How was she expecting him to manage that? Interrupting was his love language. “But—”
Amanda held up a finger, then reached into the mini cooler built into the center seat and withdrew a bubble tea.
So she hadn’t actually been serious about those other suggestions. This was her Plan A. “You’re showing your hand,” he said mildly, but he accepted the bribe.
“Drink,” Amanda instructed.
River did, because it was his favorite and he didn’t want it to get warm and go to waste, and emphatically not because Amanda told him to.
“Let me hire you a boyfriend.”
River tried to shoot a tapioca ball out his nose. “What!”
Holding up one finger like a scolding teacher, Amanda pushed the straw back into his mouth. Then she withdrew a napkin from her purse and handed it over. “A paid companion. A sugar baby. Someone who’s in it for the money and not the fame.”
River didn’t see how that was better than her other ideas, but when he tried to open his mouth, she narrowed her eyes, so he focused on the bubble tea and glowered halfheartedly.
“There’ll be a contract in place, obviously. NDAs, the whole nine. I’m not talking about paying him for sex either—in fact, I want a clause that specifically says he’s not getting paid extra if the two of you mutually decide you want to indulge. But his actual job is built-in accountability—he’ll stand by your side at the parties where you meet terrible people, because I know you, River. You’re not going to get a reputation as a cheater. If people think you’ve got a boyfriend, you’re not hooking up with Jorge Gonorrhea in the bathroom. He’s being paid for his time, so it’s in his interest not to screw it up. And we choose a guy who’s so far outside your type that it’s easy to keep it professional, and hot enough that no one thinks twice about it.”
God damn, she really was good at her job. That actually sounded workable. Mercenary maybe, but this was LA. River imagined one of the pretentious industry events or parties he was always attending, only this time with the insulation of a confidant. A man he could rely on to run interference between him and the blowhards, or pretend he needed River to fuckhim in the bathroom so they could avoid getting pulled into a conversation with a music video director River hated.
He raised his eyebrows, a silent question.Can I talk now?
Amanda gestured her permission.
“Where the fuck are we going to find a guy like that?”
She glanced at her watch. “We’ve got an appointment with him at Seventh Circle Management in half an hour.”
River snorted. He should have known.
Chapter Four
Sugar Daddy Over Me
“You’re noteven gonna let me peep on him first?” River whined. If she’d put this Jem guy in one of the rooms with the one-way mirrors, River could’ve taken his measure without revealing himself.
Instead, she had him shown into one of the many beige conference rooms, so River was going in blind.
“I’m not giving you an excuse to hate him before you even talk to him,” she said reasonably.
Which, okay, fine. Rivermighthave done that, given the chance. But he’d already agreed to this plan, hadn’t he? And Amanda knew him better than anyone save his own mother, so if the perfect man for this sugar-baby gig existed, she could find him. River didn’t have anything to worry about.
But as soon as he went in there, this guy, whoever he was, was going to know that rock star River Wild was actually in fact a pathetic loser who couldn’t be trusted unescorted in public.
On the other hand, maybe he should take pride in being ungovernable. That did sound very rock-star-like.
Fuck it. He couldn’t wait any longer. The curiosity would kill him. He pushed open the door and went inside.
At his entrance, the room’s lone occupant stood up. With more than twenty years of practice rolling with the unexpected on stage, River did not burst into laughter.
The man Amanda had hand-selected to babysit River was tall and broad-shouldered with floppy brown hair. He’d dressed for the occasion in dark-wash jeans and a gray henley with the top two buttons undone, showing a smattering of chest hair. Dark brown deck shoes on his feet, an uncertain half smile on his conventionally handsome face.
Hot enough no one thinks twice about it, River remembered. Check.
“Uh, hey,” the guy said, hands in his back pockets first, then brushing against the front of his jeans, then the right one extended to shake. “I’m Jem. Are you also here to meet Amanda?”
River eyed the hand—more like amitt, good Lord, what did he need with hands that size—and then shook it, bemused when Jem’s fingers reached his wrist. “Something like that.” If Jem couldn’t handle River having a little fun during the interview, he wouldn’t last five minutes at one of River’s stupid parties. “I’m River.”
