Spotlight by Eden Finley Page 0,15
to follow him.
He leads me through a side door and down a narrow hallway to an office. This part looks newer than the rest, though. Like it’s an addition to the original building.
“Dude, you have your own recording studio?”
Glass separates us from a soundproof booth with microphones, and a glass-paneled door to my right leads to a control room.
“Built it back when Eleven was still together. Before …” He glances at the door.
Before Kaylee.
“Ah. Got it.”
Ryder pushes a seat out so I can sit and then takes one for himself. “So, what’s wrong with the contract?” He reaches for the desk drawer and pulls out a copy of the one he sent to me yesterday.
“Nothing wrong, per se, but the contract is for a live-in nanny situation, which this isn’t, and it also has clauses pertaining to tour schedules and bonuses which don’t apply to me because you don’t tour anymore. So, factoring in the live-in wage being lower than average, and touring bonuses I don’t qualify for, the base pay … in my brother’s words is, umm … shitty.”
“Shitty?”
“Like, isn’t even minimum wage kind of shitty.”
Ryder looks horrified and starts flicking through pages. “Really? Fuck.”
“Daddy said a bad word!” Kaylee yells from down the hall.
“Doesn’t sound like a whole lot of cleaning is going on in there!” he calls back.
I try not to laugh.
“I’m so sorry,” he says to me. “I had no idea.”
“It’s okay. It’s obvious you weren’t doing it to be cheap. Your previous nannies were paid really well, but the situations were different.”
“I, hmm … I used the contract my old nanny agency sent me. I guess I can’t call them and ask for a blank one so I know what to put in it.”
I reach into my bag and pull out the contract my brother drew up. “I have this. Chord did it for me. It’s basically the same as your old one, but it adjusts the wage to my situation, factoring in an hourly rate based on what nanny agencies typically charge, and then overtime clauses as well if you need me to stay late for whatever reason. Like, if you have public appearances at night or something.”
Ryder scoffs. “Won’t be any chance of that happening. I stepped away from everything when I left Eleven.”
“A date, then.”
He levels me with a look I can’t figure out. “There’s more chance of me making a public appearance. I don’t date.”
My eyes widen. “Ever?”
“Ever.”
That might be the saddest thing to happen to humanity.
The urge to ask about Kaylee’s mom is on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it back. There’s not much to find about her on the internet. Either his PR people did an amazing cover-up job or she didn’t want fame. I don’t know. All I’ve found out is she’s his childhood friend.
The tabloids claimed she was a fame whore who wanted attention, but if that were the case, surely everyone would know more about her. Others say she was paid to disappear. Then there are the rumors that the whole daughter thing is a hoax and a publicity stunt to cover the fact Ryder’s gay.
As much as I wish he were gay, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have full custody of some random publicity stunt child or give up his career for her to cover that up.
“Single by choice?” I blurt out and then realize it’s an inappropriate question to ask my new boss. “I only ask because I’m the same way. Only, not on purpose.”
He eyes me, but it’s more scrutinizing than anything else. “Please, like it’d be impossible for you to get a date.”
“You’d be surprised.”
Ryder’s brow scrunches as he gives me another once-over.
I clear my throat.
He snaps out of it. “What were we saying? Oh, right. Nights. I might need you to stay late sometimes if recording goes over schedule like sessions tend to do. I know Kaylee will be asleep, but I’d feel safer knowing you’d be here if she was to wake up or something. Artists tend to get diva-y on me if I leave them waiting. Crazy, right?”
“I can work weeknights, but I gig on weekends.”
“That should be fine. I was only booking sessions for when Kaylee was in school, but I figure by hiring you I can extend my available hours. I’ll make sure to block out weekends.”
We talk more about schedules, and I’m happily relieved Ryder’s more than okay with me keeping my afternoons with Chase.
Cars are an issue—mainly, I don’t have one—but Ryder’s