Coming into Focus, page 7
“Aw, Jimmy, you’re the best,” I said. “You would hire a fired, alcoholic, kid-killing detective for me. See, you don’t need any high-tech tools. Apps like these are for amateurs.”
“I could handle a ransom situation, obviously, but what if you get roofied and leave with some guy? You’d need me to come save you, but how could I if I didn’t know where you were?”
“Where are we going that I’ll get—no, never mind.” I handed him my phone. “It’s fine. I don’t even care if you put it on there.” Mostly because I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to do it.
“Let’s install it on Eric and Oliver’s phones when they get here,” he said, logging into the phone and frowning at it.
A few minutes later, he handed me a fully stalker-wared phone. I set it on the nightstand, then he gestured for my personal phone. I gave it to him and waited as he doctored it.
“There. Safe and sound. Now stop being ridiculous. If you get lost, I’ll find you.” His voice gentled. “Everything is fine. Anyway, if you need to fuss over someone, you might start with me. For example. Does my skin seem moisturized to you? It feels parched.”
“Parched is a bit extreme,” I said, “but you don’t look fully moisturized. Maybe we should do masks.”
“Agreed. We should do a hot towel shave on me too.”
“Sure. If you ever grow a beard, we definitely will.”
By the time we’d done masks and conditioning treatments, it was time to order dinner. I had to double-check the schedule for tomorrow and make sure he didn’t have any new emails. I also needed to update their Instagram, tweet something, and order him some new notebooks since his songwriting book was almost filled.
He’d done it on purpose, the whole thing with the masks and the detective story. He wanted to distract me.
That made it even sweeter.
Chapter Eight
I’d thought I would never get used to the luxury of Jimmy’s world, but I did adjust pretty quickly to our way of travel. Tucker drove us everywhere in a big cushy car. She never talked, never interacted with us at all, and it was like Jimmy and I were in a pod of privacy. We talked for hours.
If he was working on writing a song or he fell asleep, I’d stare out the window and absorb everything. I’d never really traveled at all, and now it was a whirlwind. In a different state every few days. After our first few trips, I left my camera bag in the trunk. I couldn’t imagine asking Tucker to stop to give me some time to photograph anything other than Jimmy, and I certainly didn’t have a shortage of pictures of him as it was.
I’d given up much hope of working on my portfolio, and I assumed he had forgotten about it until we were in New Orleans. He announced we were going out for the night. “Wear something delicious, Willa, because I’m sure we’ll be photographed together. It should be something you can work in, because Jimmy Who Loves You got you a press pass for The Regrets concert tonight!”
My mouth dropped open. “You did not.”
“I did! Are you happy with me? I called Hawk and pulled strings for you!”
I’d have been even happier with him if he’d taken care of the photo clause, but it would have been ungracious to mention it, so I didn’t. I jumped up and gave him a hug, then packed my camera bag.
Jimmy chose our outfits as I researched The Regrets online and learned what I could. I didn’t have much experience—okay, any experience—doing onstage photos, but I trusted myself to learn on the fly.
“Oh, look!” He was holding some mysterious leather studded rings. “I forgot we bought these! You should wear these tonight.”
“I have no idea what those are,” I said absently.
“Garters, Willa. Remember? In the cool store in… wherever we were. I don’t remember. I said we should get you these in case something awesome came our way. You said, ‘Whatever you want, Jimmy, because you yourself have so much style and panache, and I’m lucky to have your guidance.’”
“Mmhm. Sounds like me. I say ‘panache’ a lot.”
“I got you those cute stockings to go with them! You have to wear these tonight. They’ll peek out and be so cute! This leather is badass. I’ll wear my leather jacket! We’ll be perfect together. We should have gotten a matching one for you, but there’s no time now.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Willa, are you listening to me?”
“Mmhm. You betcha.”
“What should I wear other than my jacket? I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”
“Okay, Jimmy.” I didn’t have a flash powerful enough to do any good; I would have to do the best I could with ambient lighting.
I’d probably use my 50 mm fixed lens, but I threw in a zoom lens just in case. What the hell, I’d pack my flash. My bag was going to be heavy, but I didn’t want to need something I didn’t have.
I lost track of time as I packed, unpacked, and repacked my bag, but some time later, I surfaced when his pants rang. Trousers, Willa, I imagined him correcting me. He wasn’t in the room, and the shower was running.
I dug through the pile of clothes he left on the floor and patted around until I found his phone. I checked the display. “Hi, Oliver, this is Willa. Jimmy’s in the shower. Can I have him call you back?”
“Oh! It’s you. The American. Wow, hi.”
My lips curved into a smile. His voice sounded startled but every bit as delicious as last time. “You’re surprised I’m here.” I went to where I’d been sitting at the desk and dropped back into the chair.
“Noooo, I just… yeah. Yes, I’m surprised you’re still there. Good on ya.”
“Mmhm. Want me to have him call you when he gets out, ye of little faith?”
“Maybe it’s you I need anyway. I can’t get into Insta. I called Eric, and he can’t either. He said he called the band phone, and nobody answered, so…”
I glanced back at my camera bag. “Sorry. I was distracted. Yeah, I changed the password.”
“Right, what is it?”
“Sorry. No way.”
He hesitated. “‘Sorry, no way,’ like, one word? Any caps?”
“‘Sorry, no way,’ as in sorry, there’s no way I’m giving you the password, Oliver.” No matter how lovely your voice is, and despite the fact I’m already pretty sure I can trust you more than Jimmy.
“What? You’re not going to give me the password… to my own band’s Instagram account?”
“Right.”
“I just want to post—”
“I’ve already fallen for that. Jimmy ‘just wanted to post’ something, so I gave him the password then had to take down a nude, which wasn’t as tasteful as he seemed to believe, and reset it again.”
“I want to—”
“Out of the question.”
“Willa, be reasonable. I’m not Jimmy.” The way he said my name was a purr.
Thank goodness I was unmoved by it. “Maybe you’re as bad as he is. How would I know?”
“Google me. I’m considered the reasonable one.”
“Have you ever dealt with Hawk when he’s disappointed?”
He gave a startled laugh. “Um, yes. I’ve probably done it a fair bit more than you have at this point.”
He didn’t need this job the way I did, though, and he wasn’t expendable. “Send me whatever you want posted, and I’ll be happy to do it for you right away as I do for him, and I’ll do for Eric.” I paused. “I mean, not, like, do it for you. Or for him. Or Eric. I meant I’d post the pic—you know what I mean. Don’t make it weird.”
“Not the one making it weird.” There was music in his voice like he was smiling. “I’ll send it to you in a minute. Tell Jimmy hi for me.”
I ended the call and dropped Jimmy’s phone back onto his clothes pile. I glimpsed myself in the mirror on the way back to the desk. I was flushed, and my eyes were sparkling. I shook my head to clear it.
It would have been easier to keep him in the employer zone if he’d sent me a different picture for their feed.
I opened the message when my phone buzzed. Let me know if this is okay or if you want Eric to retake.
I tapped back a response. It’s fine. I’ll post now.
It was a close-up of his hands. Black and white, loosely holding drumsticks. It was a perfectly drummer-y picture.
His fingers were perfect. Long, but strong. Not pretty—callused and roughened from all the hours I imagined he spent practicing.
It was a good thing I was aware of how stupid it would be to get a crush on someone based only on their voice and hands, or I might have been tempted to believe I was getting a crush.
What a relief that I was a grown-ass woman, not a getting-crushes-on-musicians-teenager.
Maybe I should Google him. Seeing him might snap me out of whatever this was. I opened a tab to search for him, but then Jimmy rejoined me. We got into a debate over what I should wear when we went out, and the phone sat neglected on the desk.
~ * ~
The concert in Louisiana was something special. The Regrets were on the cusp of making it huge, the air was electric, and I was relieved to be back behind the camera. If Jimmy kept his word and fixed my contract, I’d be able to sell these pictures—with my name attached. This would go a long way toward proving myself to Uncle Ken. Or proving myself to myself since from my Uncle Ken’s point of view, being related to him was qualification enough. It was a huge night for this band, and I was there to capture it. I’d be part of music history as more than the Woman Who Made Sandwiches for Jimmy Standish.
After the show, I jostled my way through a mass of happy, sweaty bodies and went to find him.
He was at the back of the bar at a tall table, talking to someone. It took me a minute before I realized who it was.
It was Benny Walker.
Benny. Walker. The lead singer of Apostolic.
My mouth went dry, and my heart pounded. All the noise and chatter surrounding me faded away. Jimmy gestured me over when I caught his eye, but I was locked in place. When I didn’t move, he said something to Benny and then came to me. “Willa! Benny Walker is here, and he’s lovely! Come meet him!”
I hid my face against Jimmy’s shoulder. “We have to go.”
He tried to jiggle me loose. “I can’t hear you from there.”
I raised my head. “It’s Benny Walker.”
“Right. I just said that. Are you paying attention to me? He’s so nice! We have loads in common. I told him everything about you. Come meet him.”
I stared at him like he was insane. “I can’t talk to Benny Walker.” I shifted so Jimmy blocked my eye line to the Man. “Oh God. Benny Walker Benny Walker.”
He held my face in his hands. “Willa, what are you doing right now?”
“I love him so bad. I need to go.”
Like Jimmy, Benny was wearing leather pants and a leather jacket. Unlike Jimmy, he was Benny Walker. I wanted to reach for my camera, but the Benny Walkerness of him kept me paralyzed.
If I had pictures of him, I didn’t even care if I wouldn’t be able to sell them. I would keep them for myself. I would line my bedroom walls with them.
If I could sell pictures of him, it could be a career-maker. Any music magazine with a photo budget would buy them in a heartbeat.
It was moot anyway. I wasn’t mobile enough to operate my camera.
Jimmy, unable to honor the moment, was still talking. “I want you to help me understand this. You woke up with all this, and you experienced nothing at all.” He gestured at himself. “No stirring in your nether regions.”
It was enough to interrupt my hysteria for a moment. “Please never, ever say ‘nether regions’ again. Do not.”
“There was nothing. No spark. No longing. No sweet, sweet ache that could only be soothed by—”
“Not a thing.”
“That guy—”
I yanked his arm. “Don’t point at him!”
“Benny does it for you.”
I closed my eyes. “Oh God. He does it so hard for me.”
“You have odd taste in men, Willa,” Jimmy said. “I mean, he is lovely, but he’s at least twice your age.”
“Is he looking over here?”
“I’m sure he is. I’m Jimmy Motherfucking Standish, darling. He probably can’t take his eyes off me.”
“He probably already forgot about you,” I said. “I can’t breathe. I need to go.”
Jimmy’s eyes were wide. “Holy shit. What is happening to you right now?”
I took a deep breath and fanned my face. “Oh, God. It’s so hot in here. I feel weird. My stomach dropped out. I want to lick his teeth. Or, like, squeeze him. What’s happening?”
He leaned down to look more closely at me, then smiled broadly. “Well, hello there, Willa’s libido! There you are! I was starting to wonder if you even existed, and here you are, announcing yourself with such drama.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “Do not panic. When a woman has special feelings for a man, her body goes through chemical reactions to prepare her to receive him. This is perfectly natural. It’s biology, darling. Don’t be afraid. Trust your body. Listen to your nether regions.”
“I need a drink. I need air. I need to go. I need to eat… his entire… self.” I frantically searched for a waiter who could bring me a drink.
Without another word, Jimmy led me toward the back of the bar, closer to Benny Walker. “You’re going to meet Benny Walker, and if you eat him, we’ll handle that when it happens. One thing at a time.”
He dragged me to Benny’s table, and they talked. I don’t know. Words words words. I have no idea. Their mouths were moving.
Benny said, “Are you hiding a girl behind you?”
“She’s not a girl,” Jimmy said. “She’s a small woman, and I’m not sure what she’s doing. Willa, come here.”
I couldn’t.
He yanked me forward and said, “This is my Willa.”
Benny. Smiled. At me. “Hello there, Willa.”
We were frozen in a tableau: rocks stars and the regular woman.
With an exasperated sound, Jimmy pulled my arm up and held my hand out to Benny. “Shake his hand, darling. There you go.”
Benny drew me into a hug. My face landed between his neck and shoulder. He smelled like cloves and heat. I swayed when he released me.
Oh God. I had to speak. “Big fan,” I said. “I am one. I love you I mean your music. Songs, voice.”
He laughed but in a nice way. “Your girl likes me.”
I shook my head emphatically. “Not his girl. My own girl. Woman.”
“What?”
Jimmy frowned with worry. “She used to be quite articulate. Did you break her?”
“She’s cute. I like your garters, sweetheart,” he said to me. “Badass and sexy at the same time.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. I hid behind Jimmy again.
“Let me order a round,” Benny said. “What are you guys drinking?”
“We have to go,” I whispered to Jimmy’s back. “I can’t do this.”
“Bourbon for us. Neat for me, rocks for Willa.” He whispered to me, “Listen to your nether regions.”
Jimmy and Benny talked and drank, besties already. They had a lot in common, and they both had the swagger that comes from knowing the world finds you captivating. I couldn’t deny the only thing more magnetic than either one of them alone was both of them together. It was the opportunity of a lifetime.
“Hey,” I said like it was just occurring to me. “How about a few pictures together?”
“Willa! What a great idea. Isn’t it a great idea, Benny? Her camera is right here. When she’s not with me, she works for Offstage Magazine. She’s a professional.”
“Oh, Offstage? Have you met Hope Harper?”
“I have.”
Benny leaned close. I imagined licking his face but stifled the urge—barely. “She hates me,” he confided.
“Who? What?”
“Hope Harper,” he said. “She loathes me.”
It was a fact. She did. “I’m sure you’re imagining it,” I said.
“I’m not. Did you read her review of my new album? It was brutal. Let’s do this, gorgeous. Offstage owes me some good press. Can we go somewhere more private?”
We discovered we were staying at the same hotel. Benny gave us his room number.
I imagined telling eighteen-year-old Willa that Present Willa had Benny Walker’s room number and did a fangirl scream, but only in my head.
~ * ~
I woke up in the morning back in our own hotel room, hungover to the point I thought I might die. I groaned.
Jimmy stirred next to me. “Are you finally awake?”
“My head hurts, Jimmy. And my everything else.”
He turned to face me, then winced. “Wow. Okay. I’m don’t say this to be rude, but hungover Willa is a real fright. I’ve never even… this is not your best moment. What is happening on your head? Your hair is shocking right now. I’m nearly at a loss for words. Do you feel as bad as you look? Not that you look terrible, but—yeah, no, you look terrible. You’re pasty but green at the same time. I’ve never seen this particular color on a person.”
I closed my eyes again. “I will give you a million dollars if you stop talking.”
“I already have a million dollars,” he said, “and I know for a fact that you do not.”
“Hurts,” I groaned.
“Poor Willa. I hope it was worth it. Benny is not gentle, right? My lips are bruised. No one has ever gone at my mouth the way he did.”
I shot to a sitting position, knocking him off me. My head ached like it would split open, so I carefully lowered myself back down. “What happened last night?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember!” He was horrified.
I frowned. “Bits and pieces. It gets foggy. Did I get pictures? I got pictures, right?”
He ignored my question. “You’re welcome for getting him primed for you. It was only a special favor. Don’t expect me to do it every time we come across a man you fancy. This was a special exception, brought on by my inability to help myself.”
