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I shook her hand. “Hi. Ani.”
“The second good bit of news is twofold,” said Faye. “Joel Willet just proposed onstage during a show at the Troubadour to his quarterback boyfriend. Everyone is desperate for pictures of the happy couple and any wedding details. And songstress Aurora just threw her lead guitarist paramour out of their suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel for cheating. Bad news for her, but good news for us. You’re no longer the most interesting story of the day. Not even remotely. I’d say we’re about to see an exodus of paparazzi from the front gate.”
“Good,” said Garrett.
“Unless, of course, you change your mind about giving that interview.”
Garrett gave a stiff shake of the head. “No. Not yet. When we’re ready to announce the new album, maybe.”
“Okay.” She shrugged. “What about you, Ani?”
I frowned. “What about me?”
“No,” said Garrett forcefully. “She stays out of it. I’ll talk about certain private matters because it’s part of keeping Grace’s legacy alive. But Ani is kept clear of all this.”
“Ani is in it whether you want her to be or not, G. She should work with the PR people.” Faye crossed her arms over her chest. “Get a quick course in what not to say.”
“I’m not commenting at all,” I said. “We’ve been a couple for not quite forty-eight hours. This all feels very premature.”
“Don’t worry, babe,” said Garrett with a wink and a smile. “We’re still taking it slow.”
“I don’t believe you at all,” I grumbled.
Faye raised a brow. “I hate to be harsh. But have you noticed who you’re dating? He comes with a high-stakes, fast-paced lifestyle. And you’re now a part of it.”
“Faye, did you happen to notice where we are?” asked Smith with a smile. “This is Bigfoot country. I think it’s safe to say that Garrett’s changing the rules on all of that stuff. He wants to record an acoustic album and support it with a limited tour. The days of traveling the world for two years at a time are over. At least for now.”
“Not a bad thing,” said Lucas. “We did our first world tour when I was twenty-five. I’m about to turn forty. You give me shit about early retirement, but honestly, the last two years were nice. I missed making music, but I could pass on living out of a suitcase for the foreseeable future.”
Garrett tipped his chin in acknowledgment.
“Adam obviously feels the same, or he’d be here and not hiding out from his ex-wife behind tall fences in the Hollywood Hills.”
“Who could have guessed he and Genevieve wouldn’t last,” said Smith sarcastically.
Lucas smirked. “Would have thought he’d be here because he needs the money after she took him to the cleaners in the divorce.”
Rock stars were vicious gossips, apparently. You learned something new every day.
“At least we’re not just starting out, dependent on live gigs and the streamers, getting paid six cents a quarter,” said Smith.
Lucas snorted. “Amen.”
“Back to business. We’re older and wiser. I say we do it differently this time.” Garrett picked up a guitar and started tuning it by ear. “What do you think?”
“How differently?” asked Faye in her no-nonsense tone. “What do you plan on actually telling the record company tomorrow? And how limited will this tour be?”
Smith grinned. “Trust us, Faye. It’s all good.”
“This is officially the longest and strangest first date ever,” I said, closing the bedroom door behind me.
“Guess we are still on our first date, aren’t we?” Garrett wandered out of the walk-in wardrobe with a beat-up overnight bag. “Will you sleep here while I’m gone? Please? I like the thought of you in my bed.”
“With the crowd out front hopefully calming down, I was thinking of heading home.”
He frowned. “You were?”
“Yeah.”
He was wearing a faded Led Zeppelin shirt today. And damn, did he make it look good. Blue jeans and sneakers completed the look. Was it weird that I missed his bare feet? Guess all of the people in the house had him feeling less casual and comfortable than normal. It was understandable. And there was every chance I was stealing the tee off him to wear while he was away.
“What?” he asked with a smile. Those smiles were still on the timid side, but they were coming a little easier every day.
“Nothing.”
He stared at my gray Chucks. “Is your underwear the same color?”
“I noted that you told the person in charge of shopping about my good luck thing.”
Dropping the bag on the floor, he walked around me and undid the small button at the back of my top. “Your bra is white.”
“If it was gray it would be visible through the material, and that wasn’t the look I was after. But rest assured, my panties do indeed match the color of my shoes.”
“It’s an addendum to the rule, the bra being a separate color.”
