Page 69 of Ambiguous
“What’s on your mind, oh famous one?” he asks. “Why did you want to chat so early in the morning?”
I pause and run my fingers over my bare belly. “I think I met someone.”
He immediately perks up. “Did you really? This is news. Tell Uncle Jamie everything.”
Plopping down on a chair and looking out at the beach, I contemplate how to tell him about Sam. “Where to start?”
“Boy or girl? A bit of both?” Jamie’s the only one who knows my preferences.
I grin. “Boy.”
“Go on.”
“I like him,” I admit.
“Does he like you?”
I watch the waves crash outside, the Pacific Ocean immense and blue and fathomless. “I think, yes.”
“Then, no problem. Next topic.”
He makes me laugh. “You know things are never that easy.”
“A man can hope. What’s up?”
“This man is really kind to me. He’s also somewhat familiar with being in the spotlight, and he doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck about my fame or money.”
“All promising.”
“But I can’t date him because his law firm represents Lighthouse Records. And they’re a wee bit peeved with me because I’ve taken so long to write the new album.”
“How peeved?”
“I’m on a short leash now. Naught but bread and water for forty days.”
“Ah, you’ll get it done, drama queen. You always do.” James snorts. “I can’t get over the name of your label. You should come up here and see my friend’s lighthouse.”
“Is that some sort of euphemism?”
“No. I mean a literal lighthouse.” He makes an interested humming noise. “So you’ve got a thing for a man with a briefcase. Never knew that was your type.”
“Bow ties, actually. Although, come to think of it, he probably has a briefcase, too.”
“Bow ties, plural,anda briefcase. Sounds deadly dull. Are you sure this fellow has any passion in him?”
“If the way he kisses means anything—”
James screeches. “Hold the phone. You kissed the lawyer for your label? You rock and roll bad boy, you.”
“Piss off,” I mutter.
“You know I won’t tell your sordid tales.” He pauses, and his tone gets serious. “But it’s not like you to date. You must really like him.”
“I do.”
“And there’s another problem,” I say. “Or complication, anyhow.”
“And that is?”
