Spotlight by Eden Finley Page 0,13
at school, my phone starts vibrating, and I hate that I hope it’s the producers from the show saying I can audition as myself.
It’s a blocked number.
It could be them.
I hold my breath and barely get out a “Lyric Jones” as I answer.
“Hey, uh, Lyric.” The warm voice sends a jolt of want to my dick. It’s definitely not the producers. “It’s, umm, Ryder. Uh, Kennedy.”
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
“Hello, Ryder, uh, Kennedy.”
“This is awkward.” He lets out a chuckle. “So, I’ve been thinking.”
“Is it always awkward when you think?”
“Yeah.” Ryder’s voice is quiet. “Pretty much.”
“You calling to set up a playdate for the kids?”
“Actually, no. Well, yes. I mean, if you’re going to be Kaylee’s nanny, I assume Kaylee and Chase will be spending a lot of time together.”
I pause, not entirely sure I heard him correctly. “Nanny … You want me … to nanny.”
I have to contain the urge to fist-bump the roof of my sister-in-law’s car.
“I took Kaylee out of that school, and as much as I trust your judgment on the others, I’m thinking maybe she’s not ready. We can try again next year somewhere better.”
“Hmm. I don’t know how I feel about this. I mean, working for my best friend might be crossing lines.”
“Ha, ha. Still going with best friends, are we?”
“No one can dispute our best-friend meet-cute. What are we talking in terms of the job? Full-time for at least six months?” That would be perfect for what I need. Money and temporary.
“If she likes you and the arrangement works, yes.”
“I’m in. Do you need to see my credentials or run a background check? I can get all the info—”
“Already done. I have connections.”
“Impressive. And a little creepy.”
“Oh, I know things about you that you probably don’t even know.”
I have to be reading into his flirty tone. Have to be. “Like what?”
“Stuff …”
“What kind of connections do you have? If I say I need two producers whacked, can you do that?”
Ryder’s laugh is warm. “Scarily, I think I could. Not that I would. Another bad audition?”
“Yup. You’ll get a kick out of this. They wanted me to sing a Harley Valentine song.”
Instead of laughing his head off like I thought he would, Ryder makes a noise like he’s about to say something but cuts himself off.
I can practically imagine his mouth opening and closing.
“Are you sure you want to use me for a nanny job instead of a meeting with a label head?” he eventually asks.
My stubbornness rears its ugly head again. “I’m sure. When do you need me?”
“When can you start?”
“I have a free day tomorrow.”
“Then tomorrow. I’ll email you the details and a standard contract I used to have with the nannies on tour.”
“I’m not being cocky when I say you won’t regret this. I’ll be the best nanny your kid has ever had.”
“Hmm, we’ll see. I expect you to do all those things you said you would. Like taking her to playgroups and having her interact with other children.”
“Whatever you want, boss.”
I’m met with silence again.
“Umm, hello?”
“Call me Ryder. Not boss.” His friendly tone holds something I can’t decipher, but I shrug it off.
“See you tomorrow. Ryder.”
His name feels weird rolling off my tongue without including his last name.
I’m gonna have to get used to that real fast.
Ryder’s house is off Mulholland Highway in Calabasas, hidden behind a large gate.
Brenna, my sister-in-law, reaches out the driver’s window and hits the buzzer.
The gate slowly opens, and she crawls up the long drive. When the house comes into view, she lets out a loud whistle.
The U-shaped resort-style home is overwhelming. I stare up at the two-story beige house with a three-car garage and windows everywhere that must belong to countless rooms. It has been easy to forget how famous Ryder actually is until now. He didn’t come across as the “mansion in the Santa Monica hills” type of guy the other day.
It makes sense because, duh, Eleven, but the house doesn’t seem to fit the Ryder I met. Because talking to him for a couple of hours means I know him so well and everything.
“Let me know when you’re finished, and I’ll come pick you up,” Brenna says.
“It’s okay. I’ll get the bus, but thank you.”
“It’s no trouble—”
I give her a smile. “I mooch off you guys enough. You don’t need to be my personal taxi too.”
“Lyric, it’s not like that, and you know it.”
“The bus is good. It’s only one change and two and a half hours. Easy.”
“I’m picking you up.” She’s cute