long enough to give her his what-the-fuck-is-your-problem look before retrieving his cigarette and settling it between his thin lips. “You don’t need nicotine, honey,” he said around the filter. “What you need is Valium. Or Xanax. Actually, both would do you some good.”
“Are you suggesting I need to be drugged?” she asked, giving her mother’s personal assistant the evil eye.
Julian was the closest thing she had to a non-blood-related friend. Occasionally he made her leave the house and go out on the town. Unfortunately, they always ended up in gay bars, which was entertaining enough but didn’t do much for her romantic prospects. But they weren’t crawling through stadium-event traffic to embark on a social adventure. Toni was about to get on the tour bus of the most well-known metal band in the world—hell, even she had heard of Exodus End and she mostly listened to classic rock. She’d gone from uncertain to nervous wreck the moment she’d fastened her seat belt. Just thinking about touring with the band made her stomach do summersaults, backflips, and cartwheels. She had an Olympic-level gymnastics meet going inside her.
“Did you remember to shave your legs?” Julian asked. He took a nonchalant drag off his cigarette before holding it between two fingers against the steering wheel. They were inching along the interstate at a snail’s pace. She probably could have gotten there faster if she’d walked.
Toni scowled, thinking that was the oddest thing Julian had ever asked her and the man had no filter. “Why does it matter? Did you cut off all my skirts so they barely cover my ass?” Turning her conservative clothing into ho-garb was something he would do.
Julian laughed. “Damn, why didn’t I think of that?”
As they neared the Mercer Street exit, Julian switched on his blinker to merge. Space Needle, Science Center, Key Arena Toni read on the directional signs. She was one step closer to her destination. She pursed her lips together to keep her dinner down.
“So did you shave them or not?” he asked.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, they’re silky smooth. Why?”
“So you are expecting to get laid tonight,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I thought your frumpy sweater was a little tighter than usual. Showing off the goods for a change?”
Toni’s mouth dropped open in indignation, and she slapped Julian on the head. He had so much product in his black hair that she was sure he didn’t feel the blow. “I am not showing off the goods.” She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “And I have absolutely no expectations in the getting laid department. I just don’t like my legs all itchy and hairy in my pajamas.”
“You didn’t seriously pack pajamas to wear while on tour with a rock band, did you?”
“What else am I supposed to sleep in?”
“Nothing. The wet spot. A puddle of your own vomit. Anything would be preferable to pajamas.”
She crinkled her nose at his suggestions. “You’re disgusting.”
He pulled around the back of the arena, where barricades were set up to keep the public from the tour buses parked near the back entrance. Which reminded her . . . Toni searched through her messenger bag for the packet the band’s manager had sent. It included a press pass that would get her past security. Pulling to a halt in a no-stopping zone, Julian shifted into park and turned toward her.
“Disgusting? You know you love me.” He blinked at her with sleepy blue eyes surrounded by thick dark lashes.
“Except when I hate you. Which is most of the time.” She reached for the door handle, but Julian caught her other arm.
“This is the part where I’m supposed to tell you to be a good girl and to carefully guard your heart, body, and soul from evil rock stars. It’s also where I should advise you to stay away from excessive alcohol, drugs, sex, and backstage after-parties.”
“But you’re not going to . . .”
“Hell no. You need to live it up. Your mother has you so isolated from the outside world, I fear you’ll never escape.”
“For your information, my mother doesn’t isolate me. I isolate myself.”
“I’m still surprised she let you take this assignment. It’s not like you’ll be living in the company of the Vienna Boys’ Choir for the next month. I’m sure my life is tame when compared to the exploits of a bunch of rock stars, and she’s always giving me that stare of disapproval.”