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“Mm-hmm. Right. Okay… no, no problem. I totally understand.” I went back to my magazine while she finished up the conversation, which was brief and consisted of a lot of “Totally,” and “No problem,” and “Ofcourse.”
I looked up again when Devi hung up. She was staring at her phone, like it might somehow explain to her what just happened. “Well. That wasinteresting.”
“Aclient?”
“No. Maggie Omura. You just met her. Kindof.”
“Oh.” Right. The pretty dark-haired waif with the hot guy and the even hotter guy. “Max liked her. Didn’t you, Max?” At the sound of his name, Max woofedcontentedly.
Devi leaned back in her chair, assessing me. “You also just met Jesse Mayes, which you’re playing it awfully coolabout.”
“Who?” I slurped whipped cream from the top of mycoffee.
Devi sighed. “Honestly, Katie. Are you kidding me? JesseMayes?”
“What? That guy who just left?” I pretended to be enraptured with a deodorant ad in my magazine. “One of yourmodels?”
“I wish. Jesse Mayes is only one of the hottest rock stars in the world and as an incredibly cool young person you should really know what I’m talkingabout.”
I assumed she added the “incredibly cool young person” comment since last week we got into an argument when she said my apartment looked like an old lady lived in it. And after I’d rigidly defended my music collection (on vinyl), my home phone (on a cord), and my TV (which didn’t exist), I realized she had a point, and maybe she was just scared of losing her best friend to spinsterhood at the age of twenty-four, which was probably a realisticfear.
I gave her my best stink eye anyway. “So?” Then I went back to my magazine, because in truth I had no idea who Jesse Mayes was. Other than the hottest guy in the knownuniverse.
“So,” she said, “I thought you likedDirty.”
“Dirtywhat?”
“The band.Dirty.”
“Oh. Who doesn’t?” I looked up again. “You mean, he’s in that band?” I knew music. Kind of prided myself on it. But people? People were Devi’sdomain.
“He’s their lead guitarist. And he sings like a sexybeast.”
That, I couldbelieve.
“He just put out a solo album and they’re shooting a music video in town. The woman they cast to star in it with him as his music video girlfriend bailed.” Devi tipped her pretty nose in the air. “Not from our agency, ofcourse.”
“Of course,” I said, but she’d lost me somewhere aroundsexy beast. I was now trying to recall every Dirty song I knew, and imagining how Jesse Mayes would look playing guitar, and singing under a spotlight all covered insweat.
“Anyway.” Devi sipped her coffee, eying me over the rim. “Long story short. I met Maggie at a party a while back. She works with Dirty as the assistant to their manager, you know, the dude with all thetattoos.”
Uh-huh. Hottie numbertwo.
“She’s involved in a lot of their publicity and whatnot and naturally we’ve been intouch.”
“Naturally.”
“She called me up last night. They’re looking to recast, but they’re having some issues getting Mr. Rock Star to commit to what he wants. Maggie knew they’d be in the neighborhood today, so she took the opportunity to haul his ass in here and have him choose one of ourgirls.”
“That’ll be some lucky girl.” I kept flipping through the magazine, but I didn’t really see the pages. I was too busy trying to picture Jesse Mayes with his shirtoff.
“Exactly. They just hired one of ourmodels.”
“Well that’s good for you,right?”
“It’s great for me. Katie, pay attention.” Devi stood, came around her desk and took the Vogue from my hands. “They changed their minds. They just called to dropher.”
“Oh. Well, that’s shitty.” Why was Devi all up in my face aboutit?
