The Pool Boy - Nikki Sloane Page 0,42
like the pressure of an audition, but I’d do my best to prepare him. “We can talk specifics about that tomorrow. Can you come in at eight?”
To the rest of the artists I dealt with, eight in the morning was an unheard of time. Ungodly early for the people who were up late every night. But Troy didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, sure.”
We talked a bit more about how the audition would be handled and the web series Stella was planning to run, and true to his word, he never slipped out of professional mode. We didn’t talk about the crazy hot sex we’d had, or when it was going to happen again, or whether he was currently having crazy hot sex with anyone else.
Just the idea of that soured my stomach. After we said goodbye and I’d hung up, that was the thing that needled at me. What if I asked him if he was seeing anyone else, and he said yes?
Would I be able to believe him if he said no? He hadn’t done anything to make me distrust him, but I was plenty aware at how good he was at keeping secrets.
I focused elsewhere. Tomorrow he’d come into the studio, record a sample, and Ardy would help evaluate. Then I’d know for certain the talent I’d seen in Troy was real, and not clouded by my personal feelings.
As predicted, my pool boy and personal sex toy had left me blissfully sore. I gingerly slid under the sheets, tired but sexually satisfied for once, turned out the light, and laid my head down on the pillow.
I’d only just shut my eyes when the melody echoed in my mind. It was only a few notes, barely two measures, but I blinked in surprise. And as I stared into the darkness of the room, the melodic line fleshed itself out and took further shape. I heard it as plain as day, the up-tempo music with a sexy, playful vibe.
Like Troy in the form of music.
I bolted upright in the bed, reaching blindly for the lamp switch, and blinked rapidly against the overly bright light as I clicked it back on. I was breathing hard, but sat utterly motionless, worried if I moved, the music would flit away like a scared bird.
But it stayed.
My heart lurched forward with excitement as I launched myself from the bed and hurried toward my home office where my acoustic guitar waited for me on its stand.
A new song.
TWELVE
Troy
Warbler Talent was easier to find than a place to park once I got there. I considered driving my Jeep right over the Toyota Yaris someone had parked like an asshole, taking up a space and a half of valuable street parking. Which was impressive because the car was stupid tiny.
It was too early for that shit, but I tried not to get pissed off because this meeting was important. I grabbed the strap on my guitar case and crossed the quiet street, heading for the agency’s entrance.
I was in jeans and a button-down shirt and already sweating, but it wasn’t the heat causing it. It was normal for my nerves to act up right before a performance, but usually it was more excitement than anxiety.
Today was . . . different.
One bad show wouldn’t hurt me. It definitely wouldn’t make or break whatever ‘career’ I thought was possible for me. But this? If I sucked or didn’t impress Erika’s boss, she’d pump the brakes on the whole thing. I understood this was an audition I had to nail before I could get the real audition.
The floorboards of the entryway creaked as I came in and I liked the sound of it. Maybe because it sighed with age and history, rather than the gleaming floors I’d spent most of last week helping Bill install. And by helping, I really meant doing. He was using me as a crutch more and more.
In the main room, there was a girl sitting behind the desk facing the front door, and the groan of the floor drew her gaze up from her phone. She was pretty, with light brown hair down past her shoulders, and a face full of perfect makeup. She seemed to be about the same age as I was. If I weren’t so focused on the woman I’d come here to see, I might have labeled this girl hot. But today I was completely uninterested.
It was clearly not the same for her. The girl’s gaze swept over me and her face lit