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Brodie was a few inches shorter than me but long and lean, with a model-perfect profile and tattoos everywhere but his face.
What caught my attention were his intense hazel eyes and a smirk that was difficult to ignore. The guy had a magnetic presence, no question, and he fucking knew it. If he could sing as well as his demo proved, he’d draw in the fans en masse.
He’d also be easy to photograph. The press office would love him.
“How long have you been in this business?” Brodie asked me point blank.
No “nice to meet you” or any polite chit-chat. Let’s get right to it.
“Since I graduated from college.”
“You mean, like, in the nineties? Can you remember that far back?” he asked with a curl of his lip, and the rest of the guys chuckled.
“Don’t knock someone with experience or that decade. Grunge was fucking awesome,” I snapped back. “I know my shit. And when things go to shit, which they inevitably do, especially in this business, I’m the one people turn to.”
I raised one eyebrow and stared right back at him.
Go ahead, smart-ass. I can play your game.
It was second nature to me now. I was used to dealing with musicians and their gigantic egos.
Brodie’s eyes narrowed and I braced myself for a snarky response.
“I personally hired Ivan, so that should tell you everything you need to know,” Greg commented. “He’s been in this business for as long as you’ve breathed air. Like he said, he knows his shit, and he’s not going to take any of yours. You give your all; we do the same. It means success for everyone.”
The guys nodded.
Well, everyone except for Brodie. He just stood there staring at me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other business matters to attend to,” Greg stated and sat back down.
I turned to the band and decided on a friendlier tone.
“How about I take you guys out for lunch, and we can get to know each other?”
“I don’t put out on the first date,” Brodie sneered.
“I don’t date, so no problem,” I replied.
The rumble of laughter from the rest of the guys filtered through the room.
“Shit, Dee, it looks like you’ve met your match.”
That comment came from the blond one, Holloway. He was good-looking, too. In fact, they all were. Holloway also had a confident glint in his eyes that I knew meant trouble.
“We’ll see about that,” Brodie scoffed.
“Yes, we will,” I bit out and motioned to the door. “After you.”
“Favorite band?” Brodie asked me as we headed out of Greg’s office.
“The Smiths.”
“What was the last concert you went to?”
“Does it count if it was a band I managed?”
“Yes.”
