift my weight under her scornful stare. “Okay, maybe you can’t take it to the bank, every time. But you can count on my promise this time.”
Again, she looks unconvinced.
“Also, as a rule of thumb going forward,” I continue, “I’d say you can count on my word being my bond . . .” I smile. “A solid eight times out of ten.”
Three
Laila
Exactly nine minutes after my conversation with Savage on Reed’s patio, I walk into Reed’s game room to await Savage’s imminent arrival. Or, rather, Savage’s imminent non-arrival, so I can ask a PA to march up to his room and drag his infuriating ass down here. But to my surprise, when I enter the spacious room, Savage is already here, chatting with Kendrick. In fact, I’m the last cast member to arrive.
I head over to Savage and Kendrick, noting that Savage looks especially gorgeous. Savage often rocks edgy designer duds onstage, also when he’s on-camera for an interview or awards show, so I’m used to seeing him looking like a runway model. But Savage looks especially yummy right now, like he leaped off the pages of Gentlemen’s World.
“Hey, Fitzy,” Savage says when I reach him.
“Hey, Fitzy,” Kendrick echoes.
“No. Just me,” Savage says sharply to Kendrick, wagging his finger to emphasize his point. Savage pauses, making sure Kendrick got the message, and then returns to me with a smile. “What took you so long, Fitzy? I’ve been waiting on you for five minutes.”
I roll my eyes. “Sure, Jan.”
“It’s true,” Savage says. “Ask Kendrick.”
Kendrick nods. “It’s true.”
Savage looks me up and down, taking in my minidress and thigh-high boots. “I have to say, you were worth the wait. Damn, girl.”
“Yeah, you look great, Laila,” Kendrick concurs, his tone pointedly platonic, unlike the one used by Savage.
“Thank you. You both look very handsome, too.” I address Savage. “Thank you for not making me hunt you down on Day One of my babysitting gig.” I look at Kendrick. “I assume I have you to thank for that.”
“Nope. Savage was already here when I arrived.”
My eyebrows ride up in surprise.
Savage says, “I promised I’d be on time, so I was. Remember when I promised Reed I’d show up for Alessandra’s music video shoot? My word is my bond, baby. Mostly. Sometimes. On occasion.”
I can’t help chuckling, along with Kendrick and Savage. Even when he’s annoying, Adrian Savage is incredibly charming. There’s no denying that.
“Yeah, so I guess that VIP meet and greet you barely made it to was one of the two in ten times your promise is worth nothing, huh?” I say. “If you ask me, being an hour late for a professional obligation is the same thing as breaking a promise.”
I’ve intended to razz Savage, lightheartedly, with my comment. But Savage looks like I’ve slapped him across his chiseled face. And that’s all it takes for me to realize there’s been a shift between us, without me realizing it until now—a shift that’s made me seem like a petty bitch for bringing up that VIP event, yet again. Did the shift between us happen last night, when we shared our electrifying first kiss? Or did it happen while I was sitting on Savage’s face, screaming in ecstasy? Did it happen when Savage held my hair to keep it from falling into the toilet? Or when Savage said yes to every stupid, ridiculous thing the producers asked of him yesterday, and then agreed to pay two million bucks out of his own pocket to seal the deal?
Whenever the shift between us happened, it’s now clear that stupid VIP meet and greet is off-limits for me to bitch about, along with all the other petty stuff that pissed me off during the tour. I already reamed the guy about all of it in Atlanta, after all, in front of everyone. And the man is obviously trying to get off on the right foot in our new adventure by arriving here early. So, perhaps I should shut my mouth and turn the freaking page and try to get along.
