anything, he looked amused. “That doesn’t surprise me in the
least.” He leaned a little closer. “Tip number one: everyone wants
something. You have to know what that is to really know what’s
going on.”
“And what do you want?” I asked before I could
stop myself.
He leaned even closer, until our
torsos touched. I was mesmerized by the look in his eyes, and the
close proximity of that full mouth I had only dreamed about
kissing. For a second I couldn’t even breathe. “I want a lot of
things. Success. Acclaim. Happiness. You,” he added softly, and
potently, as his gaze drifted to my mouth. I knew he was thinking
about kissing me, I could see it in his face.
The intimacy of the moment was
electrically charged.
I wanted to scream, “Why?” but all
words were locked in my throat. All I could do was think about the
remaining few inches between his mouth and my own. This wasn’t a
dream. It wasn’t a fantasy.
His kiss was mine to take.
The wind blew my hair across my face, and he
was quick to brush it away. It interrupted the moment enough I
could gather my wits and say, “You have a funny way of showing it,
Mr. Carnevale.”
With a chuckle he leaned in and kissed the top
of my nose. “Before you go back to Nashville,” he promised, “You
will have no doubt.”
He gave me a wink and disappeared
back inside. I stood for a few minutes, trying to process exactly
what had happened before I could muster the wherewithal to follow.
By the time I rejoined the party, both Vanni and his date had
vanished.
Somehow or another, I had let the ball volley
back over to his side of the court. He used my stunned reaction to
his amorous confession to do to me here what I had done to him in
Philadelphia.
For this, he would pay.
Though I wanted to retreat back to
the hotel room, I stayed with the rest of the band (sans Yael, who
had already split,) as well as Alana and Iris until the party was
nearing its end – which was near dawn. The champagne flowed and I
even managed to get onto the dance floor with Felix, who was
extremely animated after he had indulged in a little herbal smoke
break in one of the back rooms. Sure I could have taken the time to
interview him or Iain and actually do the work no one was paying me
the big bucks to do – something the old Andy would have gladly done
without complaint – but it seemed a lot more fun to dance to the
heavy beat with people I had only read about in
magazines.
These were the perks, as Iris
gleefully pointed out more than once, and a once in a lifetime
opportunity for this lowly writer from Tennessee. And I could
hardly complain. It was a huge step up on the social ladder from my
normal Wednesday routine.
The best part of the night was getting to know
Jacob Corey, Jasper’s fabulous assistant. He was a beautiful man of
cutting wit who knew just about everything about everyone, and was
generous enough to dish in conspiratorial whispers I nearly had to
take a blood oath were off the record. He introduced me to all
those big name celebrities I was a little intimidated to approach
on my own, and was – by far – the best dance partner of the night.
He taught my body to move in ways I never knew were
possible.
It became apparent that Jacob was
not just an assistant but Jasper’s right hand man, who
single-handedly made the entire night such a success everyone in
the city would clamor for an invitation to the next
shindig.
By the time he kissed me goodnight
at the break of dawn I knew I had an instant BFF.
In the car on the way back to the
hotel I sent a text to Vanni expressing my regret he couldn’t stay
at the party as it was loads of fun. I still had a devious smile
plastered on my face when I drifted off to sleep at about 6:00
a.m.
Iris pounded on my door by 8:00
a.m., and after a brief five minutes under frigid water I was
dressed and back out running amidst the bustling New York City
crowd.
The band wasn’t due back at the
studio until noon, so the
least.” He leaned a little closer. “Tip number one: everyone wants
something. You have to know what that is to really know what’s
going on.”
“And what do you want?” I asked before I could
stop myself.
He leaned even closer, until our
torsos touched. I was mesmerized by the look in his eyes, and the
close proximity of that full mouth I had only dreamed about
kissing. For a second I couldn’t even breathe. “I want a lot of
things. Success. Acclaim. Happiness. You,” he added softly, and
potently, as his gaze drifted to my mouth. I knew he was thinking
about kissing me, I could see it in his face.
The intimacy of the moment was
electrically charged.
I wanted to scream, “Why?” but all
words were locked in my throat. All I could do was think about the
remaining few inches between his mouth and my own. This wasn’t a
dream. It wasn’t a fantasy.
His kiss was mine to take.
The wind blew my hair across my face, and he
was quick to brush it away. It interrupted the moment enough I
could gather my wits and say, “You have a funny way of showing it,
Mr. Carnevale.”
With a chuckle he leaned in and kissed the top
of my nose. “Before you go back to Nashville,” he promised, “You
will have no doubt.”
He gave me a wink and disappeared
back inside. I stood for a few minutes, trying to process exactly
what had happened before I could muster the wherewithal to follow.
By the time I rejoined the party, both Vanni and his date had
vanished.
Somehow or another, I had let the ball volley
back over to his side of the court. He used my stunned reaction to
his amorous confession to do to me here what I had done to him in
Philadelphia.
For this, he would pay.
Though I wanted to retreat back to
the hotel room, I stayed with the rest of the band (sans Yael, who
had already split,) as well as Alana and Iris until the party was
nearing its end – which was near dawn. The champagne flowed and I
even managed to get onto the dance floor with Felix, who was
extremely animated after he had indulged in a little herbal smoke
break in one of the back rooms. Sure I could have taken the time to
interview him or Iain and actually do the work no one was paying me
the big bucks to do – something the old Andy would have gladly done
without complaint – but it seemed a lot more fun to dance to the
heavy beat with people I had only read about in
magazines.
These were the perks, as Iris
gleefully pointed out more than once, and a once in a lifetime
opportunity for this lowly writer from Tennessee. And I could
hardly complain. It was a huge step up on the social ladder from my
normal Wednesday routine.
The best part of the night was getting to know
Jacob Corey, Jasper’s fabulous assistant. He was a beautiful man of
cutting wit who knew just about everything about everyone, and was
generous enough to dish in conspiratorial whispers I nearly had to
take a blood oath were off the record. He introduced me to all
those big name celebrities I was a little intimidated to approach
on my own, and was – by far – the best dance partner of the night.
He taught my body to move in ways I never knew were
possible.
It became apparent that Jacob was
not just an assistant but Jasper’s right hand man, who
single-handedly made the entire night such a success everyone in
the city would clamor for an invitation to the next
shindig.
By the time he kissed me goodnight
at the break of dawn I knew I had an instant BFF.
In the car on the way back to the
hotel I sent a text to Vanni expressing my regret he couldn’t stay
at the party as it was loads of fun. I still had a devious smile
plastered on my face when I drifted off to sleep at about 6:00
a.m.
Iris pounded on my door by 8:00
a.m., and after a brief five minutes under frigid water I was
dressed and back out running amidst the bustling New York City
crowd.
The band wasn’t due back at the
studio until noon, so the
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