“So I just have to pass some arbitrary test, huh?” I say with amusement.
“Exactly. Piece of cake, right?” he teases.
I snort and gather up the files to take back to my desk to study.
“Easy as pie,” I deadpan and take my exit.
“Be ready to pick him up from the airport tomorrow!” Price calls after me through his chuckles. I wave in reply and return to my desk.
We get guys like Milo every so often. Some think their staff need to “earn” the right to work with them, while others like to shop around.
Whether Milo chooses our company or not, it’s no skin off my nose. We’re kept busy enough that there will always be other work. Although a long-term assignment with a local did mean I wouldn’t be put with out-of-towners, and not having to travel all the time is a huge plus for me.
As I always do, I spend the rest of the afternoon researching my potential new client. I know he’s a big deal when I’m able to find him just by searching his first name. Adding his last name rewards me with easily thousands of articles and videos that seem to have tracked Milo’s life from the start of his singing career with a boy band called MYTHS.
I remember the news of their breakup caused a huge uproar that year, but I hadn’t heard much about their members since. That isn’t surprising since I don’t keep up with celebrity news as much as I probably should, considering I’m around celebrities more often than I want to be, if I’m being completely honest.
Nothing against them, but after years of hovering in their sphere, I’ve come to realize just how different our worlds are. I would even say those who thrive in that kind of life are made of something different. It takes a certain kind of tenacity to be under constant scrutiny.
I certainly don’t have that kind of drive. The spotlight can stay far away from me. I want to blend into the background, which aligns with my job perfectly. The best security is the one that goes unnoticed…or is as intimidating as hell to keep the unwanted away.
And as much as I wish to go unnoticed, I sit firmly in the second category. It’s the “serial-killer vibes” I give off. Or as my sister says, my default expression screams “fuck around and find out,” and I guess I should be thankful it’s kept one or two overzealous fans/haters away from whichever high-profile client I was protecting that day.
It does suck in daily life when I’mnottrying to drive people away. There’s something about me that gives off a cold and uninviting vibe, and I can’t pinpoint exactly what. My sister Riley would say it’s the psycho killer in me. I love her, but she’s full of shit.
Speaking of, the oldest of us, Raina, demanded a family dinner at her place tonight, and she’ll have strong words if any of us are late.
I quickly pack up my items and wish my coworkers a good night. I wave to Price, who’s head-deep in paperwork inside his office. He shoots me a two-finger salute before refocusing on his work.
Working in the field with clients isn’t the most glamorous, but I’ll take that over paperwork any day. My car is parked in the underground garage, a block away from the office. Despite my apartment being only two train stops away, I’ve gotten used to driving to the office in case I need to pick up a client.
Upbeat music plays on the radio as I brave the Manhattan traffic. An accident on the side of the road causes the rest of us to crawl at a snail’s pace. It’s days like today that I wonder how anyone can drive in the city. Then I remember thatIam one of those people.
My finger taps on the wheel to the beat of the tune, and a smooth male voice serenades my ears about love. I’m not sure if I believe love is possible, at least for me, but the person singing makes me want to believe that I’m not as emotionally unavailable as my exes claim I am. It’s an unfamiliar song, but one I’d like to hear again.
I glance at my phone and see the artist is none other than my new client, Milo Tobitt. I swear our phones are listening to us, and Milo popping onto my playlist just proves my point. I guess I can’t be too mad this time, considering I had already planned to listen to some of his songs.
I click on a playlist that only has his songs and continue my drive.
His music is mostly pop, with a couple songs that I consider leaning into the pop-rock category. Most of his lyrics focus on longing and love, and there’s something about his voice that makes me want to believe in the love he sings about. And I’m someone who doesn’t know if that kind of love is even for me.
By the time I reach my sister’s, I can see why he’s popular. He’s magnetic, I’ll give him that, but you kinda have to be to make it in his industry. The way he’s able to convey his emotions through his singing is certainly a talent.
My nieces are outside playing with the thin layer of snow that’s built up in their yard. There’s a projected snowstorm tonight that hasn’t started yet, so they’re probably trying to get the most out of the outdoors before it hits.
Reagan looks up from the tiny snowman she’s making, and her face lights up when she spots me. I’m her favorite of her mom’s siblings, though I secretly think that’s because I’m the only one who’ll sit through all her celebrity gossip. Riley can’t stand anything relating to the entertainment industry, and Ruben is often wrapped up in conversation with Roana about the shenanigans of the orchestra world.
“Uncle Rowan!” I see her mouth right before she swings my door open. She goes starry-eyed at the music still playing in the car. “Is that Milo? I didn’t know you’re a fan!”
“Not a fan,” I quickly correct her. She ignores me and practically falls on top of me to snatch my phone from theholder. I groan at the sudden teenager in my lap. “Oof. Hello to you, too, I guess.”
Reagan giggles like she’s completely innocent and refocuses on her task of snooping. She easily unlocks my phone—because,of course, she knows the password to my personal phone. I’ve learned not to let her anywhere near my work phone—and squeals when she finds whatever she’s looking for.
“You’re totally anItty-bitty!”
“I most certainly am not,” I protest and gesture down my body, which isa lotharder to do with a grown teenager leaning on top of me.
There’s nothing tiny about me, and I’m not playing my ego or bragging. It’s just facts. I’ve towered over everyone since I was a kid, and that hasn’t changed ’til now. It’s in my genes.
