Page 4 of Bewitched By the Siren
“He could,” I say, then blow out a long breath. “Listen, I appreciate you stopping by and watching my show, but I’m not interested in signing with an agent. I’m happy here. I neither neednorwant to make it big.”
I use air quotes around those last three words, then give him my back. Walking toward the stage, I nod to myself when I seethe tips in my treasure chest. Flipping the lid closed, I pick it up and turn to find Brendan behind me.
Ignoring him, I head to the bar and say goodbye to the staff before heading for the exit. Memaw has already gone home. She rarely stays late anymore, now that she’s in her seventies. When I step out into the cool, briny air, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
God, I’m exhausted. I need that bath. Stat.
“The Bray Agency can make your career. You’d have a sold-out stadium tour inside two years. I’m sure of it. You’re just that good.”
Oh, God.He’s still following me.
This is so frustrating. It happens every few months. Despite my no video or audio recording rule, social media is a powerful thing. People post about how much they love my performances, and record producers catch wind of it and send their agents down to Circe Key to check me out and try to recruit me.
This isn’t even the first time one of them has tried to follow me home. I can hear his footsteps shuffling behind me, and when he inhales deeply––preparing for another attempt to persuade me, no doubt––I stop walking and spin around to confront him. A squeak pops out of me as his big body bumps into mine. I teeter backward, but his hands shoot out to grab my upper arms, steadying me instantly.
A shock powers through me at his touch, making me gasp. Brendan Howser releases me, jerking back as if I’d burned him. Did he feel it, too? Or did he just interpret my gasp as one of outrage that he’d put his hands on me without my permission? By his shocked expression, I’d say it was the former, but that’s just crazy, isn’t it? Shit like that only happens in sappy movies and romance books.
“Listen, Mr. Howser. I appreciate your determination, but this,” I say, motioning between us, “isn’t going to happen. I don’t want an agent. I don’t want to be famous. I don’t want any of it.”
With that, I spin around and pick up the pace. HopefullyMr. Doesn’t Know When to Give Uptakes the hint and leaves me alone. I don’t hear his footsteps behind me anymore, but I resist the urge to look over my shoulder to confirm he’s gone his own way. I don’t want to do anything to encourage him.
And I need to get home and into the bath. As soon as possible.
CHAPTER THREE
Brendan
I can take a hint.I can also take a direct rejection.
Not that I’m giving up. Not by a long shot. But I know when to take a step back and try to come at a problem from a new direction.
I walk behind Hali slowly, giving her time to put a comfortable amount of space between us. I don’t want her to think I’m following her. I’m not. She just so happens to be going in the same direction as my rental house.
I need to find a way to convince her to hear me out. Her show was amazing, her talent unmatched. Signing her would be a coup for the agency and has the potential to skyrocket my career. Not to mention herowncareer. Why would she not want a record deal? Every performer wants that, right? The money, the fame, millions of adoring fans…she could have it all if she’d just give me a chance to help her.
As she reaches the house I’ve rented, she looks over her shoulder for the first time since dismissing me. Her eyes widen, then narrow before she spins to face me as I approach. A deepfrown mars her beautiful face as she taps a toe against the gravel road, waiting for me to reach her.
“This is getting ridiculous,” she says, the words coming out on an angry hiss. “Stop following me. No means no, asshole.”
I can’t suppress my grin as I stop in front of her. I could see why she’d be fearful, having a stranger follow her down a dark, empty street, but she’s not. She just looks pissed.
I jerk my thumb toward the house we’re standing in front of, saying, “I’m not following you, Hali. This is me.”
Her eyes widen as her mouth forms a silent “O.” Her expression is so incredulous, I have to fight not to laugh as her head swivels, her gaze moving from me to the house and back to me again.
“No,” she breathes.
“Yes,” I reply, though I’m sure she doesn’t really need the confirmation.
Her posture stiffens as her frown returns, and through tight lips, she grunts, “Great. Just great.”
Without another word, she spins around and stalks toward the small house next door. It’s my turn to be surprised when she stomps up the steps to the front door, pulls out her keys to unlock the door, then disappears through it before closing the door softly behind her.
Did I really rent the house directly next door to Hali’s? Could I really be that lucky? Talk about fate.
My grin grows so wide, it makes my cheeks hurt. Hali was right, even though she was being facetious. This isgreat.
Whistling out a jaunty tune, I jog up the steps to my rental and let myself inside. I thought I’d have to wait until next weekend to see Hali again, but with her living right next door? I’m bound to see her every day. I’ll have multiple chances to convince her.
