The Auction (Club Indulgence Duet, #1)(67)

I toss a thousand dollars in cash down on her desk, repeating, "Tell him Riggs Madden is here. That's for your trouble."

She glances at the cash, clears her throat, then folds the bills. She stuffs it in her bra and chirps, "Let me see if he's on a break."

"Yeah, you do that," I state.

She isn't gone long before Ears steps into the lobby, grinning. "Well, I'll be damned." He slaps hands with me and pats me on the back, claiming, "Long time."

"Yeah. Got a minute for me?" I ask, knowing he'd give me the shirt off his back. He's another friend from Compton who made it out. I was in more fights than I can count with him. We've always had each other's backs.

He leads me to a private office. "You want a drink?"

"Nah. All good," I reply.

He sits on an oversized armchair and motions for me to sit on the couch. I obey.

Ears pushes his fingertips together, asking, "What the fuck are you doing in my studio?"

I chuckle. "Love how you never beat around the bush."

"Nor do you, as I remember."

"No, I do not. I need studio time for a demo. And I need the top agents in the room."

Ears whistles. "That's a hefty demand."

"But I'm sure you can get it done. For a nice amount of change, of course," I add.

Ears crosses his arms, declaring, "I can't mess with my relationships."

"She has the talent. I promise you," I state.

He narrows his eyes. "You fucking her?"

I don't answer, keeping my eyes on his and clenching my jaw.

Ears scoffs. "Of course you're fucking her."

"This isn't about that. I wouldn't come to you if she wasn't the real deal," I insist.

Ears sighs. "Okay. I'll bite. Tell me about her."

"She plays piano, has the voice of an angel, and writes her own songs," I inform him.

He huffs. "Sounds like most of L.A."

"She has talent," I firmly repeat.

A moment passes. He asks, "What's she look like? She a looker? If she's not a looker, it'll never work. This industry is rough."

"Like you said, I'm fucking her," I reply.

Ears scrubs his face, then nods. "I had a cancelation today. Two months out."

"Perfect. Send me the bill," I say and rise.

Ears stands, warning, "Riggs, if she's not the next Mariah Carey, don't have me call my contacts."

I grunt. "You still have a thing for her, huh?"

He grins. "She's my queen."

"Don't worry. You're going to love Blakely," I reinforce.

"What's her last name?"

I almost say Gallow, then stop myself. "Fox."

He repeats, "Blakely Fox. Well, at least she doesn't have to change her name."

"Nope. See you in two months. Have your girl send me the date," I order, wanting to get out before he asks any more questions or changes his mind.

I fight through more traffic, heading straight to the beach house. It's around three when I stroll through the door, still feeling giddy.

Today couldn't have gone better.

Lightning streaks through the sky as I step inside, momentarily lighting up the dark house. Blakely's at the piano, but she's not playing. She's staring out at the water, lost in her thoughts.

"Pet," I gently say, sliding my hand on her shoulder.

She jumps, then glances up. "Oh, hey. I didn't hear you come inside."

"I guess not."

She glances at the clock, then says, "You're home early."

I slide next to her on the bench, teasing, "Is that a good or bad thing?"

She smiles, but the worry doesn't leave her face. She answers, "Always good."

Damn, if her statement doesn't make me happier.

And she sees it. She asks, "Why do you look elated right now?"

I chuckle. "Elated? That's an interesting choice of words."

Her smile grows. "Guess one part of my brain still works."

I lean closer to her face. "I have some news for you."

"Oh?"

"You've got two months to get ready."

"For what?" she asks.

"Your demo."

She gapes at me, then questions, "Riggs, what are you talking about?"

I drop another bomb. "It's at Naked Pipe Entertainment."

The color drains from her cheeks. She stares at the piano keys.

My heart races. "I thought you'd be excited."

She swallows hard and locks her blues on mine. She asserts, "Naked Pipe Entertainment isn't just somewhere you go to demo, Riggs. Anyone charting right now records with them."

Arrogance flares inside me. "I'm aware."

She gets up and paces in front of the window.

My gut drops. I question, "Pet, I thought you'd be excited."

"I-I'm not good enough for that studio!"

"Sure you are."

She shakes her head. "No, I'm not. I've never even properly recorded anything. I'm an amateur! I'm... I'm nowhere near ready for their caliber."