“True. Bye, Cat. And bye to your date, sorry for ruining your date.”
“Nothing’s getting ruined except for this tablecloth. Bye, Sabrina.” She ended the call.
I stared at it in stunned silence. She couldn’t have really been doing that, could she? No. But knowing her, she totally was.
A knock at my door broke through the mental picture trying to form of her juggling so many balls at once—ha!
“One second.” I kicked the pile of sheets out of the way. My foot got caught on the fitted sheet, and I pitched forward, hopping to untangle my foot, and caught myself on the wall beside the door.
Great going, Sabrina. Why don’t I injure both my arms and end up putting the sheets on with my teeth?
A little out of breath, I cracked the door. “What do you want?”
“What are you doing?” He folded his arms across his chest and peered over my shoulder.
I squeezed my face in the opening of the door. “None of your business. What do you want?”
“Did I hear shouting a little while ago?”
“How could you hear anything over your brain-scrambling music?” My teeth clenched. I was screwed if I didn’t get these videos edited and touched up in the next forty-eight hours, and it would take me twice as long to edit them with my bum hand thanks to the man standing in my doorway in linen pants and a polo.
The sound rumbled through the apartment even now.
“Do you have someone over?”
“Why’s it any of your business if I do?”
He growled. “All I’m asking is if you’ve brought someone into my apartment.”
“Don’t you mean our apartment?” I slipped out through the door, closing it behind me.
Which caught Hunter off guard. His folded arms banged into me, smack dab into my breasts. A solid whack intensified by me shooting forward out of my room.
“What is wrong with you?” He stumbled back.
“Come on, they’re not that big.” With a grin of satisfaction at his apparent fear of breasts, I crossed my arms over my chest, giving them a nice strong shelf to sit on. My wrist wasn’t happy with the weight, but in the brace I could deal.
“And what’s wrong with me? You’re the one blasting music for hours on end. It’s surprising no one’s complained yet.” In my old apartment a vigorous walk to the kitchen in the middle of the day would be met with pounding from the apartment below.
“The soundproofing on these apartments is great.”
Unfortunately it wasn’t too great between the rooms of the apartments.
“Plus, Millie’s cool.”
My optical nerves were almost severed by the muscle strength that went into stopping that eye roll. Hot guy flirts with older woman to get on her good side. Not even original. “You know who’s not cool with it? Me, because I’m trying to work.”
“So am I.” He stepped closer.
I cocked my head to the side. “Are you testing hearing protection?”
“No, listening to bands for a New Year’s Eve concert I’m putting together.”
Did he have dimples? I couldn’t tell. Not when he was flexing his jaw like that. “Have you ever heard of headphones?”
“Have you? Noise-cancelling ones would keep you in your own little bubble.” He mimed slipping them onto his ears and swaying to imaginary music.
I clenched my teeth, trying not to let him see how much he was getting to me. Trying to sleep with his all-night dance party was no picnic.
“Or my jackhole of a roommate could be considerate and not blast his music for hours on end.”
“You’re the one who invaded my space.”
“You know what? You’re right. I have, and what does any good invader do? Stake their territory. I’ve been trying to be nice after you proved to me you weren’t above putting me in harm’s way with the grocery-store stunt.”
“That was—”
I held up my good hand. “Oh no, Hunter. Don’t backpedal now. I was happy to be the quiet roommate, seething with ill intentions.” I opened my bedroom door and slipped inside. “But now I’m thinking I’ll get a little bit rowdy.”
His face blanched in the closing gap of the door.
Good. I was glad. It wasn’t like I would trash Barbara’s place, but I was ready to make myself much more at home here.
6
Hunter
“Are you sure about this? This requires a massive amount of front-loading on expenses if we take this on.” Jameson adjusted his glasses and stared at me over his computer screen.
I twirled my pen, flipping it along the backs of my fingers from my pointer to my pinkie. Concentrating on the movement and pattern helped keep me focused and awake. I hadn’t done a big event since we’d started the company just over a year ago. SWANK was an event planning company launched in the conference room when all of us were probably having a quarter life crisis. Leo had left his career as a pro football player behind with not much money to show for it. Apparently, not everyone pulls in insane paychecks. He’d taken over the business from his uncle’s partner and we’d all jumped on board.
The company name was a combination of all out last names: Hunter Saxton, Leo Wilder, Jameson Asher, August Niles, and Everest van Konig. It had also been pointed out to us that the letters could be rearranged into WANKS, but we decided SWANK had a much better ring to it.
Leo had landed a multinational hotel chain, securing a steady funnel of corporate business. Everest worked with all the sports teams in the city for events tied to the games, which was always hilarious whenever he turned up in the office in a team jersey and a five-figure watch and Italian leather shoes. August had more wedding features in Vogue than some supermodels. Then there was me. Opening a couple clubs every few months, planning a record launch or two. I needed something big. I needed to start bringing in more high profile events.
The New Year’s Eve stadium concert was the perfect opportunity.
“Do we have the cash flow?” Everyone else had been pulling their weight. How long until they turned to look at me, wondering what the hell I was even doing here?
Jameson was our guy in the chair, keeping the ship sailing straight and charming our grumpy inherited secretary. Everyone had secured a vital revenue stream for their niche except for me.
“How many other chances would we get to be at the forefront of an event like this? Finally make a splash in the music world.”
“Did you ever think the reason Easton Events backed out and took the hit at doing it so late is because they knew it was an albatross?”
“Easton Events was on its last legs even before we siphoned off their best clients.” Leo’s fiancée—for real this time—had worked for them, and they’d treated her like garbage. Taking their clients had been a pleasure after the stunts they’d pulled with her. With my connections in the music production and nightlife scene, I could get this done. “They also didn’t have me at the helm. Five thousand screaming music fans. Some of the biggest up-and-coming bands in the world if I play my cards right.” And I always did, or had a plan with back-up plans to make sure I did. “We could have a surprise showstopper to make this a festival people are talking about for years.”