“You can be your own hero and have one helping in the wings too. That doesn’t make you less brave or in control. But if you need me to be a villain in your story, one that’s right in front of you that you can touch and hit, one you can spit all your pent-up vitriol at, then fine. I’ll be that guy. But really, you need a job and we need an assistant. It’s truly as simple as that. This is not some made-up job I’m offering to you out of charity. Our last assistant betrayed us, so we’ve been gun shy on pulling the trigger to hire another one. But we’re working on finishing up our sixth album, and next month we’re going on the road for ten days, playing six shows each in different cities. So yeah, we need help. This is not a temporary position either. We’re looking for full-time help, but your schedule is flexible unless we’re traveling because then we’ll need you with us.”
“What does a band assistant do exactly?” she asks, her voice soft but strong. Just like the hand that’s still pressed against me. That is until she drops it, holding on to her broken arm again. But the sear of her touch on my flesh lingers. Unexpected and unwanted.
“A lot of different things. Basically, whatever we need.”
“Elaborate, please. Whatever you need is a very loose and dangerous phrase.”
“Making sure we eat when we’re working in the studio because if we get really deep into something, we sometimes forget. Arranging our hotel rooms for when we travel. Taking over our social media posts because we’re not so great with that. Doing whatever Marco, our manager, needs extra help with. There’s a lot more to it but I can’t think of everything off the top of my head. A lot of it just sorta comes up organically. Does this sound like something you could manage?”
She swallows thickly and nods. But there is excitement brewing in the back of her eyes. She wants this. “What else?”
A strange cocktail of resolved peace and wild frustration war through me. My pulse jumps and I wish I didn’t react to her the way I do. I wish I wasn’t as drawn to her as I already seemingly am.
“You’ll get a phone, iPad, and typically a car allowance because we need you to have reliable transportation. But since you can’t drive with your broken arm, you’ll travel with me or the guys until you lose the cast. We also provide full medical coverage as part of your salary. We will require you to sign a non-disclosure agreement as well as some other legal documents, I’m sure.”
“I want my living expenses while I stay here taken out of my pay.” I shake my head, but she stops me quickly by saying, “That’s a non-negotiable term of employment for me.”
“Okay. I’ll have to talk to Marco about the specifics of your salary because I honestly don’t know. I’m guessing around six figures all said and done. Are you saying yes to the job?”
She licks her lips and smiles, her face glowing like the brightest of stars in the night sky. “Yes. I’m saying yes. I’d be a fool not to.” Then she laughs, sinking her teeth into her lip like this is all too much. “How can one of the worst nights of my life lead to one of the best days of it?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer to her rhetorical question. Instead she spins on her bare feet and heads in the direction of the house.
“Come on, Keith. I’m starving and I’m sure you must be too.”
She goes inside, leaving me here to take the minute I find I suddenly need. Talking about Amy got me all spun around. Dealing with Maia seems to have done the same only in the opposite direction. I’m dizzy and disoriented. Unsure how I’ll ever be able to right myself and find my way again.
Especially when the woman now living in my house already has me lost in her spell, a place I have no business being.
10
Maia
* * *
After we came back inside, Keith heated up a frozen pizza and we ate while chatting about nothing all that important. But his sudden and unexpected change in disposition set me on edge. Something had noticeably shifted in him from when we were in the driveway to that moment only a matter of minutes later.
He was distant. Almost rigid. Not only that, he refused to so much as look at me.
And just like that, doubt instantly began to creep through me.
I spent the rest of the day wondering for about the hundredth time if he regrets all he did for me. If I’m more of a pain in the ass than what he wants to deal with. I haven’t been making it easy for him, and it’s something I vow to work on.
All he’s trying to do is help me. Not take away my independence or keep me as a kept woman. If anything, I’m a burden to him. And if I am going to accept this job and his help, I need to learn when to quit.
After our late lunch, he went and did his thing, and I didn’t want to be in his way. Not only that, but I also didn’t feel comfortable anywhere in the main living spaces, so I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening up in my room.
It feels weird to say that. My room.
Nothing in this big, gorgeous house is mine.
My night was spent tossing and turning. Hurting and sad and feeling so lost and lonely. So out of place in the world. A lone ship in hurricane waters, my chances of making it through unscathed nearly impossible. Or maybe this is the start of something new. Something better.
The sound of water splashing wakes me out of the few hours of sleep I managed, and when I clamor to the window, I find Keith doing laps in his pool like an Olympic athlete. Strong, powerful, broad strokes slice effortlessly through the water. He’s impossibly easy on the eyes and impossible to look away from.
But it’s the hour that’s giving me pause. It’s barely seven in the morning.
Is he always this early of a riser or is there something pressing on his mind?
He doesn’t quite seem to have the quintessential cliché rock star life. Maybe I’m overreaching here, but I always assumed guys like him had a harem of women clinging to them, wearing bikinis and nothing else while bottles of empty liquor are littered about.
Or maybe I’ve just seen too many movies.
I dress quickly as best I can in a sports bra—since I can get that on myself—and a flowy coral dress that hits around my mid-thigh. I’m hungry and if Keith is in the pool, now is a good time to go and find myself something to eat. It’s strange intentionally trying to avoid him and though on one level, I’m extremely disappointed I feel the need to do that, on another, it suddenly seems like a necessity.
An awkwardness that wasn’t there before descended upon us.
Or maybe I’m just reading too much into this and the situation at hand. I don’t exactly have a lot of experience with men and certainly not men like Keith Dawson.
Padding barefoot down the stairs, I skid to a halt when I find a man with creamy mocha-colored skin, dark hair, and dark eyes looking at me. He’s wearing coral skinny jeans—the same color as my dress—a white shirt that contrasts brilliantly against his gorgeous skin color and a smile. He’s sipping his coffee, perched on one of the stools at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, his scrutiny appraising and genuine.
“‘Morning,” he drawls, his gleaming white smile growing as he eyes his pants and then my dress. He stands, setting his mug down to come and greet me. “I’m Marco Morales and I like you already since we both have fabulous style. I manage Wild Minds. You must be Maia since you’re young, beautiful, and the only woman here.”