else, it’s unprofessional to call me by a nickname,” I say, keeping my voice firm and steady.
“So was kissing me considered professional then?” Beau asks bitterly.
“ You kissed me , not the other way around,” I inform him.
“Yeah well, you let me kiss you…twice. And do I have to remind you about what happened in the hallway? I would say we’ve gotten pretty intimate,” Beau grunts, crossing his arms over his large and muscular bare chest.
Did the man ever wear a shirt? Christ!
I feel the heat rise up my face from both embarrassment and anger. Angry at myself for letting all of that happen in the first place and anger toward Beau for throwing it back in my face. I don’t bother responding because really, what can I say? I just get into the car and slam the door shut, starting the engine and driving away. I glance in the rearview mirror and see Beau angrily bang his fist on the hood of the beat up blue pickup truck that had been parked next to me.
I sigh. I will not let him get to me. He can be mad all he wants. Maybe it will help him get over his little crush. He still has three days before having to come back to New York. Hopefully by then he will have cooled down and things can get back to normal, or as normal as possible.
I go right from JFK airport to my office at Big Time Inc., who provides managers not only for musicians but also for actors, dancers, and writers. When I get there, Danielle hands me a stack of messages at least an inch thick. I can only gape at it. Danielle winces and promises to bring me a cup of coffee. I go into my private bathroom and freshen up some. I redo my makeup and brush out my hair before pulling it back into a bun at the back of my neck. Thank god I’ve left extra clothes here, just in case. I change into my spare outfit then go out to tackle the pile from hell.
Every message is in regards to either Renegade’s promotional tour or their world tour. It takes me hours to get back to everyone who has called. Once that is all taken care of, I go over a few contracts that have been faxed over before calling it a day and heading home.
I walk in my front door, kick off my shoes, and drop my keys in the bowl on the console table. I head into the living room and plop down on the couch next to Denny. He chuckles at me and drapes his arm around my shoulders.
“Hey there, Lizzie. Doing okay?” he asks.
I rest my head on my shoulder. “I’m beat.”
“Long couple of days, huh? How was West Virginia?”
“Green…really, really green,” I mutter.
Denny hums. “And how was Beau?”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” I grumble.
Dennis nudges me with his shoulder, making my head bounce. “Come on, now, you know you can talk to me. What happened?”
I groan and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees before dropping my face into my hands. “He kissed me, Denny.”
“And?”
“It was incredible,” I whisper, hating to even admit that out loud.
“Okay, so why is that bothering you?” he asks, placing a comforting hand on my back.
“Because I wanted it to suck!” I huff, pushing to my feet to pace the floor in front of the coffee table. “I don’t want to like him; I don’t want to want him!” I whine.
“Why not? I don’t understand what your beef is with him,” Denny says, shaking his head in confusion.
“Denny, he’s seven years younger than me - seven . Say we get together and we’re going good for however long and then suddenly he realizes that…oh shit, my girlfriend is old…I’m Beau Kennedy - I can get any girl I want, I don’t want this thirty-five year old when I can have a twenty-five year old,” I say, lowering my voice mockingly, while waving my arms around as I talk.
“Ahhh, so that’s what you’re afraid of. You think he would eventually trade you in for a younger model,” he says in understanding then leans back
“So was kissing me considered professional then?” Beau asks bitterly.
“ You kissed me , not the other way around,” I inform him.
“Yeah well, you let me kiss you…twice. And do I have to remind you about what happened in the hallway? I would say we’ve gotten pretty intimate,” Beau grunts, crossing his arms over his large and muscular bare chest.
Did the man ever wear a shirt? Christ!
I feel the heat rise up my face from both embarrassment and anger. Angry at myself for letting all of that happen in the first place and anger toward Beau for throwing it back in my face. I don’t bother responding because really, what can I say? I just get into the car and slam the door shut, starting the engine and driving away. I glance in the rearview mirror and see Beau angrily bang his fist on the hood of the beat up blue pickup truck that had been parked next to me.
I sigh. I will not let him get to me. He can be mad all he wants. Maybe it will help him get over his little crush. He still has three days before having to come back to New York. Hopefully by then he will have cooled down and things can get back to normal, or as normal as possible.
I go right from JFK airport to my office at Big Time Inc., who provides managers not only for musicians but also for actors, dancers, and writers. When I get there, Danielle hands me a stack of messages at least an inch thick. I can only gape at it. Danielle winces and promises to bring me a cup of coffee. I go into my private bathroom and freshen up some. I redo my makeup and brush out my hair before pulling it back into a bun at the back of my neck. Thank god I’ve left extra clothes here, just in case. I change into my spare outfit then go out to tackle the pile from hell.
Every message is in regards to either Renegade’s promotional tour or their world tour. It takes me hours to get back to everyone who has called. Once that is all taken care of, I go over a few contracts that have been faxed over before calling it a day and heading home.
I walk in my front door, kick off my shoes, and drop my keys in the bowl on the console table. I head into the living room and plop down on the couch next to Denny. He chuckles at me and drapes his arm around my shoulders.
“Hey there, Lizzie. Doing okay?” he asks.
I rest my head on my shoulder. “I’m beat.”
“Long couple of days, huh? How was West Virginia?”
“Green…really, really green,” I mutter.
Denny hums. “And how was Beau?”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” I grumble.
Dennis nudges me with his shoulder, making my head bounce. “Come on, now, you know you can talk to me. What happened?”
I groan and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees before dropping my face into my hands. “He kissed me, Denny.”
“And?”
“It was incredible,” I whisper, hating to even admit that out loud.
“Okay, so why is that bothering you?” he asks, placing a comforting hand on my back.
“Because I wanted it to suck!” I huff, pushing to my feet to pace the floor in front of the coffee table. “I don’t want to like him; I don’t want to want him!” I whine.
“Why not? I don’t understand what your beef is with him,” Denny says, shaking his head in confusion.
“Denny, he’s seven years younger than me - seven . Say we get together and we’re going good for however long and then suddenly he realizes that…oh shit, my girlfriend is old…I’m Beau Kennedy - I can get any girl I want, I don’t want this thirty-five year old when I can have a twenty-five year old,” I say, lowering my voice mockingly, while waving my arms around as I talk.
“Ahhh, so that’s what you’re afraid of. You think he would eventually trade you in for a younger model,” he says in understanding then leans back
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