“And some water, please?” Tyler added, raising her hand. “Sometimes wine gives me a headache.”
Kevin nodded before leaving.
Cary placed his hand on her forearm and her skin sizzled from the heat. She checked to see if it had left a mark, but it was just her imagination. If she’d told her thirteen-year-old self that this would happen one day, she wouldn’t have believed it. She was so infatuated with him back then she’d doodledMrs. Cary Kingstonin her notebook.
“Thanks for saving me,” Cary said, squeezing her arm twice. “I couldn’t remember his name for the life of me.”
“Really?” She arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “I thought you two were besties?”
“Besties?” He laughed—deep, unfiltered amusement. “No, no. It’s a road trick. If you introduce the person youdoknow, the other one usually introduces themselves. No awkwardness.”
“Interesting,” she said, pulling her phone from her pocket and setting it on the table.
“Expecting a call?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Sorry, I want to make sure the band gets in okay.” She glanced at her watch. “They had a few stops. We booked their flights on points so they’re just landing.” Byweshe meant Sebastien.
A few moments later Kevin arrived with a bottle of wine and two fancy glasses. The server poured a splash into Cary’s stemware, and with a nod of approval he continued.
“I forgot the decanter,” Kevin muttered, clearly upset with himself.
Cary shook his head. “Don’t even bother.”
“Are you ordering food?” the server asked, pouring a glass of wine for Tyler.
“I haven’t eaten all day.” Cary scanned the menu. “The appetizers, please.”
“Anything else? Any mains?”
Cary offered Tyler the menu, but she’d already eaten, not thinking it was a date.
“No thanks.” She inched up her chair. “But appetizers sound great.”
“Cheers.” Cary raised his glass to hers.
“Cheers.” She took a sip and relished the silky blend against her tongue. “I think I’m a convert.”
What’s the name of this wine?She twisted the bottle around:penfolds grange 2011.
From the side of his seat, Cary retrieved a manila envelope. “Would you mind giving these checks to Sebastien? I’ve got to fly out in the morning.”
Right. The checks for Sebastien.
She blinked, rebooting into work mode. “Chicago. I know.”
Vegas was busy, so she’d advanced the show herself. The Cary Kingston tour was a well-oiled machine—she didn’t need to liaise with production, promotion, and payment like she did with smaller acts. Just confirm the hotel rooms and stay out of the way.
He scratched his head. “I keep my personal business private from SDM. That’s why I pay my own bills and sign my checks by hand.”
“The Billy Joel episode onBehind the Musicis a good lesson for everyone.” It was reported the Piano Man’s ex-brother-in-law had embezzled 90 million dollars when he was Billy’s financial manager.
“I keep forgetting how much you know about the business.” He gave her a lazy smile. “I’ve known you for what? About ten years—”
“Thirteen.” It didn’t surprise her that he’d forgotten; he’d probably shaken more hands and kissed more babies than any dignitary in history. “I started interning when I was eighteen, almost nineteen.”
“Thirteen years.” He drummed his fingers against the table to the beat of “We Will Rock You.” He stopped mid-drum. “Tell me something about yourself.”
Where to begin? She’d never been on a job interview, although the thought was enticing.
