Unintentional (7 page)

I wonder about the man who chose this particular lifestyle. He is such an enigma. He’s a brainy engineer with tattoos, but also an incredibly talented singer and songwriter. I’ve only seen him once, from a distance, but I would have guessed he live in a condo or a small house in the city.

We continue down the dock, reaching the house before Cade’s. It’s another quaint houseboat with large windows. One of the signs in the window reads, “This is a Happy Place.” I find myself hoping Cade has adopted the same sentiment. He might not be happy to see us.

We step up to the entrance, and I’m totally charmed by the
house I think must be Cade’s. It’s a one-story, brown shingled box-shaped structure with a blue door and trim. Even though it looks to be only one floor the ceilings must be at least twenty feet tall. There is a steep ladder propped over to the side, secured against the building, leading up to a roof deck. I can see the tops of some large potted plants and lawn chairs from my vantage point. He must have some great parties here. This place is really impressive. I love everything about it.

“What should we do?” asks Sophie.

“I guess we just go to the door. If it isn’t Cade who lives here, we’ll make an excuse and follow Scott around a little more.” I try to look convincing.

“Good plan,” Sophie responds.

I ask, “Are you sure you’re up for this? You were sure out of it a few hours ago.”

A smile darts across her face. “Remind me never to double up on my medicine. Although, I don’t remember much of the plane ride. That part is good at least.”

“Okay, let’s do this thing.” I start to move toward the door.

Sophie takes my arm, “So, what’s our plan, anyway?”

“We’re going to sweet talk him into signing with us. Piece of
cake.” I snap my fingers. Sophie nods in agreement. I love Sophie. She’s always game for anything.

We move a little closer to the front door, cautiously. I’m starting to get a little nervous. What seemed like a good plan a few minutes ago, now seems absurd. We don’t know this person. Maybe he has perfectly legitimate reasons for quitting the band. Maybe he won’t want to talk with us at all. Maybe… Oh, I have to quit thinking like this.

I grasp the heavy knocker and slam it down a few times. That should do it; the loud clanging could wake the dead. We wait in uneasy silence for Cade, or whoever resides here, to answer the door. I’m trying to put together a reason we’re standing at the door to the potential stranger, who may or may not answer, when the door flings open suddenly.

There he is. It’s him. He doesn’t look the same as he did last time I saw him. He looks a little…horrible, but oh, my lord, he actually looks even better. How can that be? He looks like he hasn’t shaved in days, his hair is sticking up in all different directions, and his clothes are wrinkled. But he still has those perfect cheekbones, long lashes, and full lips. I can feel the warmth starting from the pit of my
stomach, moving up throughout my body. Please don’t let him notice.

I smell a wave of alcohol wafting from inside. It smells like a brewery. Cade’s eyes are half opened. Apparently, the alcohol smell is coming directly from him. Once he gets a good look at us, they double in size. He peers at us, back and forth and up and down, more than a few times.

I’m starting to become uncomfortable with the silence. His shoulders seem to relax, and he shakes his head, like he can’t believe we’re here. Cade leaves the door open, turns suddenly, and walks toward the back of his house, waving us in. I look at Sophie in confusion. We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet.

As we enter, one thing is apparent. Cade, or whoever is living here, hasn’t done housework in a very long time. Maybe never. We walk down the hallway, which opens up the living area. There isn’t a surface not covered with pizza boxes, dirty dishes, newspapers, books, and clothes. I’m trying to take in everything at once. This house, or houseboat, is breathtaking, albeit a mess.

The floor-to-ceiling windows bring in tons of natural light. Outside, only a few feet away, kayakers paddle through the calm waters of Lake Union. The color of the lake is a murky green, but it
doesn’t distract from the beauty at all.

My eyes dart around the remaining spaces within view. If this house were clean, it would be my dream home. The huge fireplace against the southern wall has a built in bookcase surrounding it. There must be thousands of books. My hands itch to touch them. I want to know what type of books Cade reads. The furniture is overstuffed and comfortable-looking. I also notice a typical bachelor addition, a huge screen TV secured over the wall opposite the fireplace. Light colored rugs and antique tables finish off the impressive room, that is, if it were clean. I stand rooted in place. I don’t want to walk all the way in. Something’s off, something isn’t right.

Cade motions to the two side chairs placed next to the deck. “Ladies, have a seat.”

I look over at Sophie. She looks at me with the same confused expression. I give her a nod and we head over and sit down. Cade walks over, a little unsteadily, and sits on the end of the coffee table, right in front of us.

“I know why you’re here.”

I can feel myself relax. This will make things go so much easier. I look him straight in the eye. “Good. We can get right to
business.”

Cade smirks and responds. “Yeah, right. Business. Is that what you call it?”

I nod. “Yes. I know we can do a lot for you. You won’t be sorry. We have a great reputation. I’ve brought my portfolio, references, and recommendations.” I reach into my briefcase and start to remove the paperwork.

Cade stares for a moment. He looks at us strangely then closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Man, I didn’t know your ‘business’ was so organized. So, how much did Scott pay you?”

“What? Oh, no. You don’t pay us. We work on commission.” I take a good look at Cade, his eyes are still hooded, and they seem a little hazy.

Cade leans over, grabs the hem of my shirt, giving it a little tug. “If I were to do this thing, I’d pick you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sophie’s shoulders shaking. She’s laughing. Hard. What the hell? She covers her mouth, trying to keep from losing it. What is so funny?

“Sophie, stop it! What’s gotten in to you?”

She’s shaking her head. Now tears are escaping. “He thinks
we’re hookers, Laurel!” With that said, she doubles over laughing.

No way. I look over at Cade, waiting for him to deny it.

He looks at Sophie with an “Oops” expression on his face. “Scott didn’t send you?” There’s embarrassment and confusion written all over his face.

I’m madder than I’ve ever been in my entire life and seeing red. Hookers? I look like a hooker to him?

Before I my mind connects with my body, it’s too late. My hand, of its own accord, slaps Cade across the face.

I grip Sophie by the arm and say, “Let’s get out of here,” and we leave.

Cade

I haven’t felt anything in a month, but damn, I felt that. That girl has quite an arm on her. My face burns as I splash cold water over it. What the hell just happened? All I remember is opening the door to two of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. That just doesn’t happen every day. I knew Scott had something to do with it, or, at least, I thought he did. Apparently, I was wrong. Who were they anyway?
Why did they just show up at my doorstep?

I’m mulling this over when I hear Scott yelling down the hall. “Hey, Cade, we’re here! I got everyone together. We’re going to party!”

I leave the bathroom, turn the corner, and see Scott dragging a cooler in one hand while balancing three boxes of pizza in the other. Behind him are Mica, Ayden, and around fifteen other people. Some of them I recognize from the nightclub where we perform.

Oh, hell no. I grab Scott by the arm and drag him into my bedroom. I fail at my attempt to remain calm. “Scott, what in the hell is wrong with you? I told you I want to be alone.”

Scott gives me a huge grin. “I know. It’s been a month. How’s that working for you?” He hits me on the arm. “Loosen up, Cade. It’s just a few people. It’ll take your mind off things for a while.” He looks at me closer. “What happened to your face?” he asks.

“Good question, Scott. You didn’t happen to send two incredibly beautiful girls to my front door, now did you?”

Scott laughs. “No, but I would, had I thought of it.”

It’s confirmed, I’m an idiot

“I think one of the girls’ name is Lauren or Laurel or Laureli?
Something like that. Do you know anything about it?”

His brow furrows as he concentrates. He taps his finger on his head.

“Well?” I ask.

“Shh. I’m thinking.”

“Scott!” I yell.

He jumps back. “Okay, Okay. I think I might know. Just a second.” He takes out his wallet and starts rooting around for something. He pulls out a card. “Voila!”

I snatch it out of his hand. On the card, printed very clearly, is
Laurel Lawson, Music Agent
. The beautiful girl who sat on my chair was a music agent. I let this new discovery settle in my now almost-sober brain.

“I don’t want to think about this now. Let’s get this party thing over with, and you can fill me in tomorrow.” I’m going to fix the almost-sober status I’m in. The alternative would be to face the fact I just made a total ass out of myself.

Laurel

If it were possible to have steam coming out my ears, I’d currently look like a steam engine. My hands shake as I start the car. I just hope I don’t get in an accident on the way back to our hotel. Sophie is still doubled over laughing. I’ve already hit one person today; she’s up next.

“Sophie, you better stop laughing right now. I’m not kidding. This is not funny!”

Between gasps, she gets out, “I will never, ever forget the look on your face, Laurel!” She’s rocked by another wave of hysterics.

“Do you think it’s my streak?” That seems to settle her down some.

“Of course not, Laurel! I love your streak; it’s classy. Don’t you dare go thinking a streak in your hair makes you look like a hooker.” She wipes the tears from her eyes, now looking a little more serious.

My hair is light brown, but for as long as I can remember, I’ve had a bright blonde streak about an inch thick framing my face on the right side. When I was younger, it was a source of embarrassment, so I
would color it to match my natural shade. As I got older, I learned to embrace it, so I often color it to match my mood. Today, it’s red. Well, that’s appropriate.

“Seriously, Laurel, don’t change your streak because of that ass. I love knowing what mood you’re in.”

I take a deep breath. “I won’t, Sophie, don’t worry. But why do you think he was under the impression we were hookers. I mean, that’s so insulting. Aren’t you insulted at all?”

Sophie breaks into giggles again. I’m seriously going to drop her off at the next intersection.

She shakes her head, trying to control herself. “It’s so preposterous! You, of all people, a hooker!”

“Um, Sophie, he thought we were both hookers, remember?”

“Laurel, I don’t care about me. You, on the other hand, have to be the most prudish person I know. When was the last time you got—”

My eyes narrow as I stare her down.

“Oh, that’s right, Douglas. That’s got to be exciting.” She catches herself. “Sorry, Laurel. It’s just, I know you have that rule. The rule about not having sex unless you’re in love? So, I’m guessing things are stalled in that department with Douglas? And to think you
were mistaken for a hooker today!”

And off she goes again. I’m never telling her anything again

Chapter 5

Cade

“May I speak to Laurel, please?” I hear a hesitation on the other end.

“Speaking.”

I gather myself. “Yeah, uh, this is Cade.” I don’t hear a click on the other end, so I continue. “Hey, listen, I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. Obviously, I was a little out of sorts.”

Laurel’s voice is curt as she replies, “An understatement.”

This isn’t easy. “Would you and whom I assume is your assistant like to meet me today for lunch? I’d like to make it up to you both.”

Another moment of silence.

“Okay,” she finally replies. “How about Elliott’s on Pier 56? Sophie and I were headed there anyway in about an hour.”

I sigh. Tourists. “Okay, I’ll meet you there at one.” I click off. That was uncomfortable.

∗∗∗

Sixty excruciating minutes later, I arrive at the restaurant. They
aren’t here yet, so I ask for a table so I can sit back and figure out my strategy. Luckily, it isn’t as crowded as I thought it would be. Most restaurants on Alaskan Way are filled to the brim with tourists, not only for lunch, but for the entire day.

The entire area is ideally situated for travelers: there’s the waterfront, of course, an aquarium, boat tours, restaurants, ferry boats, water taxis, and souvenir shops. It has a little bit of something for tourists and locals alike. I don’t come here often, and I’m surprised I’m actually enjoying the atmosphere.

I’m seated at a table next to a huge window overlooking the sound. The smells are rich with seafood and baking bread. There’s an excited energy emanating from the many tourists enjoying the scenery for the first time. I’ve never grown tired of the views in and around Seattle, even though I was born and raised here. There’s an earthy, natural beauty not only in the city, but in the outlining areas as well.

Forcing myself to relax, I try deep-breathing as I watch the front door for their arrival. Now would be a good time to plan out what I want to say to them. I feel awful.

I hear a low whistle coming from the table next to me. I look up in time to see Laurel and her assistant make their entrance into the
restaurant. They walk in like they own the place. And they do own it. I mistook these girls for prostitutes? They don’t look like prostitutes. They look like models, the kind you see on the most glamorous fashion magazines.

Looking around the restaurant, I notice every pair of eyes are staring at them, men and women alike. Holy shit, I must have been wasted. If I could slap my own face, I’d do it right now.

Laurel’s eyes lock on mine. Something stirs inside me, something foreign. It’s not that I’m attracted to her, she’s not my type. No, it must be embarrassment.