Catch Me Read online

  And I am. Gia is my first “real” client. I sent Shea his black matte microphone knowing he would love it and use it because it was from me, but I didn’t expect him to tell everybody and their mother about it. I’m so glad he did, though, it makes me happy to know that at least somebody is genuinely proud of me and supports me.

  “It’s not just me, everyone does. Everybody keeps asking us where they can get one,” she adds. “Well, Shea-bay, guys, Brooklyn, I’ll catch you later. I have a meeting at eleven I have to get to.” Gia blows air kisses to all of us and walks out of the airport.

  “Shea-bay?” I ask him with a raised eyebrow when Gia is out of earshot.

  “Girls, you know how they are,” Shea mutters, rolling his eyes.

  I laugh. “Yeah, I am one, so I think I do.”

  He shakes his head. “So tell me, why are you gonna go work for him?”

  “I don’t really wanna talk about it right now,” I say with a shrug, looking around. I say hi to Fern and look back at the guy in the black shirt, who catches my wandering eyes, and I curse myself for looking at him. He has a freaking girlfriend, Brooklyn, and you’re being rude.

  “Oh snap, my bad. Brooklyn, this is my boy Nick Wilde. He’s producing my CD,” Shea says, signaling the guy in the black shirt to walk closer to us.

  Nick steps forward, his potent blue eyes never swaying from mine. The way he moves and the way he lets his eyes drift and slowly checks me out as he makes the walk over causes my heart to thump wildly inside my chest. I know this guy is trouble, I can feel it and he hasn’t even said a word to me yet. He extends his hand when he reaches me and says something, but I can’t hear it through the sound of my heart that’s clogging up my ears. I acknowledge his introduction by putting my hand in his, shaking it along with his moving arm.

  Shea continues talking while I’m swimming in Nick’s blue eyes. The color reminds me of the water in the beaches of Maldives. They’re not your ordinary blue. They’re the most perfect shade of the color. The blue that makes you want to name a crayon because it’s so magnificent. The shade that makes you want to dive in. Of course I know there’s a great white shark waiting for me in that beautiful water if I dare to take the leap. I contemplate that for a while as we stand there hand in hand. About whether or not I could swim with a shark. Would it dance around me? Would it take a chunk from me and leave me to bleed out …

  Nick lets go of my hand, clearing his throat and drops his head, scratching his neck with his hand. I take a breath, clearing my own throat and shake away my thoughts.

  “I’m Brooklyn,” I explain dumbly.

  He chuckles, a deep, raspy chuckle that makes my heart skip a beat and makes me wish I could sit down because suddenly I don’t think my stiletto booties can hold me up.

  “I got that,” he says and winks at me. Freaking winks at me.

  “I’m Stephanie,” the blonde beside him says, snapping me out of my fantasy about swimming with dangerous sea creatures.

  I plaster on the smile I’ve perfected over the years. “I’m Brooklyn. Nice to meet you, Stephanie,” I say, shaking her hand.

  “So, BK, what else is new? I feel like we haven’t spoken in forever,” Leo says.

  “That’s because we haven’t,” I respond, placing my hand on my hip and pursing my lips.

  Leo laughs. “Aw, don’t be that way! You know I love you.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I reply but can’t keep from laughing when he lunges at me with a hug.

  “Miss, the aircraft is ready for you,” Farrah informs me.

  Leo lets go of me and places a kiss on my head promising me he’ll call me when he goes to New York in a couple of weeks.

  I give Fern a hug, wave goodbye to Nick and Stephanie and lean into Shea’s open arms.

  “Be careful over there and call me if you need anything. I’ll be there in a couple of weeks and I wanna talk to you about something.”

  I shoot him a confused look. “Okay?”

  “In private,” Shea says quietly.

  “Okay, call me.”

  I turn around and yelp, staggering a couple of steps in my heels when he unexpectedly smacks me in the ass.

  “Shea,” I reprimand, narrowing my eyes at him while he just laughs and puts his hands up in mock surrender.

  “What? Your ass looks great in those jeans. I couldn’t help myself,” Shea says innocently.

  I shake my head as I turn around and head toward the airplane wondering what the hell he needs to talk to me about in private. Surely he can’t want to start hooking up again, can he? I glance over my shoulder one last time and catch Nick standing beside Shea. They’re so different that comparing them is pointless, but I do it anyway. Shea is shorter and has the “you know you want to fuck me” swagger going for him with his hazel eyes, messy hair under his ball cap, and rugged edge. Nick is tall, more built, and looks all man in contrast to Shea’s boyish charm. The gleam in his eyes practically screams: “I know who I am and I’ll make it impossible for you to forget me.” His sureness of himself literally makes me shiver.

  They’re both looking at me, but my gaze gets caught in the intensity of Nick’s eyes. When he looks at me I can almost hear him daring me to look away, and that’s what locks me in. That’s what makes Shea’s figure look like a blur beside him. I force myself to look away as I get on the airplane and wave one last time. As I walk in, I’m greeted by Eleanor, an older lady with paper white hair that’s been working for my dad for a long time. It warms me to see her. After saying hello to her, I dump my oversized purse on one of the first leather seats to the right and walk to the back. I settle into my dad’s favorite seat, the biggest, most comfortable one. I snuggle into the seat and look around the plane, my eyes tracing the cherry wooden panels and the big leather seats, and the television that’s currently blank. I turn my head and notice the door to the bedroom is open and wonder if Shea took a nap during the flight then cringe, my face twisting in disgust when I think about what Shea and Gia might’ve been doing in there. Where did Nick sit? I wonder. Beside his girlfriend, dumbass, my own mind replies. I have never been one to take an interest in anybody’s significant other, but something about him makes me want to know more about him. Where did he come from? How have I never heard of him producing? Who hired him to produce Shea’s entire album? Is Stephanie his girlfriend? He never really specified.

  To my surprise, Hendrix’s black Escalade is waiting for me by the hanger when the plane lands in New York. I throw my bag over my shoulder and thank Eleanor before galloping over to my brother and throwing myself into his welcoming arms.

  “God, I feel like I haven’t seen you in years,” Hendrix mumbles into my hair.

  The feeling is mutual. The last time we saw each other was for my mom’s birthday in April, which was four months ago. Four months isn’t a long time, but it feels like ages when the only person who feels like family to you is thousands of miles away. I’m really glad that’ll change now that I’m going to be living here for a while.

  “I know, too long,” I respond, tearing myself from his embrace so that I can take a good look at him.

  Hendrix smiles and shakes his head at me as I hold him at arms’ length. He always says I’m like a mother hen and treat him like a child, even though he’s three years older than me. He’s probably right about that. I’m a nurturer. Clearly by nature.

  “Have you been working out?” I ask, squeezing his arms.

  My brother is really tall and equally as lanky. He has dark blond hair like my father and caramel brown eyes like my mother. He’s the perfect mix of both of my parents, and I’ve always been jealous of that. It’s kind of dumb to be jealous of how skinny your brother is, even I know that, but it still bothers me that he got the skinny gene. And I’m not saying that I’m fat because deep down I know I’m not, but it’s still something that I struggle with even years after the number my mom pulled on me when I was younger. I’ve been to countless therapy sessions for all of my “issues” but I always seem t
o have a load of them left over.

  Hendrix chuckles. “Actually, I have been working out. How the hell can you even tell when I’m wearing a suit?”

  I shrug. “I dunno. It’s a woman’s thing, I guess.”

  His driver, Marcus, opens the door for me and I slide in while Hendrix runs to get my suitcase.

  “Who are you and what have you done to my sister? Did you not bring clothes?” Hendrix asks, unbuttoning his suit jacket and shrugging it off as he climbs into the car.

  I don’t know what’s funnier, his bemused expression or the fact that it’s a valid question since I like to travel with my entire closet.

  “I only brought my purses,” I answer after my laughter dies down.

  He frowns. “What?”

  “I only brought my purses,” I repeat slowly. “Daddy snapped his finger and ordered me to do something, which of course I freaking agreed to, so I figured if I was going to drop my entire life to cater to him, he might as well buy me a whole new wardrobe.” I shrug to show him how nonchalant I am about it, but in reality this entire thing terrifies me a little—from the small fact that I have no clothes to call my own and no apartment to my name, which means I’ll have to stay at my parents’ or Hendrix’s, and no car that I can drive freely anywhere. I’m actually really terrified. The only thing keeping me together is the knowledge that my brother, cousin, favorite uncle and aunt are here. Family. Finally.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Hendrix says, his face still puzzled. “You didn’t even bring underwear?”

  I laugh loudly, throwing my head back and slapping my thigh. “Of course you would ask that! I brought a pair.”

  “So what are you expecting to do? Buy some Hanes in Duane Reed?”

  My eyes knit together. “Why would I do that? There must be a Victoria’s Secret around here somewhere …”

  “That’s not the point, Bee. You should always be prepared. I can’t believe you didn’t bring underwear,” he says, but he’s laughing. “You’re too fucking much.”

  I wink at him. “Don’t I know it. Oh! Before I forget!” I open my purse and sort around in it.

  “I don’t understand why women have such big purses. You can never find anything in them,” Hendrix mutters under his breath.

  My eyes shoot up to him and I’m about to tell him to mind his own business when I see that he’s already on his phone. “Found it! Here!” I say excitedly, shoving a folded piece of paper in his face.

  He pushes his head back and smacks my arm down, snatching the sheet of paper from my hand and opening it. The biggest smile takes over his face and I snap a picture. His daughter, Melody, sent him a paper that says, “I love you and miss you, Daddy.”

  “She wrote it herself,” I explain.

  “Thank you for bringing it,” he says, his voice low and quiet.

  I know he misses her so much and I hate that he lives so far away from her. It’s not fair, but it’s his fault and I know I can’t push him on it. I’ve tried enough times to get him to try and fix things with his ex Sarah, but he just won’t budge.

  “She misses you, you know,” I whisper.

  He looks at me and blinks rapidly a couple of times before he clears his throat. “I miss her too.”

  I wonder if we’re talking about the same person, but it doesn’t matter, there’s no need to specify. Both girls miss him and I know he misses them both terribly.

  “Do you think love really conquers all things?” I ask him quietly, resting my head on his shoulder as we drive into a tunnel.

  “I think it conquers most things,” he responds. “Why?”

  I sit upright and look at him; the reflection of the tunnel’s orange lights making his eyes look like lava. “Do you think you’re in love with Sarah or do you just love her because she’s comfortable?”

  I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down a couple of times. “I think you’ve asked me this before and I think the answer to such a question is: you can be in love with someone and comfortable with them and it won’t make a difference if life throws obstacles at you that you can’t push through together.”

  I nod and rest my head back on his shoulder. “Where are you taking me? I don’t even know where I’m staying. I swear, Drix, this is the last thing I’m doing for them.”

  He chuckles and ruffles my hair, which makes me scowl and sit upright again so that I can finger comb it. “You said that last time, Bee. And the time before that.” He leans in and ruffles the top of my hair again and I slap his hand away.

  “Will you freaking stop that? Not everybody has naturally straight non-frizzy hair, you asshole.”

  Hendrix laughs his obnoxious carefree laugh, which is only obnoxious when it’s at my expense. “You’re such a clown, Bee. And to answer your previous question, I figured you would wanna stay at my place. Unless you want me to take you to Mom and Dad’s, it’s not like they’ll be there … I just didn’t think you would want to be there.”

  “Your place is perfect.”

  I check my phone while Hendrix takes a call and see a couple of text messages. The first one is from my best friend Allie.

  Al: Bee, let me know when you land! I hope you have a safe flight. I love you! xo

  I respond back, letting her know that I made it and I’ll call her later. The second one is from my cousin Nina.

  Nina: Hey, whorebag. Are you here yet? Drinks tonight? Shopping? Let me know, I’m free!

  Me: In car w/Hen. Have to go buy underwear and clothes.

  She replies immediately.

  Underwear? WTF? How did you lose that? Didn’t you take a private flight? Tell Hen he’s an asshole for not going to my play last week.

  I laugh loudly and Hendrix shoots me a look that tells me to shut the eff up, so I do as I type back a response.

  Me: I didn’t bring clothes, only purses. He’s on phone so I can’t tell him.

  Nina: Fk. He’ll probably cut my tits off if I call you then. No shoes either?

  Me: Nope. Nothing. Only the clothes on my back.

  Nina: Ballsy. I like it. U staying with the Hen?

  I laugh again and cringe when Hendrix tells me to “shhh.” We call him “the Hen” when we want to piss him off.

  Me: Yeah.

  Nina: FML. He’s gonna try to control your every move. Forget about taking a guy home.

  I shake my head because of course my cousin would be thinking about that.

  Me: Not worried about that.

  Nina: I forgot. You’re a fucking nun.

  Me: Please.

  Nina: I’ll pick you up in an hour. Shopping and dick hunting.

  I’m not surprised that those are the two things on her mind.

  Me: You’re insane.

  Hendrix gets off the phone and looks at me expectantly. “Who the hell are you talking to?”

  “Nina.” My smile is so bright not even his foul mood can damper it right now.

  He rolls his eyes. “Shoulda figured. What did the little slut want?”

  My mouth drops open. “Hendrix! She’s our cousin!”

  “Yeah, and?” He blinks as if he’s missing the point.

  “You can’t call her that.”

  “Whatever. Did you know she invited me to watch her stupid play? I went and left two seconds into it, before the fucking curtains even went up because I read the bill, THANK GOD, and noticed it was a NUDE play?”

  I cover my mouth to keep laughter from spilling out, but it’s no use. “No, it wasn’t.”

  He gives me a don’t be stupid look.

  “I can’t believe that,” I say, laughing.

  “She’s a moron. Why the fuck would I want to see her naked?”

  I shake my head and dry my tears, gasping for air as I picture my brother sitting in a tiny dark room waiting for my cousin’s show only to find out she would be naked.

  “Who did you go with?”

  “By myself, thank God. I would’ve freaking died of embarrassment if I had taken a date. Can you imagine? ‘Hey, let’s
go watch my brilliant cousin act.’ ‘Oh, which one is she?’ ‘The naked one.’”

  My laughter rises again and this time I double over in it, tears streaming down my face and he joins me.

  “She’s such an idiot,” I say, laughing too hard for the words to be intelligible.

  “She really is,” he says as his laughter dies down.

  I text Nina back because I cannot wait until I see her.

  You were in a nude play and you invite the Hen to watch!

  Nina: OMG! I WAS NOT NUDE! HE’S SUCH A DICK! IS HE SICK? GOD. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!

  I laugh and show Hendrix the screen. He laughs and then glares at me. “The Hen? Are you fucking kidding me? You still call me that shit?”

  “Only when you’re being an asshole about things.”

  My reply earns me a pinch on the arm, which I yelp at. We make it into Manhattan at six o’clock and I’m starving. I look out the window as we drive around, watching all the suits and women in work attire shuffle through the streets, clearly dying to get home after a long day. I turn my head to look at my brother and smile, thankful that he took part of his workday to pick me up at the airport. He’s a workaholic just like my father, so I know how hard it is for him to be out of the office on a weekday. And a Tuesday at that, since it’s the day albums release. He’s been on his phone like a hawk the entire car ride, so I’m sure he’s either checking numbers or emailing people about staying on top of sales.

  When I face the window again, a huge billboard of a half naked Shea startles me. His dark brown hair is ruffled, looking like he just got out of bed. His tattooed arms and torso are exposed, the lines on his tan stomach more visible than usual with the oil they put over him. His hands are tucked into his jeans and the band of the brand of underwear he’s modeling for is out. He’s looking at the camera with a smirk on his face, his muddy green eyes practically eating me as I stare back at the photo.