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“Oh-kay...” I say before pulling my phone out of my purse. I have probably a dozen unread text messages from Alyssa, undoubtedly probing for information about the shoot. The last few bring a smile to my face.
Alyssa: I swear to God almighty if you don’t answer me, I’m going to blow!
Alyssa: JULES
Alyssa: You better be dead or wrapped around one of those boys like Christmas lights on a Fraser fir.
My best friend may be able to hide her southern roots from everyone in the big city, but her little comments like that give it away every single time.
Juliet: We just finished. Sorry. I wasn’t checking my phone.
“So what will it be, Juliet? Are you down to party with Chaotix tonight?” Gareth asks, staring directly at Ryan.
Alyssa: Spill. Now.
Juliet: They asked me to go to a club with them tonight.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m pretty wiped out after today,” I say, trying to focus on the three little dots signaling my best friend is typing.
Alyssa: Are you fucking serious? If you say no, I’ll NEVER forgive you!
“Aw, come on. A few drinks will liven you up,” he urges.
Juliet: I can’t go out clubbing with them, Alyssa.
“I’m tired, plus my attire is not exactly club material.” I make the excuse and immediately wish I wasn’t such a buzzkill. I’m wearing my best jeans and a white blouse that hangs slightly off my shoulders. It’s a cute outfit, but definitely not a clubbing outfit.
Alyssa: Juliet Elizabeth Warren, stop being such a little bitch. Grow some lady balls and go party with the rock stars.
“I think your attire is just fine,” Gareth says, flashing me a flirty smile.
“She said no,” Ryan grits out.
Alyssa: Publicists have to be comfortable with famous people, Jules. Live a little.
She’s right. I hate that she’s right, but she is.
“Okay, I’ll go. Damn, you’re pushy,” I joke, and Gareth beams in response. Ryan has the exact opposite response to my agreeing to join them. To show his displeasure he simply lets out a grunt and walks away.
Max walks over and wraps me into a massive bear hug. “Good job, kid.” I smile into his chest. I know that Olivia has shared the big news, and I’m just as happy for him as I am for myself.
“It was a team effort,” I say, and he hugs me harder.
“How did I get so lucky? Of all the hopefuls to walk through my doors, how did we end up with you?” When he says things like this to me, it’s hard not to feel emotional.
A horn honks outside, it must be the car Ryan arranged to take them to Rafters.
“Uh, Max. I don’t need a ride. The guys asked me to go out to celebrate with them.” I feel as if I’m asking my father for permission rather than telling my boss about my plans.
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, alright. Well, keep your phone on you. Call me if you run into any... trouble.” He makes sure his message is received loud and clear by the band.
“We’ll take good care of your pride and joy, Max. No worries,” Gareth says smoothly.
Max narrows his eyes at the man.
“Don’t mind him; he’s harmless. All bark and no bite, ain’t that right, Gareth?” Ant jokes.
The guitarist uses his hands to form a halo above his head. “Guilty as charged, I’m an angel. Honest.”
