Lovely Madness (Players #4) - Jaine Diamond Page 0,24

have to try this a few times before he even let you in the door. Did he actually answer the door?” She looked so damn confused, I actually felt mildly annoyed.

Did she seriously send me over there expecting me to strike out? And she didn’t tell me that?

“No, he didn’t. I gave his cat a note to take inside.”

She blinked at me. “Freddy?”

“Yeah. I found the kitty door and sent him inside with a note.”

Okay. She was definitely looking at me like I was superhuman or something.

“Go on…” she said.

“So, he came to the door and I told him who I was, that you sent me, and he invited me in. We sat in his living room and talked. I got the feeling he was willing to entertain the conversation because he promised you he would. It didn’t seem like he was thrilled to have a visitor or anything. But he was polite. He answered my questions…” I stopped talking because the barista was back; she put my chai latte in front of me. “Thank you.”

She nodded and vanished, and I found Courteney still staring at me.

“What did he say?” she asked me.

“Not much.”

“How did he look?”

“He looked… good.”

I took a careful sip of my drink, testing the temperature, while Courteney stared at me. Pretty sure I was blowing her damn mind.

Did he really not talk to her at all?

“He seems really devoted to his work,” I offered. “It sounds like he’s looking forward to working on the Players’ album. And there’s the release party at the end, that sounded like a big thing.”

Courteney’s eyes widened. “He mentioned the release party?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say about it?”

“He just mentioned it. I guess there was some kind of party for the album he just finished working on? It was down in L.A., so maybe he couldn’t go anyway, but he seemed kind of bummed that he didn’t go.”

“He said that to you?”

“No. It was just a feeling.”

“And he said he wants to go to the release party for the Players’ album?”

“No. I could just tell.”

I watched as Courteney’s hazel eyes kind of misted over.

Holy shit. Was she about to cry on me?

“Look, Courteney. Uh… some kind of end goal like this party might be a good idea. Nothing like motivation, right?” It had occurred to me, while talking to Cary, that the album release, in general, might be just the end goal that could make this situation work. A temporary contract with an end date to keep things on track might make it feel less daunting—for both Cary and whoever we brought in to work with him. Like a trial run. “You could hire someone for a certain length of time, maybe just to work with him while he finishes this album, and help him with whatever media surrounds it, the launch party, whatever. I don’t even know what all is involved with that…”

“It’s a great idea,” she said softly.

“And if that’s the goal,” I forged on, determined to be honest with her, “then he’ll probably need someone who’s experienced with all of the above. He’ll also probably need a friend or a date or someone who can go with him to the party, because I can’t imagine someone who hasn’t left the house in five years is just going to strut into a party by himself, you know what I mean?” I figured I’d just slip that in because who the fuck were we kidding? She knew that I knew that that was what everyone said about him. If it wasn’t true, here was her chance to refute it.

She didn’t.

She just said, “Uh-huh. Could you do that?”

Oh, boy.

“I’m just an executive assistant, Courteney,” I said gently. “Your brother needs help. I mean, practice.” Shit. Tread carefully here, Taylor. “You know, with social interaction? Honestly, he probably needs a relationship coach or something. And counseling. And psychological support. And none of this is my expertise.” Did I just call her brother a complete weirdo? Because that was kind of how it sounded.

But what else was I supposed to say?

“Did he say that to you? That he wants to go with someone to this party?” She seemed really stuck on that part.

“No. I’m just saying… your brother probably needs a lot of support. None of which he seems to have right now? I don’t know why that is, but he said he prefers being alone.”

“He said that?”

“Yes,” I said gently. “He said that. He said he can’t handle a lot of people in

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