Color Me Crazy by Carol Pavliska

behalf. Before he knew it, he was talking. “The studio pays well, and she’s perfect for the job. And,” he added with a sneer at Josh, “I’ve been told I have a nice benefits package .”
    He was immediately covered in redhead. “Oh, Julian! Thank you.”
    The icy panic over what he’d just done thawed beneath the gratifying heat of Josh’s glare and Cleo’s soft tits pushing into his chest. He looked at Addie, who did everything she could to look elsewhere and awkwardly patted Cleo on the back. What the bloody hell had just happened?

Chapter Four
    Cleo pulled into the gated lot as Julian had instructed. She squinted through her dirty windshield at the redbrick building. Was this it? She quickly checked the address again—hoping she had it right—because this place was freaking adorable.
    It was the right place—201 Gonzalez Street! Oh, and there was Julian’s El Camino, parked beneath the branches of a pecan tree overhanging the fence.
    Cleo climbed out of her little Honda and gazed up at the three-story structure Julian called his studio and loft. Clearly a historic building, it could have been lifted right off a western movie set. A wraparound balcony hugged the second story, and a suspiciously nonfunctioning fire escape snaked up one side. Cleo shielded her eyes against the sun with her hand and looked at the windows. Which one belonged to the manager’s flat?
    A horn honked, and she jumped two feet in the air. It was Sherry pulling into the lot in the rented U-Haul. Her eyes widened as she took in the building, then she gave Cleo a thumbs-up and parked. Cleo yanked the big door open and reached in to help Sherry out. “Isn’t it awesome?”
    “Our boy’s got some dough. The rent is astronomical in this tourist district.”
    “Oh, he’s not paying rent,” Cleo said, as Sherry hopped out of the truck. “Addie says he owns this building.”
    Sherry’s eyebrows went up, and she slammed the door closed with her hip. “He’s a hot, rich musician? And you’re moving in with him? Cleo, we’d been making such progress. And now you’re right back where you started.”
    That wasn’t true. “No, I’m not. This thing with me and Guitar Boy, it’s strictly business. I’ve got Josh, remember? And the job won’t last long, anyway. I have no idea what to do in a recording studio.”
    Sherry rolled her eyes and waved her off. “It better last long enough to find another job. Let’s get your stuff inside.”
    They opened the back of the truck and gazed upon Cleo’s life in boxes. “God, I hope all this fits.”
    She’d already downsized significantly when she’d moved to New York. Surely the manager’s flat in this decent-sized building wasn’t any smaller than her New York efficiency, no matter what Addie said. Just in case, Cleo had already looked into a storage unit rental.
    The sound of tires on gravel drew their attention. Addie pulled in next to the moving truck. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, climbing out of her car.
    Cleo held out her arms, and Addie gave her a quick hug. “We haven’t seen much of you since my birthday.”
    “Yeah,” added Sherry. “And that was two weeks ago. What have you been up to?”
    “Oh, just lots of work,” Addie said. She brushed invisible lint off her shirt and glanced around the parking lot—eyes flitting about but never landing directly on Cleo’s. She and Sherry exchanged a brief glance. They’d have to dig up the dirt later. Addie obviously wasn’t offering anything up at present.
    “Well,” said Sherry, tossing a curtain of shiny dark hair over her shoulder, “what are we all standing around out here for? I want to see this joint.”
    “He’s done a lot of work to it,” Addie said, locking her door with a chirp. “It really is a beautiful building.”
    Cleo and Sherry followed Addie down the sidewalk. Conjunto music from Sunset Station across the street floated festively on the air, but Cleo checked her enthusiasm. This was a