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6
SEBASTIAN
I stumble out of my bedroom at the sound of someone in my house and try to remember if I set the alarm last night when I got home. I haven’t been back for a while and was grateful to sleep in my own damn bed.
Yay for local charities.
I’m still half asleep when I walk into the living room to find a petite woman, dressed in a black skirt, matching heels, and a white, silk blouse. Her face says don’t fuck with me, and her body language is saying the same thing.
“Who are you?”
“Seriously?” She has her phone in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. “You’re Sebastian fucking Harris, not some country bumpkin. You cannot leave your goddamn door unlocked.”
Shit.
“It was unlocked?” I asked, stunned, but I had a lot on my mind last night when I got home.
“Yes.” She makes herself at home, sitting gracefully on my couch with her ankles crossed and her back straight. “You what, just felt like being murdered last night?”
I sit down in my favorite chair and stare at the small intruder with bright red painted lips and all the attitude. “I didn’t mean to leave it unlocked, and you still haven’t answered my question.”
“I’m Jenny. I’ll be your new agent if you want. And you will start locking the damn door if you sign with me. You being murdered is a PR nightmare.” My eyes widen at the cold statement, and she waves her hand, the one with the phone in her grip. “I mean, sure, at first they’ll all be grieving for you, but then they’ll move on. And I’ll be down a client.”
She takes a sip of her coffee as I stare at her, my eyes wide. “Damn. That’s cold.”
A small smile forms as she lowers the paper cup. “I’m an agent. I’m paid to care about these things. About your brand. And I guess I’m going to have to add keeping you alive to the contract. At least making you lock your doors.”
I ignore that part, despite her being stuck on that fact. “You’re Cash’s friend.”
“That’s right.” She smiles again—deadly but somehow frank in the gesture. She feels real, even though she’s clearly tough as hell. “And I’m here to help.”
“I’m under contract with Kevin.”
Her lips purse as she waves that off quickly. “We can get you out of that, no problem, if you want it.”
I look into her eyes and see something there. Unsaid words. “Cash tell you anything else?”
“He told me you need a new agent. That yours is a prick, and I’d be a good fit.”
“Why’s that?”
She doesn’t waste time being coy. “Because my biggest client is a gay baseball player.”
“Ryan Bailey.”
She nods her head, and of course, now I realize where I’ve seen her before. But it’s not only the famous baseball player she represents. She also recently helped a professional golfer come out.
“So if I sign with you, people will just assume...” I don’t say the words. I don’t know why. I don’t think it’s actually a secret in this room.
“No one should assume a goddamn thing.” She places her cup on a coaster on my coffee table, her posture still perfect. “I just happen to have one spot open in my client portfolio, and you need a new agent.”
“And if I want to...” My throat goes dry. I clench my fists at my side, irritated I can’t seem to say it.
She eyes me cautiously. “Your personal life is your business. You don’t need to make a grand statement about any of it if you don’t want to. But if I’m your agent, I’m not going to place you in any box. I’m not going to make you hold onto the sweet little good-boy image your current management has created for you. You can be whoever you are.”
The words open up the floodgates for me, my body soaring on a high as I look her in the eye and believe every single word she just said. “I’m gay.”
