Dirty Letters(48)

My heart started to race. “I’d love that. When?”

“I’m not sure yet. My schedule is pretty packed, but I figured I should be able to work it out with my publicist and assistant to rearrange things and clear a bit of time. Maybe next week or the week after?”

“That would be great.”

“Are there any particular days that are better for you?”

“No. Anytime, really. One of the few perks of being a reclusive, agoraphobic writer who works from home is that my social calendar is pretty empty.”

Griffin laughed. “You think you’re making your life sound bad, but every time you talk about it, I get a little more jealous of how much freedom you have.”

“That’s funny. I feel like freedom is the opposite of what I have. Most days I feel like a bird locked in a cage because of all my fears.”

Loud voices started to shout in the background. “There you are. Who you on the phone with, Mr. Pussy Whipped?” Griffin chuckled. “I better get going. The natives are getting restless with me not inside.”

“Okay.”

“Are you okay now?”

I thought about it. Talking to Griffin had really relaxed me a lot. “Yeah. I think I am. You calmed the savage beast.”

“See. We can totally do this together, babe. You’ll see. We got this. But be careful driving home.”

“I will. Have fun with the guys.”

I swiped my cell off and sat in my car for a few more minutes. God, I hoped Griffin was right—that we could do this. Because at this point, it was going to hurt like hell if we couldn’t.





CHAPTER 20

GRIFFIN


“You need to be seen. Stop being such a shut-in.” My publicist, Renee, marched into my house without waiting for an invitation.

“Come on in,” I grumbled and shut the door behind her. I’d planned on calling her today. But apparently she got tired of waiting for me to return her calls and thought a seven-in-the-morning unannounced drop-in was a good idea. The guys had only left at five, so I wasn’t happy.

“It’s early, Renee.” I followed her into the kitchen. She went straight to the coffeepot and started to open cabinets and pull shit out to make a pot of coffee. I leaned against the doorway, watching her spring into action. “Do you think we can do this a little later? I only got to bed two hours ago.”

“We could have done this on the phone if you’d answered even one of my calls over the last week.”

I had been avoiding her calls. But every time I talked to her, ten things got added to my schedule. And the only thing I wanted on my calendar was some alone time in Vermont with Luca. It had been more than a week since she’d left, and I’d come to realize that it was more than a week too long to be away from her.

Though I needed Renee’s help to move some shit around and get out of this town for a while. So I walked to the cabinet where I kept the coffee, pulled out a canister, and handed it to her. She took it and looked me up and down. “You don’t appear so bad for the morning after a wrap party.”

“It wasn’t the usual mayhem.”

She raised a brow. “Oh yeah? Why is that?”

I was going to need to tell her about Luca anyway, since I needed her help. So I told her the truth. “Have a girlfriend now. Didn’t feel up to the guys bringing over two dozen strippers and groupies.”

Renee pushed a bunch of buttons and handed me the coffee canister to put back. “Girlfriend, huh? Is that the woman in yesterday’s National Enquirer? And I assume also the reason you’re overpaying every paparazzi in town to buy the copyright of pictures of the two of you?”

I lifted a brow. “How do you know I paid off the photogs?”

She shook her head. “It’s my job to know what you’re doing—who you’re doing, for that matter, too.”

I only wished I were doing Luca. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, I laid what I needed on the line before Renee had a chance to rattle off what she wanted from me. “I need some time off to go to Vermont and visit my girl. Think you can clear some of my scheduled appearances for a few days?”

Renee folded her arms across her chest. “I need to add more to your calendar. You’ve been avoiding anything PR-related for a while. We need you to start getting some publicity. You have an album coming out and then the tour. Tell me about this girlfriend. Is she a celebrity—someone I can turn into media hype?”

“Definitely not. She’s very private, and I’d like to keep it that way. She’s not big on crowds or attention.”

Renee shook her head. “So of course, the logical choice for her is to date a musician who plays to sold-out stadiums and draws a crowd by stepping outside.”

I sighed. “Can you clear me a few days? I really need to get out of here for a while to spend time with her.”

Renee’s eyes roamed my face. “You really like this girl, don’t you?”

I nodded. “She’s special.”

The coffeepot beeped, and Renee turned and reached up to the cabinet where I kept the mugs. Filling two, she sat at the table across from me and slid one steaming mug to my side. “Let’s negotiate. When do you need to leave? Can we get a few public appearances in before then and schedule a few late-night TV appearances for when you get back?”