“I thought you were a good lawyer, but I guess not.”
“I’m a really good lawyer.” He sounds offended.
“Isn’t negotiating part of your job?”
“Yes . . .”
“That bargain sucks. Food and money don’t outweigh country club and Presley.” Especially not after Bryce. We’d never gone to a country club. I didn’t think that was a real thing except for on TV until Josh brough it up. But Bryce’s family was the kind that would belong to a country club if there was one near them. But only if it was a stuck-up, snobby country club.
“That’s a good point.” He snaps. “Double. I’ll pay you double your gig rate.”
“Man, you reeeeeeally don’t want to confess that you lied, do you?” But he’s got me thinking. Twice as much is pretty good money, and I could easily pay for the shirts. Plus, we have songs on some of the streaming services we recorded by converting the pool house into a makeshift studio. I’dloveto hear what we could do if we had studio time with one of Austin’s better producers. This money could buy us that time.
“It’s not that,” he says. “I’ll eventually confess to my parents. But I have tried everything to get through to Presley and JP that she and I are not going to happen. I’ve said it different ways. I’ve said it multiple times. She doesn’t want to hear it.”
“Maybe you’re being too subtle. Or nice,” I add. Josh does come across as nice more than anything.
“I haven’t been subtle, but rude isn’t an option. I have to get Presley off my back without JP firing the firm. She’s their only child, and he’s made a point of doing whatever it takes to make her happy.”
“Doesn’t sound healthy.”
Josh sighs. “I know I’ve made her sound like a nightmare. To be honest, she’s not that bad with anyone else as far as I can tell. But she has a blind spot where I’m concerned, and I don’t know what else to do.”
I can hear the high level of stress in his voice. I don’t want to take advantage of that, but he’s askinga lot, so if I’m going to seriously consider this—and weirdly, I am—I’m going to ask a lot too. “We’re talking a thousand bucks here.” Let’s see if he blinks at that.
“Fine.”
No hesitation. He doesn’t even sound concerned. “Rich people,” I mutter.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“No, you said, ‘Rich people.’ I’m not saying it’s right that attorneys make more than nurses, but we do. And now I’m giving you a chance to take some of that money, eat good food, and do me a solid. So what do you say?”
“No.” What kind of person says yes to that?
He groans and drops his head to his forearms resting on his railing. I gather my self-righteousness and my quilt more snugly around me and settle into them both.
He lifts his head again. “You’re missing the most important part of this equation.”
“What’s that?”
“You’d get to spend the whole night sticking it to a bunch of rich people.”
That makes me pause. “Hmm.”
“It’s really good steak.”
“I do like steak.”
“And a thousand dollars.”
A chance to fund band T-shirtsandpotential studio time? Plus good steak?
I stand up and hold my quilt around my neck like a royal cape. “All right. I’ll do it.”
“Yes.” It’s a whisper shout as I slide open the balcony door. “You won’t be sorry.”
