Page 91 of Lucky Puck
As the ladies assemble for their photo, looking gorgeous and glamorous, and I take a few pics, we unfortunately gather the attention of the other patrons. Even after I take my seat, I notice several people with their phones out taking pictures.
Kat leans in and whispers, “I doubt they even know who they’re taking pictures of.” She pats my hand.
Cherry says, “Don’t look now, Bianca, but I think you’ve gotten noticed.”
Delaney chirps in, “Of course she has. She’s the most notorious of all of us—no disrespect, Kat.”
“None taken. I wish I had her talent for promotional savvy.”
“You should hire Bianca as your agent,” Cherry says.
“Yes,” Delaney looks between us. “Why don’t you? It seems you’re a perfect match. Bianca is a fantastic agent according to Link, and you’re an up-and-coming singer with everything going for you—you definitely have the looks and poise it takes.”
“Thank you,” my best friend says, turning to me. “I’ve been thinking the same thing and floated the idea.”
“You’re all forgetting one important thing,” I finally put a stop to the snowballing idea. “I don’t have a speck of knowledge about the music industry and most importantly, I have no insider contacts.”
Delaney waves a hand in dismissal. “You’re smart enough to learn the business in no time, and you don’t need personal contacts with your growing reputation and Kat’s obvious talent and credentials.” She turns to Kat. “You really should build on your momentum. It’s exactly what your friend here has done with Brody’s career.”
Kat nods, grinning with enthusiasm.
“Are you forgetting that I already have a full-time job?”
“So quit,” Cherry says, literally putting the cherry on top of this unexpected conversation and sending my heart racing so fast I think I start looking around for the nearest defibrillator.
“What do you say, Bianca? Will you consider it? Seriously?”
“We can talk about it later. Maybe work something out.”
Brody will be pleased that I’ve taken over his rarely used den and made use of it for my at-home office. Or he would have a day ago. Now I’m not so sure, but it doesn’t matter, because it’s time for me to get back to my roots and return to being Brooks, the ace agent, not honey pants, the pretend wife of a hockey hunk.
An errant thought pops up asking me why I can’t be both. My firm answer is that I’ve tried that and it’s far too complicated with emotions I don’t seem able to control. Which leads me back to the inevitable trajectory of my career: the demise of my marriage and along with it, the end of my time with Jett and all those lucrative professional athlete contracts.
I’ve decided that even if Jett wants to keep me on and have me work with other athletes, I don’t think I could stand running into Brody and being forced to see him in public while he pursues his career and renews his rep as a man-whore. I think it just might kill me if I saw him at a charity event and he was with a supermodel. It’s happened before, and it’s bound to happen again if I continue representing other athletes, potentially even someone on his team.
It’s possible he wouldn’t want to see me either—not that I’d be with someone else—maybe because I’d remind him of his vulnerability. Because that’s clearly something he needs to avoid, that he’s protective of at all costs. Even at the cost of a loving relationship.
I’m deep into creating a list of music industry movers, shakers, and influencers when I hear the condo’s front door open.
“Brooks, you here? We got some packages.” There’s a pause and the sound of some packaging tearing open. “Shit. It’s a wedding gift.”
My stomach turns to a lead ball and plummets while my chest tightens against the displeasure in Brody’s voice. I rise, straighten my new skirt, one of those I purchased with his credit card, and realize I’ll need to leave it behind. I nearly stumble, but I go forward and find him at the kitchen island with several boxes strewn on top, one opened.
“No problem. I’ll take care of it and see that they get returned after we—after the divorce.”
He frowns. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll have someone do it.”
“You mean like your agent?”
He laughs and reaches for me, and as much as I want to feel the comfort of his arms around me, even non-romantically, I feel too fragile, as if one touch will put me into an emotional spin which may include tears. No way can I allow that. So I back away and skirt around the table to look at the boxes.
“We’ll figure it out later. In the meantime, I’ll send thank you cards.”
“Okay.” He pushes a hand through his hair, which I know means he’s unhappy. “But won’t that send mixed signals if you’re just going to return them? How about if we keep them, split them up—or better yet, you can have everything.” He tries a half-hearted grin. “As part of our fake divorce settlement.”
I try a half-hearted smile in return, but I don’t take his suggestion seriously and heave a sigh. “Heck, I don’t know what the right thing to do is.” I can admit this much. “It’s so complicated, this whole mess.” I glance up at him. “I’m so sorry I didn’t find another way to resolve the wedding ring problem, Brody. I truly am.”
“What are you talking about?” He moves toward me, backing me against the island, putting his arms around me and forces me to rest my head against his chest. His heart is beating as fast as mine, only stronger. He must be stronger because this gesture of affection is killing me, knowing it’s going to disappear forever soon.
