AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What do I need to do?”
“Just meet her. She needs this as much as you do.”
“Her?” I shake my head. “Uggh, fine. Let me get a shower.”
“Maybe a razor?”
“Says Grizzly Adams. What is with this look? Blonde on top and brown on the face? You look like candy corn.”
“Just go clean up. I have a car out front.”
“Car, eh? Has it got a bar?”
“Kris.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m going.”
***
A strip of food joints is across the street from the Bridgestone Arena. The driver stops letting us out in front of the Rodizio Grill and Brazilian Steakhouse. A place with a bar, thank God. We go inside, and Cliff gives his name. Only he doesn’t say, Cliff. He says, Pierce Richards. I look at him with a brow raise.
“Oh, because you’re really Kris King.” Grabbing my arm, I’m led to the table. This place has a buffet vibe, but your meat choices are brought to the table and carved up fresh, from what I understand. “Now, be nice.” Cliff insists.
Sitting there is an older guy with salt and pepper hair. He’s dressed casually, in jeans and boots, typical for the area. It’s the girl with him that catches me, though. Her nearly waist-length hair has that crimpy wet look and is sorta honey blonde. Her skin is artificially sun-kissed, and her makeup is all bronzer and sparkle. Typical LA, though she is trying to blend fashion-wise, it’s not working. The pale blue dress reveals a wildflower tattoo from shoulder to the wrist, while the short length makes the ink on her thigh hard to miss when she stands at our approach.
Cliff kisses her cheek while I grumble at the waiter. “Bourbon, top-shelf.”
“Nikki and Bobby Barrett, this is Kris King, the producer I was telling you about.”
I shake Bobby’s hand, a familiar feeling in the exchange, before, with tongue in cheek, turning my attention to Nikki. “I assume you’re the singer?”
“That’s what they tell me.” Nikki quips, holding her hand out to me, the motion followed by a jingling from the very busy Pandora bracelet she’s wearing.
“I’m unimpressed and rather confused.” My hand circles her face. “This says I’m a flashy rich bitch, but this—” I circle the rest of her outfit, complete with daisy necklace and cowboy boots. “Says I’m wanna ride… Something. So which is it? Funhouse or madhouse?”
"Talk about unimpressed. You smell like you just rolled out of last night's drunk. It's not even noon, and you've already ordered a bourbon. You're a producer? Of what exactly? I'm sorry if I'm not what you expected. I was expecting someone—” She pauses for effect. “Younger." Nikki turns her sassy mouth away from me. "Pierce, he's old. What could he teach me about music?"
“A—ctually we’re the same age.” Cliff stutters as the waiter returns with my drink.
Snatching it off the tray, I knock it back. “Apparently nothing—thanks for the drink. I’ll see you around Cliff.” I turn on my heel and head for the door.
