Chapter 10 Kind of hot
It’s weird but I just can’t seem to find a thing to say to him, and I had all yesterday to prepare. I’ve just thrust myself upon him and he’s doing just fine in the talking department.
But then he was better with people than I was. Hence his success, I guess. Well that and his ability to negotiate deals, and of course his looks. His gorgeous, lovely face, and his toned, tight body.
“So how have you been?” he asks me.
“Good. Great. I’m a freelance etiquette writer now, obviously,” I trail off.
“You always were a good writer,” he says.
“I was?”
I didn’t even know he thought that.
“Yeah, those stories you used to make up when you were little, and then you used to make me sit and listen while you read them back to me,” he chuckles, his blue gorgeous eyes shining with the memory.
I feel my face go bright red. “Oh God,” I groan, embarrassed. “I was so lame.”
He laughs again, louder this time. “You were seven, eh, Shia. I think we can forgive the lame.” He drags his fingers through his hair. “And of course you always loved music so it makes sense the two went together,” he adds.
My heart suddenly feels all warm and squishy. He remembers so much more than I thought he would.
“You still play the piano?” he asks.
“No. I stopped.”
I stopped playing after you left.
“I just, um, haven’t played in a long time. I fell out of it, you know. Well obviously you don’t know.” I gesture to the guitar propped up against the far wall.
He smiles. Steve reappears with our drinks.
“Thank you,” I say as Steve hands me my glass of water.
“Anything else?” Steve asks Natte.
Natte looks at me. I shake my head.
“No, we’re good, thanks.”
Steve closes the door when he leaves, leaving Natte and me alone again.
I sneak a look at him as he has a drink of his juice. It’s so weird, he’s Natte but not Natte.
And I don’t know why, but I feel so completely uncomfortable and so completely at home in his presence. It’s one of the most confusing feelings I’ve ever had.
I take a sip of my water. It’s ice cold and welcomingly refreshing.
“So I’d ask how you’re doing but…” I gesture around at the plush hotel room as I put my glass down on the table in front of us.
“Yeah.” He laughs. It sounds a little forced. He rubs his hand over the scar on his chin, I notice. “I’m great,” he shrugs, smiling, and leans forward, putting his juice on the table. I watch the muscles in his arm stretch and tense with his movement.
He doesn’t sit back, he stays sitting forward, arms resting on his thighs, looking straight ahead.
He seems a little uncomfortable now and I instantly regret my words.
How stupid could I be?
He’s not long out of rehab. His best friend died a little over a year ago. Of course he’s not okay. I don’t think all the money and nice hotel rooms in the world could make that okay.
I couldn’t have been more insensitive if I’d tried. I bet he thinks I’m a complete idiot now.
“I’ve followed your music and business career,” I say in a bright, but too loud voice, just for want of a better thing to say.
I look over at him and I can see the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. He actually looks impressed. And for a moment, I wonder what he was expecting me to ask him.
“People don’t just collaborate with me, Shia, they follow my lead. And the guys in my band, the ones that really matter, seem fine with how I run things.”
Wow, arrogant much? And kind of hot.
Crap.
“But to answer your question,” he continues. “I want my music and my business to reach the highest standard. Right now they are, and I plan to keep it that way, so if I have to push people hard and get labelled difficult or a perfectionist to maintain that, then fine, call me a perfectionist. I’ve been called worse.” He grins.
And it travels all the way through me. I have to press my knees together to stop my legs from trembling.
I scribble down the last of his answer quickly, and clear my throat. “People are saying that ‘Pea’ is your most accessible album so far. Do you think that’s true?”
“Do you think so?”
Eh?
“Me?”
“Yes. I assume you’ve listened to it.”
He’s testing me.
“Of course I have … and … yes, I’d say the general opinion is right. A lot of the songs have a softer tone than your previous albums, especially ‘Into the Dark’ and ‘Lighter.’”
Ha, suck on that!
“Good. Then the album is connecting with people like we hoped.” He smiles, and I feel a little lost.
What?
Okay, recover yourself Shia.
“So tell me, what would you be doing right now if we weren’t talking?”
“I’d be catching up with an old friend.”
Oh.
“Um…” I stumble, caught totally off guard, yet again. “Okay … it’s been a while since you toured. Are you excited to get back on the road and play live?”
He leans forward, closer to me. I want to lean back, but I don’t. Instead I cross my legs in front of me, feeling like they could somehow shield me from whatever he’s going to say next.
He was always sharp when I was a kid, quick on his feet, but this grown-up Natte is like a stallion with the cunning of a snake.
He certainly doesn’t seem like the party-loving, womanizing Natte the press portrays. Or even a man who just left rehab four weeks ago.
He seems in control. Or maybe this is just sober Natte.
His eyes flicker down to my bare legs, travel up them, and back to my face.
And there’s the hint of the flirt in him.
“Playing live is everything to me. It’s what I live for … and I have a feeling this tour will be my most interesting yet.”
“Oh really? And why’s that?”
I’m curious now. I thought this tour would be tough without Bonny.
He runs his hand through his hair. “I’ve added someone new to my team, and I know she’s going to make everything different, exciting … even better.”
She?
Maybe he’s dating someone now. But he did say team, so maybe not. Actually, he probably doesn’t.
“And this new addition, she’s not a band member, right?”
He shakes his head, lips pressed together.
“So she’s part of the crew organizing the tour?”
“I organize the tour.”
“Right. So she’s …?”
“Let’s just say she handles PR.”
Okay … moving on from the mystery woman who’s going to improve the tour.
“So, which songs on the album are your personal favorites, and what inspired them?”
Then I see the spark in his eye, and I know I’ve got him talking about the music he truly loves, and I remember that boy I loved years ago.
It makes my heart ache a little.
Focusing hard so I don’t miss a word, I switch the pen recorder as his enthusiasm spills out.
And that’s how it goes for the next thirty minutes. Question after question, I watch him come alive as he talks about music and business, just like the old Natte I knew.
It makes me miss him in the oddest way, even though he’s right here.