All Note Long by Annabeth Albert

phone.”
    â€œBeen a bit busy.” No way was Lucky answering any unknown numbers after the day’s event.
    â€œCan we talk for a moment? I have a . . . proposal.” She was about as convincing as a used car salesman with a three-wheeled Chevy Nova, but Lucky led her to the hallway anyway. No way did he need anyone overhearing her putting the shakedown on him.
    And three minutes later, he was thanking himself for seeking privacy. Apparently she was a publicist named Gloria, not a lawyer, and she laid out a plan that involved Lucky getting even more involved in this mess. It was the most harebrained plan Lucky had ever heard of, and he’d heard some whack PR strategies. “You want me to play boyfriends with Michelin Moses? For reals?”
    â€œNo. For show. And you’d be handsomely remunerated—”
    â€œWhat the heck?”
    â€œYour English is terrific. That word means paid—” Gloria slowed her speech, enunciating each word. Yeah, of course she saw a Hispanic dude and made typical rich white lady assumptions.
    â€œI was born in Cali, thanks. And I know what bank means. What I’m not clear on is why your boy still thinks he can buy my ass?” Even after all that had happened in the last twelve hours, it still smarted that Michelin hadn’t been the shy, sweet guy Lucky had taken him for. Part of Lucky was sad, because he really had wanted to get to know that guy better. Too bad he was a mirage.
    â€œOh, you wouldn’t be sleeping with him.” She waved her hand. “Or at least that would be between the two of you to work out—”
    â€œGee, thanks. And no way. I thought I made it clear to your guy that I’m not for sale. Not for any price.”
    â€œThen think of the publicity if you don’t want money. The spotlight would help your . . . career.” Her tone said exactly what she thought of go-go dancers. “He’s a pretty low-key guy, but Michelin knows all the right people. He can make things happen for you.”
    I can make things happen for you. He’d heard that before many times from Walter-the-snake, and then more recently from guys wanting a way into his pants. He knew full well how awful that trusting those words could make him feel. And no way in hell was he signing up for Michelin to be his sugar daddy. The guy had already tried to toss money Lucky’s way; maybe he hadn’t actually meant to buy Lucky, but he’d made his disrespect of dancers clear. Not to mention Michelin came with more baggage than the carousel at LAX. And he was old. No thanks.
    â€œNo way. Sorry. Not worth the hassle.” Someone had violated fire code again by propping the emergency exit door at the end of the hallway open with a brick, probably to try to get some air circulating back here. The crack in the door beckoned Lucky, made him want to make a run for it, away from this whole mess.
    â€œThe hassle? Do you understand what Michelin is dealing with here?” She changed her tone from coddling to stone cold. The hallway was stuffy and hot enough to make Lucky sweat even with the cracked door, but she looked remarkably unfazed.
    â€œLady. No offense here, but I’ve got paparazzi camped out on my lawn. I lost a whole night’s tips thanks to your guy. I’ve got two coworkers whose asses need kicking.” And yeah, that hurt. Dwayne and Rod were in no way friends, but they’d still taken his money and lied to his face before turning around and selling the story, probably before Lucky even walked in his front door. He’d been had. No way in hell am I playing the fool again. “I’m sorry as heck that he got outed like this, but not my problem. I got my own shit to deal with.”
    â€œYou’ll regret this.” She made a clucking noise. “What could I say to convince you? Things are already in motion—”
    â€œThe hell? You thought my cooperation was that sure? You try