Blitz (Emerald City/Black Family Saga Book 1) (5 page)

I let out a fierce yawn stretching my legs and arms in opposite directions. It isn’t until I register the aroma of dark roast coffee and cinnamon that I realize I’m not alone.
 

Shit. I pull the cover over my head. What the hell did I do?

I hold my hand over my mouth in a vain attempt to…I don’t even know. Mask my breathing? Hide myself? Pretend I’m not here?

Did I bring someone home last night? And not even home, but back to Reese’s? What was I thinking?

I take a quick inventory of my state of dress, realizing I’m in nothing but my underwear.
 

Damn it, Sydney.

Who was I even with? What did I do?
 

I was drinking. I was definitely drinking. A lot too. And it must have been the hard stuff, because I’m not a lightweight and I don’t remember a thing.
 

Wait, no. I remember…kissing. Yes, I was definitely kissing someone. It was a good kiss too. Fucking amazing if I’m being totally honest. I was really into. Like really into it. And so was he if I’m not mistaken. He kissed me like my lips had the power to reveal everything there is to know about me. It was like that kiss alone was the best thing to happen to him in years. Who the hell was the guy who mouth-fucked me and flipped something inside me that made me want to…?
 

Oh, shit. Ray.

I shake my head, like I could possibly work some kind of time-erasing magic. I pass my fingertips across my bottom lip and can’t even help the sigh that escapes.
 

I kissed StingRay Carlson. I definitely kissed him. I remember now. Practically throwing myself on him like I had no sense. What was I thinking?

I stifle a groan. It was that stupid drama queen. Justice’s girlfriend. The one who can’t keep it in her pants. All I’d wanted to do was prove a point. Show him he could trust me with his reputation no matter the stakes.
 

He was being such an idiot, carrying on a conversation with the trickiest trick in the industry. Doesn’t he watch TMZ? Hasn’t he seen all the footage of Justice throwing down with dude after dude over his wanton, attention-whore of a girlfriend? What was he even thinking? He wasn’t. That’s why I had to step in and think for him.
 

But why the hell did I have to sleep with him? Really Sydney?

“Are you ever going to come out from under there? Or are you too ashamed to show your face, you little skank?”

I freeze. Was that…?

“Seriously, Syd. I know you’re awake. You can’t hide under there forever. Besides I want details. Do those Carlson lips really do what every girl in the country is imagining they do?

Slowly, I remove the blanket from my head and sit up, offering Ronnie a half-smile.
 

“There’s not really much to tell,” I say. Considering I don’t remember anything except for the kiss. “It was…nothing. Just business.”

“So I heard.” Ronnie’s grin is broad as she holds out a cup of coffee. I take it between both hands and hold it under my nose.

“You’re pretty resourceful, Miss Bucco,” she continues, plopping down on the edge of the bed. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Learned from the best after all. Reese would be so proud.”

“Reese would kick my ass.” I groan and drop my head. “Especially considering how things ended with her and Neil.”

Ronnie rolls her eyes. “Ray Carlson is no Neil Baxter. At least from what I can tell. Adorably clueless yet, at the same time, capable of giving you a sunburn that’ll last weeks.” She giggles and sips her own cup. “If you could have seen what I saw last night…” She sucks in a long hard breath. “Every chick in that place wanted to be you. Me included.”

I clear my throat and swing my feet to the floor. “It was nothing. I was just…I was trying to do damage control and, I guess, things got a little out of control.” I squeeze the bridge of my nose. “Please tell me you weren’t here all night.”

Ronnie frowns. “Of course I was.”

“You...” My mouth drops open and I clamp it shut before closing my eyes again. I place the coffee down on the table beside me and pull the thin sheet covering my legs up around the pushup bra that’s working hard to give me cleavage I don’t normally enjoy the pleasure of having.
 

“I’m so fucking embarrassed. I…Ronnie, you know me. I don’t normally—I mean I didn’t mean to—I didn’t plan on—did he at least stay the night?”

I don’t know why that’s the only thing that comes out coherently or why it seems to be my top concern right now.
 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Ray,” I say. “When did he leave? Was it one of those wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of things?”

Ronnie snorts so hard, she covers both her mouth and nose. The dark liquid splashes onto her lap and she jumps, causing more of it to slosh onto the floor. “Damn it, Sydney. Look what you made me do?”

This time it’s my turn to frown. “What’s so funny?”

“You thought you and Ray…?” She smirks. “I hate to break it to you but you didn’t get that lucky. He didn’t spend the night, sweetie.”

I splay my hand across my chest and let out sharp sigh. “Oh, my god. Seriously? I didn’t sleep with him?”

“Don’t you think you’d remember an event like that?”

I shake my head. “I barely remember anything. Just kissing him and then it’s pretty much a blur.”

“Didn’t I tell you to slow down on the bourbon before we left? I knew you were drunk but I didn’t know you were that far gone.”

“You have no idea how relieved I am? I totally thought I went there. I mean, not that I wouldn’t. Not that I was thinking about. But I woke up all confused and half-naked and I just thought…” I shake my hair out and pick up my cup again taking healthy gulp of java. “No way I’d actually be that stupid though, right?”

Ronnie shrugs. “I guess. But that kiss was something. Poor Ray didn’t know what hit him.”

“Better than the alternative I guess.”

I stand up allowing the sheet to drop as I stretch my limbs again. “I’m going to grab a shower and get back to work.”

“On StingRay?” she asks with a laugh.

I head toward Reese’s closet and start rummaging through her drawer of sweats. “I’m done trying to convince that guy I’m worth his time. I know Reese. She’s not an idiot. She must have had something in place to prevent this kind of thing.”

“Something like what?” Ronnie asks, leaning up against the doorjamb.
 

“Like a contract or a verbal agreement or I don’t know something. She’s been whispering sweet football nothings in his ear for god knows how long. There’s no way she’d let him slip away that easily.”

I grab a pair of high-waist black dress pants, a white button up tank top and a starchy-looking blazer.

“I doubt it,” Ronnie replies. “She didn’t actually make the pitch. House rules and all. She had to wait until his final game. But then the stupid accident happened…besides, didn’t you already look for some type of contract?” I brush past her and scoop up a towel from the linen closet. “And weren’t you ready to admit defeat just yesterday?” She asks as I make my way toward the bathroom.

“And didn’t I get the world’s best pep talk from the world’s best party planner?” I turn back to face her. “I’m not giving up now, Ron. I can’t. Yesterday I was bummed. Today I’m inspired. I’m going to find a way to get in his good graces if it’s the last thing I do.”

“I don’t know, I think you may have already done that.”

I launch a pillow in her direction and she dodges it.

As much as I want to give up, I can’t just roll over now. I can’t let Reese’s dream twist down the drain. I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror as I tie my hair back into the ballerina bun.
 

I’m going to find something that binds us to Ray Carlson. Something that’ll make him sign with her no matter what.

I roll over and hold down the power button on my phone. No doubt it’s immature of me to be ignoring Jimmy’s calls, but last night was a disaster and he wasn’t even around to witness it. The bastard never resurfaced after the pretty blond hooked her claws in him. And after Sydney blew out of the VIP section, I couldn’t track her down in the crowd. So I spent the rest of the party-well at least the next two hours of it—doing what I usually do: holding up the damn wall.
 

Over the years, I’ve promised myself I’d make more of an effort to fit in or whatever, but it hasn’t been easy. I’ve lived a sheltered life. There were no high school parties and dances. No dates. No anything really. Just quality time spent with my overprotective family who was determined not to let me turn out like my parents. Gone.

I groan and scrub my hand over my face. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her. But of course I didn’t recognize her. She looked like…

I let out a forceful sigh and push up to a sitting position. I glance down at the poke between my legs and can’t help but laugh to myself. She looked that good. Nothing like the nervous wreck who showed up at the restaurant hours before, not that she wasn’t cute then too.
 

There’s a knock on the door and it swings up before I have a chance to respond.
 

“Ray, I—”

“A little privacy? Jeez!” I grab my pillow and hold it over my crotch.
 

Aunt Sheila turns her back but doesn’t bother to close the door. “I thought you were awake. I just wanted to discuss plans for tomorrow.”

I grit my teeth and stand up making my way calmly toward the door. I close it gently and brace both hands against it taking in a deep breath. “What about tomorrow?”

“Ray, I’m really sorry. I could have sworn I heard you moving around up here earlier.”

That gives you the right to just walk in? This is exactly why I don’t miss living at home. The dorm at UDub beats this ranch and my tyrannical parents any day.
 

“I went to the bathroom,” I say, grabbing my sweats from the back of my desk chair. “What about tomorrow?”
 

“The pitch dinner. I know Miss Clarke isn’t well, but we’ve been planning it all this time and I figured there was no harm in going ahead. With some obvious changes, of course.”

I pull on the last leg of my pants and swing the door open. “What changes?”

She crosses her arms, looking up at me with one of her bright smiles. They’re usually impossible to say no to, but I get the feeling I won’t have any trouble this time.

“Well, no matter what’s happened over the past few weeks, I still think Baldwin & Mahr is a great fit, don’t you?”

I frown. “Yeah, of course I do. I’ve always wanted to sign with Miss Clarke, you know that.”

“But she doesn’t exactly have the ability to take care of you right now. So I was thinking…” She clears her throat and steps into my room. “I had a conversation with William Mahr yesterday and I think, if you want, you should definitely stick with your original plans with one slight change.” She turns back to face me. “Sign with him, Ray. The draft is coming up, you need the representation and to be honest, Miss Clarke’s contact with you over the years hasn’t exactly been ethical.”

“She never made a pitch, Mom. You know that. She’s just been a friend.”
 

She smiles so softly that I almost want to just shut up and let her decide, like I always do.
 

I called her Mom for the first few years of my life. It wasn’t until my eighth birthday, after I found out that my real mother—her sister—had died a few years earlier, that I stopped. I never did it to hurt her. Just because I felt guilty about what my mother would think if she ever knew. So I spent the next three years forcing myself to call her Auntie instead. I did the same thing with my uncle. It was him who convinced me calling them Mom and Dad was okay. He said that’s exactly who they were and it’s what my real parents wanted, for me to be with two people who would treat me like I came from them. So I relented. But it was never the same after that. Ever since, I’ve slipped in and out of endearments never quite being able to settle on one.

“What about that bottle of crystal-studded vodka she sent?”

“That was a misunderstanding, you know that. And she already apologized. Her assistant…”

“Oh you mean that one that ambushed you yesterday?”
 
She reaches up to cup my cheek. “Mr. Mahr thinks—”

“Mr. Mahr just wants to make money off me.”

“What difference does it make? It’s the same firm.”

“That’s not the way it works. If I sign with the firm and not the agent, he can hold me to that. It’s not like he’s just going to sit around and wait for her to wake up. It’s not like he’ll just be filling in. He’ll be in charge of the contract. His firm. And I’ve known Miss Clarke forever. She’s never offered me money or representation, just support. I’m signing with her. I’ve already decided.”

“She’s in a coma, Ray.” Aunt Sheila throws her hands up.

“Sydney isn’t.”

“What?”

“Sydney Bucco. Her assistant. She’s perfectly fine. And her pitch yesterday was solid, until you ran her out of there before I even had a chance to respond.”

“And whose fault is that? She wasn’t even prepared. She clearly doesn’t know how these things work. Even so, is that what you want, sweetie? Someone who runs at the first sign of trouble? She left because she was scared. She couldn’t handle the pressure because she’s not cut out for it. You need someone who’d be good under pressure. It’s as simple as that.”

“I think she’s great under pressure.” I work to keep the smile on my face from getting out of control as I think of last night.

“Oh, good lord, Ray. Don’t be a man about this. Yes, she’s cute, but honey—”

“She’s also smart and gutsy. You’ve got to admit that.”

Aunt Sheila sighs. “Please, just think about this.”

“I have. Like you said, we’ve been planning that pitch dinner for months. Miss Clarke is in the hospital but her assistant is fully mobile. And she’s interested. I think the least we could do is hear her out. Besides I owe her.”

“What could you possibly owe her for?”

I shrug and reach for my jersey. “She’s good in a crisis.” I grab a towel from my closet and tuck it into my waistband. “I’m going for a run. But tomorrow night, yeah? I’ll make sure Miss Bucco gets the invite.”