Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

LENNIE

P ayton and I were finishing up our dinner when my phone rang.

It was Regan. I tapped my phone.

"Hey Regan, what's up?"

"Are you able to work a shift tonight? I'm sorry about the short notice, but Valen's sick, and Petyr too. They probably picked up a stomach bug in Vegas. I hope no one else on the team comes down with it."

I didn't want to leave Payton, but duty called. "I didn't think there was anything on the schedule today. Is there a last-minute event going on?"

"Sort of. It's an escort for Evert Jackson, the photographer who's been hired for the world tour? He's got a gallery showing tonight, and there will be press in attendance. His contract includes a detail for any events this year."

"Right. Any issues?"

"No, it's a standard contract. It's a private event, but he's been known to hit the clubs afterward. Door to door, you know the drill. Nine PM pickup. I'll text you the address," Regan replied.

"Okay. I'll be there."

"Thanks, Len. Apologies for interrupting your evening."

"That's all right."

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Anything else?" I asked.

"How did your appointment go today?" She asked.

"I'll tell you in person tomorrow."

"See you at the studio at noon."

I tapped End and put the phone down on the counter.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna eat and run," I said to Payton. "Work. I've got to escort Evert Jackson to an event tonight."

Suddenly, I worried that maybe history was going to repeat itself. Maybe Payton wouldn't want to deal with my crazy schedule, either.

"Duty calls," he replied and took a sip of his wine. "That's the nature of our jobs."

I chuckled, my nerves easing. "That's exactly what I thought when Regan asked me to sub. Valen and Petyr are both sick with a stomach bug."

Payton picked up his phone. "I'll text them and see if they need anything."

"That's sweet. Thanks."

"You don't need to thank me."

I leaned over and kissed him softly. "I'll be late. Until probably two or three. Is it okay if I come back?"

"You better." He smiled and stood up. "Hold on."

Payton walked over to the kitchen and grabbed one of the ceramic containers on the counter. He opened the lid, reached in, and pulled out a set of keys. When he came back to sit beside me, he placed the keys in my hand.

"The parking garage code is 5712. The blue one is the key to the building, and the red one is for my condo."

I gratefully pocketed the keys and reached for him. The kiss I planted on him was hard and quick, but no less potent than any touch between us.

"I'll see you later, Angel."

"Be safe."

I grabbed my phone and headed for the door. By the time I got to my car, Regan had texted Evert's address. Then I sent Valen and Petyr a quick group text.

Lennie: Regan gave me the lowdown. How're you guys feeling? You need anything before I report to work?

Petyr: Puking my guts out like I'm back in basic training, but I'll survive. Thanks, though. Appreciated.

Valen: I think I'm over the worst of it, but still nauseous. BTW, your husband texted us. Said to call him if we need anything. That's a sweet man you have. Hold on to him.

Lennie: I intend to

With that done, I got on the road. Evert lived in a condo complex only fifteen minutes from Payton's. It was one of those boutique buildings, a restored warehouse that housed a small number of exclusive condos.

Once inside, I buzzed Evert and took the elevator to the fourth floor. When I knocked on the door, the photographer in question answered it, phone to his ear, waving me inside.

He looked like one of his celebrity subjects, with long, blonde hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and copious tattoos running up his arms. And his place was as dramatic as I'd envisioned. Eclectic furniture was crammed into every nook, with photographs and paintings filling up the walls, floor to ceiling. Loft ceilings that were easily fifteen feet.

"Yes, I got the invite." Evert paused and ran a hand through his hair as he talked. "And no, I won't be going. You know how I feel about this whole thing. They wouldn't talk to Zachary when he was alive, but now, suddenly, they want to make a big deal out of memorializing him? No. I refuse to talk to those people. They're toxic. And that's the end of it. I have to go."

Evert tapped on his phone and shoved it in his pocket. Then he ran his hands along his forearms, his bracelets rattling.

"Sorry about that. Personal shit that has the worst timing ever."

"No worries," I replied. "I could've waited in the hallway."

Evert shook his head. "I'm going to be traveling with you and the crew for months on end. I'm sure by the end of it, you'll know all my secrets."

"Bodyguards are like lawyers," I replied. "We hear the confessions, but we keep our mouths shut."

"Good to know." Evert nodded and offered a smile. "It's kinda strange for me to have to have a bodyguard. I guess this means I've hit the big time."

"With the tour coming up, there's a lot of fan and media frenzy. Best to be safe."

Evert's phone rang again, but he ignored it. "I need to change. Do you want water or anything before we leave?"

"I'm good, but thanks."

"Make yourself at home."

Evert nodded and disappeared down the hallway.

I walked around the living room, taking in his enormous collection of artwork. Most of them were photographs that captured celebrities, musicians, and the like. There were lots of professional shots, album covers and the like, and candid pictures too. But the apartment had a strange feel to it. It was more like a gallery or a showroom than a home. Or maybe it was me. Not that it was any of my business.

Less than ten minutes later, Evert reappeared, minus his glasses and ripped jeans. Instead, he rocked leather pants, a pinstriped vest, and cowboy boots, his hair neatly braided down his back.

"I can't get over the number of photographs on these walls. I assume they're all yours?"

Evert's smile disappeared completely. "No. Not all of them."

When he didn't say any more, I realized that I'd touched a no-go zone.

"We better get going," I announced, changing the subject. "You don't want to be late."

"I'm an artist, that's a given."

I headed for the door and waited in the hallway while Evert locked up. On our way to the elevator, I noticed he was rubbing his left forearm. Nervous habit?

"So, you excited for the tour?" I asked.

Evert nodded. "I am. I've done a lot of shoots at concerts and events, but never a full world tour. You?"

"Not on this scale. Wayward has reached next level fame. And Killmine, the band they're touring with, is awesome too. One thing's for sure, it's gonna be a year we'll never forget."

The rest of the ride down was quiet until Evert pointed to my left hand.

"I heard about your Vegas wedding. Should I offer congratulations or condolences?" he quipped.

We stepped out into the lobby.

"Congratulations would be welcome. Payton and I are—" I paused, lost for words. The whole thing was still surreal to me. I never thought we'd end up here.

Evert whistled. "Say no more. I can tell by the way you say his name that you're a goner."

"I am," I replied as we headed for the door. "What about you? You dating anyone?"

I held the door open as we stepped out into the cool night.

"I don't date. Not anymore." He paused and offered a quick smile. "Hookups are my happy place."

We hopped in my car and headed for the gallery. When we arrived, there was a line of security outside, checking guests' credentials as people filed inside. Once we gave our names and IDs, we were guided inside. Evert got busy texting the gallery owner to advise that he'd arrived while I scoped out the room.

"Evening, guys."

I turned, surprised to find Jesse standing behind us.

"Hey, Jesse."

"What are you doing here?" Evert demanded.

Jesse crossed his arms. "I was invited."

"Oh."

"Your assistant, Bailey, sent me the invite. I'm sure everyone at Hardwick's head office got one."

"Of course. Sorry," Evert replied, a dark flush staining his cheeks. "Um, so, what do you think of the show?"

Jesse ran a hand over his buzzed hair. "But from what I've seen so far, it's everything I've come to expect from your work. Sexy and bold. I can't wait to see what you capture on tour."

"A lot of that will depend on the bands and how much access they give me. Most of that work involves taking candid shots and behind-the-scenes stuff."

That was gonna be interesting.

Jesse cleared his throat and nodded. "Just don't take any of me."

Evert gave Jesse a slow once-over and despite being in bodyguard mode, I couldn't help but notice the tension between them.

"I go where the muse takes me, cari?o. Don't be surprised if you end up on these walls someday," Evert replied smoothly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a gallery manager to flag down. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Jesse nodded, and I followed Evert into the crowd, scanning the room.

Jesse was right. One picture after another was stunning and sexy. There were famous faces I recognized, but not all of them. And there was a grittiness to the scenes that Evert captured—mostly in clubs, or at parties. These weren't carefully manipulated poses in a studio. I'd seen his work in both spaces. Evert did a lot of promo shots for various bands, including Wayward Lane.

Evert finally managed to locate the manager, a twenty-something guy who didn't spare a glance at me. I guess since I wasn't a rich dude ready to buy all the artwork, I wasn't deserving of acknowledgment. Ignoring the guy's rudeness, Evert did the intros, and I said hello, but I didn't offer my hand. I could be rude as fuck, too, when warranted. Whatever. My job was to be seen and not heard. I stood nearby and picked up bits and pieces of the conversations going on around me.

The manager's talking jag came to an end when he got called away by another patron. The who's who of Nashville was here tonight and more people came up to talk to Evert about his work. There were lots of air kisses, tons of name-dropping, and invites to parties.

After an hour, Evert excused himself from the crowd and turned to me. "Where's the fucking bar in this place? I need a drink. No, make it three."

I bit back a laugh and looked around. "It's set up at the back of the room."

"Let's go," he replied as we took off into the crowd again. "Between you and me, Len, if I didn't need to pay my bills, I'd avoid this whole fucking scene."

"The art world?"

"The PR machine that goes with it. Give me egotistical musicians and loud music any day over this shit."

I totally agreed.