Page 50 of Gluttony

This is next level freaking me out.

“Did you not get my email? Sometimes I forget to hit send and it stays in draft mode.” I don’t ever do that and I know I didn’t this time, either.

“Yup, got it, but was hoping for a hard copy.” I narrow my eyes at him, not even pretending he’s not acting suspiciously.

“Something wrong with your printer?” Nothing is wrong with his printer, I can guarantee that.

“No, of course not. But there’s no need to print again if you have it already. You know, save the planet and all that.” There's that wolfish grin again. It’s equal parts terrifying and sexy enough to make me question every previous life decision.

“Right, the planet.” I keep my eyes on him as I reach for the drawer, slide it open and pick at the first sheet of paper on the pile. My hawk stare doesn’t destabilize him in the least. He’s just here, grinning and leaning against the door jamb like he’s got all the time in the fucking world. Experience tells me he doesn’t. The man is a working machine, first in and last out. Standing here waiting for me to give him a hard copy of his weekly schedule is so far beneath him, it makes this entire situation that much more ridiculous.

Without a word but with my skepticism on high alert, I extend my arm with the schedule at the tips of my fingers. Hayes plucks it out of my grasp, letting his skin linger on mine for a fraction of a second too long. I hate that I notice but at the same time, I can’t regret feeling him again.

Bringing his face closer, he darts out his tongue before spreading his lips into a mesmerizing smile that fries my brain cells for a second too long.

“Thanks, Diamond.” His whispered words, meant for only the two of us, may have changed me on a molecular level. It’s impossible, yet…here we are.

By the time I shake off the shock, he’s gone and I’m left wondering what the fuck happened to the universe and why do I like this upside down world so much?

The rest of the morning is uneventful and goes by in a flash, mostly because I’m swamped. It’s no surprise that working withbruised ribs isn’t all roses and rainbows, it’s a big old break to my normal routine, slowing me down at every turn.

“Hey, Bowie, how are you getting along here?” When I look up at almost noon, Ginny is at my door with cupcakes in hand. Ha! I knew it was her. She’s the sweetest ever and I love that she’s thinking of me.

“To be honest, it’s not that bad.” On instinct, my hand rises to my lip where the cut is slowly healing. Maybe if I stopped licking it all moments of the day, it would have time to close up and leave me alone. Then again, I’ve never listened to my inner voice so…there’s that.

“Well, I had strict instructions to bring this one straight to you.” Ginny takes the two steps necessary to reach my desk and places the vanilla cupcake on my desk. “All the chocolate ones disappeared so I hope you’re not disappointed.” Is she kidding?

“These are the best, I love them.” I’m so hungry I wouldn’t be opposed to stuffing half a dozen in my mouth. Alas, I’ll have to be happy with one. Taking a monster bite, I chew a couple of times before swallowing the sugary goodness down with my water bottle. “I can’t figure out if it’s vanilla or white chocolate—” I barely finish my phrase before the phone rings.

Ginny finger waves and steps back out, leaving me to the rest of my day where I eat lunch at my desk while putting out continuous fires. Who knew being an executive assistant to music producers could be such busywork?

The next time I look up, Orion is at my door, a box filled with documents that look suspiciously in disarray in his arms.

“Bowie, we need you to review these contracts, do a first listen to the tapes, then deliver them to us in order of what you prefer.” Well, this is new. I wonder what brought this on…

Still, I’m not going to let the opportunity pass me by. Fuck that. I’ll be the best fucking first listener that ever existed. But first…

“What exactly am I looking…or, you know, listening for?” Music is subjective, what if I have shitty taste in music? I mean, Orion is American but the twins are British. What if our countries have different definitions of good music?

“You’re looking out for something catchy. Summer will be here soon, we need a single that’ll be all over the radio and number one in downloads.”

I snort. Yeah, right.

“Maybe you should just get the queens of pop to sign on. Everything they release is gold.” Everyone knows about the QP3; three single artists who respect each other so much that they release music at intervals so they’re not stealing each other’s spotlight. On any given date, one of the QP3 is at the top of the charts. The only time they’re ever dethroned is when Rayne Over Knights releases a single. It’s like watching legends in real time and as a woman, they’re fucking empowering as hell.

“We tried, believe me. They produce their own stuff and aren’t too keen on signing with an all-male-owned production company.” He shrugs like he doesn’t care but I can tell it bugs him.

“Well, maybe you should have a woman’s touch at the top. Different perspectives and all that jazz.” With narrowed eyes, Orion stares for longer than is comfortable before setting the box on the desk and tapping his fingers on the side of the cardboard like he’s finalizing the transaction.

“Get us something gold out of this pile of shit.” No smiles, no encouragement, no lingering looks that make my panties spontaneously combust.

With a salute like I’ve just gone through boot camp, I grin. “Yes, Sir!”

That earns me a groan, and like the horrible employee I am, I beam inside at the thought that one simple word gets these guys worked up.

“Get to work.”

Who knew there was so much crappy music out there? I’m not a genius but even I can tell when autotune is a singer’s only saving grace. At first, I listened to the demos all the way through, then decided I’d wasted enough time and put the tapes in the garbage pile after only thirty seconds. Thanks to that technique, I was able to sort out a third of the box. Plus, I still had all my regular work to do so I’m counting it as a win.

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