The Pool Boy - Nikki Sloane Page 0,45

suddenly felt too big for my mouth. I didn’t glance over at Erika because I didn’t want to see the disappointment in her—

Shit.

Ardy lifted a hand, signaling for me to stop, and I tightened my left hand around the fretboard to stop the strings from vibrating. My heart pounded in my throat. This was where he thanked me for my time and sent me on my way, I was sure of it. Forty-five seconds was all he needed to hear to know I wasn’t good enough.

He didn’t speak, though. Instead, he nodded to himself and stroked his short beard with his thumb and forefinger, considering. “Yeah, all right,” he announced, turning his head toward Erika. “He needs some polish, but I’m with you. Think you can have him ready in time?”

If I weren’t reeling with surprise, I probably would have thought the certainty in her voice was sexy. “Absolutely.”

“Where’d you find him?” he asked.

“He’s, uh . . . my pool boy.”

A smile widened on the man’s face and he looked at me for confirmation. “No shit, really?”

“Yeah,” I said.

She could have said she’d discovered me at Blanche’s, but this made sense too. It was hard pretending I wasn’t interested in her, but it would have been impossible to act like we were strangers. And if she had said I was her best friend’s son, her boss might have wondered about her friendship impacting her judgement.

Ardy’s amusement continued. “Did you know she’s one of my best agents? Or was it blind luck you happened to work for her?”

Was he asking if I’d sought her out for opportunity? Because I’d absolutely positioned myself to get close to her—just not for the reason he thought. I tilted my head and pulled the corner of my mouth up into a lopsided smile. “I knew she was an agent.”

“Well,” he said, “you’re not afraid to hustle to get your foot in the door and I can respect that.” He strolled toward the door. “You need some hustle if you’re going to make it in this business. Let’s get your track recorded and then we can talk about the next step.”

Everything I was feeling—the thrill making my heart ricochet wildly inside my chest—intensified when my gaze locked onto Erika. She didn’t speak, but the proud thought was loud on her face.

You did it.

I rode high the rest of the day. It didn’t bother me when Bill asked for my help in tearing out the brick fireplace at the new jobsite, or when he stood back to supervise and left all the work to me. I wasn’t irritated for once when my best friend Preston bailed on drinks to go hang out with his new girlfriend.

Nothing could ruin this perfect day—although my mom sure tried.

Since I was staying in the guest house, I came and went through the back gate, bypassing the main house completely. Maybe my mom was genuinely hanging out beside the pool, but it seemed unlikely because it was miserably humid outside, and the gnats buzzing around were always the most annoying in the evenings. When she spotted me, she stood from her patio chair.

It was clear I’d just walked into an ambush.

“Hey,” she said, putting her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes, even though she was in the shade of the umbrella. “How was work? Did you see Bill’s text message?”

“I was driving.” I pulled out my phone and glanced at it.

Bill: Just checked the schedule. We’re putting in a header on Tuesday. Can you take off Thursday instead?

Irritation tightened the muscles in my back, and I sighed loudly. My mother was just as involved in the business as my stepfather, if not more. She was the one who helped order things and schedule deliveries.

“No,” I said, assuming she knew what the text was about. “I can’t come in on Tuesday.” I thumbed out the same response to him.

“Why not?” she asked.

Because I have an audition to open for Stella Mills.

Technically for her team, who’d package the auditions and present them to her and her fans—but the artist had final say. Not that I could tell my mom any of that. Always the realist, she’d lose her freaking mind and be a buzzkill of epic proportions.

“I’ve got a business thing all day at the gym,” I lied.

“Can you do it some other time? We can’t risk Bill helping install it. You know how bad his back is right now.”

She pulled her usual routine of looking distraught. It worked on her husband,