The Fire Walker (The Devil's Tattoo)

  "Dee Cosgrove."

  I looked up at the sound of a female voice. From the broad New York accent it could only be Georgie. My first thought was, here we go, and that wasn't meant in a good way.

  "Georgie," I said politely, straightening up.

  "What are you doing here on your own?"

  "Enjoying some alone in a crowd time."

  She smiled widely, not getting my meaning. "How have you enjoyed recording in LA so far? I hope Galaxy is doing everything we can to make your stay enjoyable."

  I knew that was a euphemism, but I chose to shudder internally and ignore it. "Recording has been fine. Short, but fine."

  "You know, if there's anything I can do for you, I mean anything," she said, pressing closer to me, "all you have to do is say the word."

  I tried to angle myself away from her, but she was… there and I was too polite. Glancing over at the bar, I caught Jessie's eye and her lips quirked into a knowing smile. I coaxed my expression into one that said 'save me' and she must have let out an exasperated sigh, because her shoulders rose and fell dramatically.

  "And of course we want to take you right to the top," Georgie was saying, her hand on my forearm and her breast jammed against my arm.

  I nodded uncomfortably, watching Jessie approach out the corner of my eye.

  "Dee," came Jessie's velvet voice. "If you have a second, I just want to ask you about tomorrow's concert."

  Georgie stepped back glaring at her PA. "Do you have to annoy him with this now?"

  "It's fine," I said. "I don't mind."

  The older woman gave Jessie another glare for good measure and stalked off, disappearing into the throng of people grinding on the dance floor.

  "Thanks," I said, giving her my trademark sexy smile. "She's a bit..."

  "Slutish?"

  I snorted, stifling a laugh. "I was gunna say special, but that works." She looked around the club uncomfortably probably realizing she shouldn't have said that to 'the band'. I had no intention of ratting her out.

  After a second, she smiled thinly and said, "Look, I was a bit short with you before, I'm sorry. It's just this business you know." She rolled her eyes dramatically.

  "I know what you mean."

  She straightened up and held out a slender hand. "Jessie Ware."

  "Dylan Dee Cosgrove," I said emphasizing my nickname. When I slid my hand into hers I almost had a heart attack. "Can I buy you a drink?" No harm in asking.

  "No," she said with a smirk, dropping my hand.

  "Damn, you really know how to shoot a guy down in two seconds flat."

  "I do my best." Her accent sounded strange. Not quite American.

  "Where are you from?" I asked and she sunk back a little, surprised.

  "I'm from Montreal."

  "Canada?"

  She nodded. "French-Canadian."

  "So you speak French?"

  "Yes."

  I hesitated, looking over at the bar where Frank was giving me two thumbs up.

  "Do you like LA?" Jessie asked, making me turn my attention back to her.

  I frowned and shook my head. Best to go the honest route.

  "Not your thing?" Her head cocked to the side and I imagined running my fingers down her slender neck.

  "No," I said kind of dazed. "I don't like…" I couldn't think of a nice word, so I just gestured around us at the fakery of the club.

  She smiled widely, her shoulders sagging as if she was relieved. "I know what you mean."

  "I just want to play, you know. I don't care about all this. I just…" I ran a hand over my face, suddenly embarrassed.

  "It's about music for you?" she asked. "Not the money?"

  I nodded, watching her expression change and I wondered what she was thinking. What was she in it for?

  "How about that drink?" she asked and my eyebrows rose. "Hurry up or I might change my mind."

  "What do you like?" I asked with a lopsided grin.

  "Scotch. Straight up."

  "Really?"

  "Why do you sound so surprised?" She was something else.

  "I don't know that many women who like hard liquor. At least not straight up." And that was the truth.

  Walking up to the bar, she was served almost instantaneously and I held my fingers up at the bartender indicating we wanted two of. He looked me over and shrugged. Serve the pretty girl and try and pick her up? Not while I was around. I watched Jessie as she stood next to me, trying to figure out what she was thinking, but she was a closed book.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, scowling at me. Like she didn't know.

  I grinned knowingly at her and asked, "Are you coming to the show tomorrow?" We had a gig at a local rock venue and it was the one ray of light in the blackness of recording. That was, until Jessie Ware had turned up.

  "Of course. I wouldn't miss it."

  "Really?" I asked as our drinks were placed in front of us. I handed the guy a twenty without taking my eyes from Jessie's. At least I hoped it was a twenty.

  She turned face on to me, a scowl marring her features. "Why are you always surprised? Everything I say you come back with 'really?' I'm not sure how to take it."

  I leant against the bar, studying the contents of my glass. "It's just. You surprise me."

  "How?"

  How? How could I explain that every single word that came out of her mouth imbedded itself in my heart without coming off like a creep? I snorted and shook my head. I'd have to ask Will about that one.

  "What?" she asked again and thumped me in the arm, the contact sending my body straight to a dirty place.

  "You're with the label," I began, my eyes running over her face and over her tattooed arm. "I expected Georgie, but I didn't expect you."

  A look flashed in her eyes that I didn't understand and she shrunk back, downing the last of her scotch. "Thanks for the drink," she said, dumping the empty glass on the bar and just walked away, merging into the crowd.

  I straightened up, running a hand through my hair, heart thumping erratically in my chest. What the hell did I say?

  Dee Cosgrove was not the kind of guy I was expecting him to be.

  Even from the short conversation I'd had with him, he seemed down to earth. He even seemed to have the same thoughts about the whole label facade. I couldn't deny that I found him attractive, but his comment about the club not being his thing had sparked my interest.

  "I can't believe it," Georgie declared, throwing her head back against the seat.

  I had to ride with her back to the hotel or I was positive she wouldn't get there. And the woman was my boss. The shining example I was meant to mold myself into. Unlikely.

  When I didn't answer her she said, "That Dee Cosgrove is damn fine. I can't believe he wasn't interested."

  I knew from the bands promo material that he was ten years younger than her. Twenty-five. A year older than me. "Maybe he has a girlfriend?" I offered, suddenly wondering myself.

  "That's never stopped them before, honey."

  I tried not to throw up in my mouth and just shrugged. Oh, I don't know. Maybe he had class? Georgie glared at me and let out a dramatic sigh, taking out her cell.

  As much as I wanted to, I'd never ever talk back to her. She was my boss and even though I worked unpaid, she had the power to oust me from Galaxy and every other label in the country. I'd be lucky to get a job bussing tables at Hard Rock Cafe if I pissed her off. I knew what was good for me, even if she didn't.

  Georgie might be a huge slut, but she was good at her job and she got results. People were afraid of her and rightly so. She was a massive diva and if she didn't get her way, then she was the kind of person who'd relish in getting people fired for messing up her lunch order.

  "He was all over you," she declared suddenly.

  "I don't go there, you know that."

  She scoffed loudly, flinging her cell back into her bag. "If I can't fuck him, then you may as well."

  I almost choked only own spit. "Geor
gie!"

  "You're all so goodie two shoes," she slurred. "News flash Jessie-J. If you want to get to where I am, you need to uncross those legs of yours." She slapped my knee.

  I felt my face redden and my eyes flickered to the driver, but he didn't flinch. At least someone in this car was professional.

  "I saw the way he was looking at you."

  "Well," I said firmly. "I don't go there, so I'm just going to keep my legs together."

  She looked me up and down resentfully, shaking her head, shaggy dyed black hair sticking to her face. When she slumped back into the seat again, it was back into a sullen silence and I was grateful she'd let it drop for now.

  My mind went to that obvious place, the one where I wondered what it would be like to kiss Dee Cosgrove. Whether he tasted as sweet as he came across, or if he was dirty and wicked. I swallowed hard. I could not be having these thoughts.

  I didn't sleep with guys to have a good time or to further my career. I wasn't like that. He lived in Australia. I lived in New York. If I was fucking Dee Cosgrove, it would be in a relationship. And that was not going to work. For one, I didn't even know the guy.

  All these dirty thoughts were counter productive. I just had to let it drop and get through the next few days with my integrity intact. Dee Cosgrove was a client. Nothing more.

  Since Zoe had moved out of our hotel room to stay with Will, I was alone with myself and that wasn't a good thing. By the time she stopped by the next morning, I was bouncing off the walls, flipping channels on the tellie, scribbling in my notebook, anything to keep my mind off the inevitable.

  Letting her in, I scanned the hallway behind her. "What, no lover boy?"

  "No," she rolled her eyes at me. "I let him sleep in after his crappy flight. He'll be at the gig later. Are you ready?"

  "As I'll ever be."

  She gave me a look, which was all she ever seemed to do lately.

  "What?" I grumbled. "You know me. I'm a loose cannon without an audience."

  "Okay," she said with an air of whatever and flung my denim jacket at me. "We're on the clock. Let's get going."

  We rode the elevator down to the hotel foyer in silence, which was strange for us. We usually had so much to talk about, most of it usually crap.

  "What's with the lack of decibels, Dee Dee?"

  I shrugged, my usual upbeat nature gone out the window.

  "How was the club last night?"

  "Terrible," I muttered.

  "And?"

  "And what?"

  "Did you talk to her?"

  "Talk to who?" I asked, knowing full well who she was referring to.

  "Jessie."

  She had to go and say her name didn't she? My jaw tensed.

  "What happened?"

  "Yeah, I talked to her," I said. "Georgie tried it on and she came to save me."

  "Bloody, Georgie," Zoe laughed. "That woman is merciless."

  "And almost ten years older than me."

  "Don't you wanna be her toy boy?" She made a kissy face at me and I laughed at her lame joke, circling an arm around her neck and pulling her into my side.

  "In her dreams." At least I was in someone's dreams.

  "What about your dreams?"

  "Shit, Zoe," I cursed as the elevator door slid open with a ding.

  As we walked out into the foyer where Chris, Simone and Frank were waiting for us, she pulled away and thumped me in the arm.

  "Ow, what was that for?"

  "Don't have such a defeatist attitude. That's anti-Dee. I don't know who you are."

  "Ugh," I rolled my eyes. "Let's just get through this shoot. You know I'm my best on my own turf. I'll win her through music." I added a wink for good measure.

  She gave me a half-smile as we joined the others. We had a photo shoot to endure this morning before going to sound check later on. Galaxy had wrangled us a last minute page in the upcoming issue of Rolling Stone and it had to be done today or not at all. Massive exposure, but one of my least favorite things to do. You think for someone with a vain streak like mine I'd be all over it like a rash, but I was hotter for a stage and an audience, not a single photographer. Numbers was where it was at.

  We rode in two separate town cars over to the studio and the closer we got, the more my stomach churned and by the time we actually got there I was a quivering mess. The only thing that saved me from being found out was that everyone was excited about the gig later on. And when we inevitably ran into Georgie, it was sans Jessie and disappointment flared, stabbing me right where it hurt.

  As soon as we were all there, we were dragged in separate directions and I didn't have time to dwell. Apparently we were on a tight schedule and I just wanted to get outta there. An overzealous Georgie pushed me into a chair in front of a mirror and I caught Zoe and Simone looking at me in the reflection, both of them stifling laughs. This wasn't funny by a mile and all it did was make my blood boil.

  The redheaded stylist grimaced at me as if she already knew what I was about to endure and I offered her a thin smile. Hurricane Georgie was at a category five and there was no indication she'd stop anytime soon.

  "Now," Georgie declared, "hair messy and slicked back." She took this as an excuse to run both her hands back through my hair, her eyes fixed on mine in the mirror. How the hell couldn't she see that I was looking back with a mixture of horror and revulsion?

  "And this stubble has to go," she said, running a hand over my jaw.

  Shit, I was just sitting there like a deer caught in the headlights of the Georgie show while she pawed me like a horny teenager. I was way too nice to tell her hands off. A snort came from behind and I glared at Zoe in the mirror. Frank and Chris had joined them and they were all red faced, trying to keep their laughter in check. Fucking traitors. They were enjoying my suffering and the jokes I'd have to endure afterwards would be epic.

  "Okay, got it," the stylist said, moving forward and she let me go. Sweet, sweet freedom.

  It went like that for much of the shoot. To my annoyance, Georgie only seemed to have eyes for me and not Frank as she took it upon herself to arrange us just so. Even the photographer seemed to be annoyed at her, but at least she got results. We only had a couple of hours before we had to leave for sound check and she whipped everyone into top gear. Every other shoot we'd been on had lasted the best part of a day and this was a whirlwind compared to those.

  "No, no, no!" Georgie walked towards us, waving her hands like some kind of banshee. "This isn't working. Where's the stylist? Zoe, darling, come here."

  Zoe squeezed my hand as she was pulled across the studio, her eyes betraying the fact that she was trying to hold back laughter.

  "We need to change her outfit," Georgie was saying to the flustered woman who was styling the shoot.

  "Okay everyone," the photographer sighed dramatically like he was saying not again. "Take a break."

  Sagging my shoulders in relief, I walked straight over to the pot of instant coffee that was set up on a wonky trestle table and poured a styrofoam cup to the brim.

  "You know Georgie is making sexy eyes at you?" Simone whispered in my ear.

  I groaned. "Don't remind me."

  "Do I need to do something?" She was my friend, but she was still our manager and had a duty to look out for us professionally. There was no need to get worked up about it. We'd be done with the face-to-face tomorrow, but Jessie was also included in that equation and I wasn't ready to be done with her.

  "No. She'll be gone tomorrow."

  "That's pretty blatant sexual harassment."

  I snorted. Dobbing in the over-enthusiastic Marketing Manager? There goes my manhood.

  "Don't sound so enthused."

  I rose my eyebrows at her.

  "You and…" she began, but I clapped a hand over her mouth.

  "Nothing happened," I said. "Keep your lips zipped, S."

  Peeling my hand away, she laughed. "Okay, but keep an eye on the cougar. She's on the prowl."

  "I don't know
if I should be flattered or scared shitless," I groaned. "Why doesn't she go after Frank?"

  "Because he's an acquired taste." Simone winked and took a few steps backward. "Eyes on the prize, Cosgrove."

  Rolling my eyes, I waved her off and downed my cup of lukewarm coffee and made a face. Caffeine was caffeine.

  "Okay," Georgie yelled, clapping her hands. "Places."

  The photographer went nuts after that, flashing bulbs and elbowing Georgie out of the way when she got too close. All in all it was about fifteen minutes and we were done. Everyone had had enough of Georgie, but Georgie didn't seem to notice. I'd known the woman all of a day and already I knew I'd be glad to see the back of her.

  They'd dressed us in Calvin Klein Hugo GAP whatever and the first chance I got I slipped away to change back into my own stuff. I didn't care for labels and fashion that much. Of course I knew image had a lot to do with a band, but shit, our image was nonchalance. Pulling on my own black jeans and boots, I yanked off the shirt and t-shirt the stylist had given me and reached for my own. That's when the door opened.

  Tuning around, I expected to see Chris or Frank, but my mind instantly cursed on my behalf. Shit, fuck, ass.

  "I'd hoped I'd get a chance to talk to you alone before the concert tonight," Georgie said, slinking over to me.

  I had no shirt on and suddenly I felt my skin prickle. Not in a good way, either. As I went to pull on my t-shirt, she slid her hands on my wrists, stopping me.

  "Georgie…"

  "How about it?" she asked, her hands moving across my skin to my waist. "We've got time."

  Yeah, maybe I should have been more assertive the night before instead of getting Jessie to save me. If I'd been less of a pussy, then maybe I wouldn't be in this situation right now.

  Grabbing her wrists, I pried her hands from around my waist. "Not gunna happen."

  "Are you sure?" she purred and I had to stop myself from visibly cringing. Women like her, who thought they could win over every guy with sex, turned me off.

  "Positive." I let her go, pulling my t-shirt on and grabbing my jacket from the back of the chair.

  "It's Jessie, isn't it?" she scoffed. "You want to fuck her, don't you?"

  The way she said her name fuelled my annoyance into an inferno. She'd said it like she was some kind of pathetic ant she wanted to squash under her boot. She didn't seem to think much of her intern who seemed to put up with a lot of shit if her behavior right now was anything to go by. The sudden protective streak that flared in my gut scared the shit outta me.