“Well, let’s have a little look.” The first stack I pull out is contracts for vendors and a permit to throw the event. “Is this a regular event?”
“Yeah, we’ve been throwing it every year for the last ten years.”
The next bundle lists the budget and prospective amount raised compared to the last few years. It’s steady. Nothing has changed in years.
The budget is generous and organized. That’s odd. “There’s a line item missing.”
“Huh?” Bram leans over. “Integer is usually really good about stuff like that. What’s missing?”
“Entertainment. There’s no budget set up for entertainment.”
“That’s because we don’t usually do any. The festival does well enough.”
Well enough? “Year-over-year increases barely match the cost of living. You could be making two to three times that with a big-name musician playing in the park. Not only could you charge to watch them, but they’d draw people in from several counties.”
“We talked about that. A musician with that kind of draw would cost too much for the club to risk on the event flopping.”
He’s right. The line item would far exceed all the others, probably combined. That’s assuming they had to pay for it. But I know several people who would do it for free if I asked. “What if I can add one within this budget?”
“Impossible.”
A Hestons doesn’t believe in that word. “What if I could get you one and still stay in budget?”
“That would be great, but—”
“No buts. I know the perfect person.” If she’s available.
“Who?”
“My friend, Kia.”
“You can’t mean Kia Lemaris?”
“That’s exactly who I mean. But I don’t know offhand what her schedule looks like. She’s been taking a bit of a sabbatical. If she can’t make it, there are a few other people I can reach out to.”
Bram leans forward. “How do you know Kia?”
Other than going to the same events practically forever? Explaining the insular world I lived in doesn’t sound like fun. “Um.”
“You’re blushing. You don’t want to tell me, do you?”
No. I get a tingling sensation in the back of my neck and glance over my shoulder to find his friends staring at us. “That’s weird.”
“Ignore them. They’re nosy idiots.”
He doesn’t mean—Yeah, he does. “They think we’re dating, don’t they?”
Bram shrugs. “I told them we aren’t, but again, they’re idiots.”
Today wasn’t the day for yet more men to make assumptions about who I am.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, Greer?”
“Just a little evil. Want to play along?”
Bram looks over at the guys and back at me. “What did you have in mind?”
To brazen it out and mess with a man’s mind. I lean forward so our faces are super close and trail a finger down his arm.
