Played (Elite PR) (10 page)

Chapter Eleven

M
el sat at the kitchen table, drinking her coffee, feeling unsettled. Yes, she’d agreed to Aaron’s proposal: one night together before the contracts were signed and the PR campaign was underway. They’d get it out of their systems, and it’d be strictly business between them after that.

Turns out, it was the most amazing sexual experience of her life. But it wasn’t enough.

She leaned sideways to peek around the doorway and watched as he tinkered with his guitar, wearing his uniform of T-shirt and jeans. But this morning he also had bare feet and bedhead—an irresistible combination. It took all her willpower to stay put and not go out there and jump the man’s bones.

When she accepted his suggestion, she truly thought it’d take care of all the sexual tension, freeing them to work without distraction. It only made it worse. Especially when they’d yet to seal the deal. She hated to think it, but really, what kind of musician didn’t have a king-sized box of condoms in his home?

She was glad—thrilled actually—that he didn’t. Still, she’d been hoping for the complete Aaron Major experience. She should’ve negotiated a better deal.

Frankie Fink would not be pleased.

There was nothing she could do about it now. She agreed that they should keep things professional from this point forward, and she respected his rules. Plus, they had work to do. Or she did, anyway.

She spent her Saturday filing the paperwork, working with Tiffany to set up Aaron’s social media accounts and get his website up and running. The design team had templates for situations like this, so she only needed an intern to customize the basics. Tiffany had been a godsend. So Mr. Aaron Major was back in the game. After all, if his every move wasn’t accounted for on social media, it simply didn’t happen, right?

Once the evening rolled around, it was time to work on the branding so she had to track him down. Like it or not. It didn’t take long to find him hiding out with his guitar on the porch, probably trying to avoid her.

“Hey.” She took a seat next to him.

“Hey, yourself,” he said continuing to play.

“That sounds good. Really good.” She could listen to him play music all day, every day. He was so soulful and…

Control yourself, Mel.

“It does?” He winced.

“Of course. You can’t tell?” She slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet up on the chair. She wanted to get him talking, not just for the work. She really wanted to know about him and his life.

“I used to think I could,” he said, “but ever since I left Nashville, I’ve been second-guessing everything. I’m not sure I do know what’s good anymore.”

Looking at him on the front porch with a guitar in his lap and the sun beginning to set behind him, it was hard to believe he ever had any doubts.

“What about your single?” she wondered aloud. “You must’ve been confident about that one. Especially to get Rita involved again.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I did know, but it took a year of picking the hell out of it before I was ready.”

“What did you do when you were with the band? You had albums coming out continually.” When she’d done her research, she was amazed at how much work they’d pumped out in a fairly short period of time.

“That was our guitar player, Jayden Jones, not me.” Hmm, she noticed that his voice changed when he said Jayden’s name.

“I find it hard to believe that you didn’t contribute at all. Don’t get me wrong, but you seem to be a little bit of a control freak.” Images from the night before began to flip through her head.

“That’s me now.” He laughed. “Back then I didn’t give a shit.”

“Okay.” She pulled out her iPad. “Tell me about the artist you’d like to be now.”

“Do you always use such a clean segue? You seem to have a knack for them.”

She wasn’t going to answer that. “I do have a branding document I’d like to work on.”

“What do you need, Sharp?”

“Since you’ve asked,” she said, watching as he rolled his eyes at her. “I need you to fill out the form, and Tiffany and I will take care of it tomorrow afternoon.”

She left him to it. But it was hard pinning Aaron down on the type of artist he wanted to be. The only name he’d given her was Casey Black, and that man was older than dirt. Not really the best example for his demographic. Still, Aaron didn’t want to be lumped in with any of today’s modern stars. And as he was so fond of saying, “I’m a person, not a household cleaner. I don’t need a brand.” She let him believe it.

For what she had planned, it might be easier that way.

Chapter Twelve

M
el stood in front of Aaron, taking in every delicious inch of him. D-day had arrived, and she was about to turn this lumbersexual into a country star.

“So what do you know about image consulting anyway?” Aaron asked as he wiggled around in the chair that Mel set up for him in the kitchen.

“Please. Do I really need to give you my resume when it comes to making things nice and pretty?” she asked, smoothing down her favorite dress.

“No, gorgeous. But I’d like to know what kind of
images
you’ve worked on in the past. Are you going to try to get me to wear purple jeans or put me in a fedora or some shit? Because I’m telling you right now, there are only two kind of hats I wear—cowboy and baseball—and that’s it.”

“What in the hell are you talking about? I’m not going to put you in purple jeans.” The fedora, however… She did have a Jason Mraz-ish page in her look book. Last night when she was trying to stay put in her bedroom, she put together all her thoughts on his look and brand. This was going to be fun.

“I just want to know what I’m in for,” he growled.

“You’re in for a good time, and if you behave, we can catch the Braves game and enjoy what’s left of the weekend.

“Just look at this.” She gestured to her own immaculate hair and makeup to further illustrate her point. Of course, she would only say such cocky words to him. Because he got her, she didn’t have to use her filter around him. And it was true—she was a master at making things, and people, look good. “What more do you need to know?”

“So you know how to dress, and yes, you are a freak of nature. The perfection of all this…” He waved a hand in her direction. “But how does that translate into other people? What are you going to change me into?”

“It’s not about
changing
you, sugar,” she said. “It’s about helping you feel more comfortable in your own skin. Making you own who you are. When people look at you, we want them to see and think:
country star
. We want you to command respect with a glance. And you are a star. Now, it’s time everyone else knows that.”

“I
was
a country star, Mel,” he said. “And that was a long time ago. Now I just want to make music so I can make a few bucks.”

“You were a wild kid with too much money and too much fame before you were ready,” she corrected. “This is why your image is even more important now. You have the outlaw past, which country music fans love, but we need to warm you up. Let them see the softer side of you. And a little more sex appeal wouldn’t hurt either.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” He gritted his teeth, his eyes already gone stone cold.

“Baby steps, cowboy,” she crooned. “Baby steps. But back to your question—I helped my sorority sisters land internships with Fortune 500 companies. Two of them are now on the Top Thirty Most Influential Business Professionals Under Thirty list”

“Atlanta list?”

“United States’ list, smart ass. And those were just friendly tips. At Elite, I’ve polished up some of the best and brightest in entertainment, sports, and business.”

“Anyone I know?” He looked up, all wide-eyed and innocent. She had the feeling he knew more than he was letting on.

“Like I’d tell.”

“I could make you.” He clamped his hands around her hips.

“This is a high-security vault.” She tapped her temple. “No way you’re getting in. Okay, time to be serious. Is there anything you need or want before we do this? One last photo of your hair or something to hang onto, other than my hips, when I start cutting?”

“Are you shitting me?” he said, releasing a loud
pfft
. He could be such a child.

“Not at all,” she told him. “This can be emotional. People cry all the time when they cut their hair. And look at you. The long locks, your facial hair… It’s hot, don’t get me wrong. But it also seems like a bit of armor. You’ve been in hiding, Aaron Major, and we’re about to reintroduce you into the world. Are you ready?”

“No.” He rolled his eyes. “But don’t let that stop you.”

She started with his hair. Mel hadn’t gone to school to be a stylist, but no one would ever know it. All throughout college she took care of the girls who didn’t have money for salon appointments, and took care of most of their fraternity brothers as well. Still, her hands shook a little. He was so gorgeous, she couldn’t mess this up. And she couldn’t trust anyone else with the job. She knew what he needed—she could picture it in her head. He still needed his crowning glory. The man had the best bed hair, the kind women would wanted to dig their hands into while he was… She didn’t want to go there. But that’s what the ladies would see when they looked at him, and it was her job to deliver that fantasy. Right now, it was too unruly, too harsh. She needed to soften his image without taking away the outlaw. The perfect combination of naughty and nice. Just as she pitched him at Elite, a little Jake Owen mixed with Luke Bryan. But better.

There was something oddly intimate about cutting his hair. The close proximity. The touching. Lord, the touching. She took slow, deep breaths to keep it together. To keep from wrapping her hands in those locks and giving a little tug. Oh, how she wanted to tug. And there went her nipples, joining in the fun.

How was she going to get through this campaign? Three weeks of fawning over this man. This quiet cowboy who she knew had a darker side. A wild side he’d shown her that first night she stayed with him, not to mention all the deliciously dirty things they’d done on the kitchen table. But he had been restrained ever since. She wondered if it took effort, or if he just didn’t find her all that appealing. After all, she knew she wasn’t sexy. She was the girl that guys liked to bring home to mama, but not the kind to warm their bed. She was everything he didn’t want. Safe. Put together. Predictable?

She effing hated that.

“So are you going to do it, or just play with my hair all day?”

“Hush,” she said, allowing herself one little pull after his snarky comment. As she did it, she felt her own little tug…right between her legs. She swore she heard him hiss.

“Dude, your hair is one of your biggest assets, and I don’t want to fuck it up,” she told him.

“Do I need to remind you that it’s not even close to my biggest asset?” he asked, his voice low and throaty, making her wet. Damn him, making her think about all his assets!

She let the comment go, hoping she’d get to see that for herself before this arrangement was over. She steadied her hand and started cutting.

The first thing she did was take up the length, combing it straight down past his broad shoulders, where it landed right between the blades. She pressed her hand against his strong back, gathering his hair between her finger tips, and made the first snip. Again. And again.

She held a handful of the long locks in front of Aaron, who finally expelled the breath he’d been holding.

“Hard part’s done,” she said, while he ran his hand down to the cut that ended in the middle of the nape of his neck.

“No shorter,” he barked, snagging her wrist in a motion that had her skin peppering in goose bumps.

“Don’t worry. We don’t want you looking like you’re going to a board meeting. I just need to shape it now. No more off the length.”

“Okay,” he said, releasing his grip on her.

She went to work creating long layers that hung perfectly. The guy had a nice skull. The fact that she found even the shape of his head appealing was a little more than disturbing. She was so screwed.

She pulled around to the front of him, a finger under his chin to lift his head. The goal was to frame his face, showing off his eyes, but also concealing them when his hair fell a certain way.

“Shake your head,” she told him and his hair mussed stylishly. She’d killed it. When he took the stage, the women were going to lose their ever-loving minds. “Okay, we’re ready to tackle the scruff.”

“I don’t do clean shaven.”

“Understood,” she said. He had no idea how much he’d be thanking her by the time she was done with him. “I’m looking more for 24-hour shadow. Rough and sexy without trapping your lunch inside.”

“Hey.” He was clearly insulted. “I’m not one of those hipsters who conserve water. I shower regularly and do not let my beard become a petri dish.”

“Still.” She prepared the hot towels and razor. “I want to be able to see the line of your jaw. As a singer, all eyes will be on your face, on your mouth especially, and we want the audience to be able to see it. So you’re going to have to bear with me. One clean shave and then once it grows to the perfect length, we’ll just trim it as needed.”

“You know I don’t give a rat’s ass about my image, don’t you?”

“I’ve come to realize that, yes, but your agent does. Your label does. So I do, too.”

Mel thoroughly enjoyed every second of handling Aaron Major, gripping his chin to turn his face in the direction she wanted as she held a razor to his face.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re enjoying this more than you should?”

“I just like to make things pretty, that’s all.”

“See!” He slammed his hands down on his legs, forcing Mel to jump back before slicing his jugular. “I don’t want to be pretty.”

“I didn’t mean it literally, tough guy. You look just as masculine as you did under all that hair.”

“Honestly?”

“Girl Scouts’ honor,” she said, keeping her eyes on his lips. “Let me finish.”

Mel needed complete concentration as she tackled the area by his lips. His plump irresistible lips. Her thumb traced the bottom one, feeling for stubble. Aaron separated them, slightly, and her knees went wobbly.

She couldn’t let him know about that. This was her last chance at being able to stay in Atlanta. Her only chance. She couldn’t blow that, no matter how badly she wanted to ride this cowboy. She wouldn’t risk it.

Thankfully, Aaron’s phone went off, providing just the distraction they needed.

Aaron flipped his phone around, so Mel could see Rita’s name in bold letters.

“Let me deal with it,” Mel said. The woman had been calling non-stop since Mel sent over all the material, but Aaron wanted to freeze her out for a while. It was a control thing, but it was time to put an end to it.

“You don’t have to,” Aaron said. “Who I hire is my business.” He had filled her in on his last exchange with Rita, and though Mel loved his appreciation of her PR role it wasn’t smart business to piss off his manager.

“Yes, that’s absolutely true,” she agreed. “But I need her. We need the whole team all-in on this. Why don’t you take a shower? You have to be itchy from the haircut and shave. I’ll make nice with Rita.”

“You don’t have to make nice.” He was stern, protective, and it had her nipples tightening under her shirt.
Real professional.

“Okay then.” She crossed her arms over her chest in an effort to conceal her inappropriate reaction. “I’ll update her on the plan and see if she has any questions.”

“Rita, it’s Mel,” she said as she picked up the call and shooed Aaron away. For once, he listened, slinking away to the bathroom. “Aaron’s not here right now, but I wanted to talk to you. See if you had any questions with the campaign.”

“Oh, Mel, hello.” Rita sounded irritated. “Don’t worry about it. If I have any questions, I’ll go to Miranda.”

Do not let her bait you.

“Unfortunately, that’s not how Miranda works.” Mel kept her voice even, struggling to keep any defensive vibe from her tone. She was beginning to detest this woman, and was sick and damn tired of people trying to steamroll over her. “Day-to-day work and questions are handled by the account lead. Plus, Miranda is traveling and unavailable for the next week.”

“Well then, I can always chat with Aaron.”

Oh, hell no.

“As I’m sure you know, bothering an artist with the marketing and promotion is not good for him. Especially as he prepares for the launch and continues to work on his album.”

“Look, Mel, while you were dealing with pimples and deciding who was going to deflower you, I was managing Aaron Major’s career. I hardly need assistance in that area.”

“Are you sure about that?” Mel fired back. “Perhaps if it was done right the first time, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Look, I don’t care if you like me or respect me. But, I do need your cooperation and assistance—with the label, with the attendance list for the launch…with anything that will make all of this easy on our artist. Or don’t you care about that?”

“That’s the only thing I care about.”

“Good. Then I’ll email you an update on the latest progress, along with a few notes that I need you to answer…by the end of the day.”

Rita agreed and then simply hung up.

Aaron was back in the very next moment. He must’ve been worried. She wasn’t. In fact, she handled the situation better than she would have expected. “How was it?” he asked, towel-drying his hair.

She pulled the towel away from him and took over the job, running her hands through his hair one more time…just because she could.

“It was fine,” she told him. “You don’t have to worry about us. We’ll play nice, I promise.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about, darlin’.”

T
here was always something about holding a guitar that put Aaron at ease. Like a toddler’s pacifier, it was comforting. There was never room for doubt or stress when he played. Even when things went down the shitter the first time around, he never resented the music. Not once. No, that was best saved for the people who set him off on the wrong path. His manager, the band he opened for, the long and willing line of women who were too available.

And there was another lie.

He was to blame. Nobody else.

Mel snuggled in on his couch—which he noticed now was decorated with fancy blue pillows—waiting to see him in action. He had unpacked, mostly. All the boxes were out back, waiting to be recycled. He’d been so busy he hadn’t realized that his place was starting to look like more of a home. As he took it all in, he found more items that weren’t his, yet seemed to belong in the space. When did she have time to do all of this? A simple painting hung on the wall behind the couch. Some sculpture thingy sat on his coffee table. Coasters, books, lamps, art were scattered about. It was subtle, but it was there. A woman’s touch. Yes, Mel did know how to make things pretty.