Billionaire Bad Boy(15)

"Okay, if I answer your question, you have to answer one of mine."

She hesitated only momentarily before nodding. She had nothing to hide after all.

"My parents were poor," he said matter-of-factly. "Dirt poor. Dad had two jobs but Mom kept having children. An itinerant laborer can only earn so much. He couldn't support everyone and Mom couldn't work because someone had to look after us. So he moonlighted as a thief."

"Oh my God. I had no idea. Did he get caught?"

"We moved before the law caught up with him, then my parents divorced and he died in his early forties. Shortly after, I headed to LA. The story gets boring from there."

She doubted that. "Oh," was all she said. Wow, was her life so...normal. Next to him, she was dull, despite her father's decadent lifestyle. A lifestyle he'd tried to share with her. A lifestyle she'd tried to avoid. Annie's heart went out to the kid Zack had been. But studying him now, all good looks and confidence and wealth, he hadn't grown up any worse for his experiences.

"So tell me how you made all your money?" she asked, settling into the conversation. She was surprised at how much he'd opened up already-who knows what she could get him to tell her.

Zack was just as surprised at how much he'd said to Annie. He wasn't the sort to tell people about his childhood, especially not to someone he barely knew. Maybe it was because she was still a relative stranger. He didn't expect to see her again after the end of the week when Dug-E flew in and hired her to be his agent. Yeah, that must be why-it was safer to tell a stranger than a friend.

Besides, if she knew where he came from, maybe she'd be less likely to want to get involved with him. Good girls don't date bad boys. They might use them to make the good boys jealous or to temporarily escape their image, but beyond that, women like Annie had nothing to do with guys like him. Just as well. It would make it easier to resist her if she didn't want him. As it was, resisting her was going to take all the self-control he had.

"Okay," he said in answer to her question. "I've got Bob to thank for that. When I moved here, I was following in my father's footsteps."

"Working two jobs?"

"Stealing. Cars to be precise. One day, I was attempting to break into a nice convertible. Bob's. But you know what an old softie he is. Instead of turning me in, he organized a job for me. Retail. A men's wear shop. I was seventeen and it was just what I needed. Of course, Bob threatened to turn me in if I didn't stick it out."

"You got rich working at a men's wear shop?"

"No, I got rich when I learned what Bob did for a living. My new boss, a friend of his, told me. You see," he leaned towards her, "my father had written some songs before he met my mother. It had been his dream to have them recorded, but life got in the way. I had my older sister send me Dad's old demo tapes, and I got Bob to listen to them. He liked them and represented the family, getting a deal with Sonic Records. A very lucrative deal. The songs became popular and all six of us took our share. I used mine to buy the shop where I worked and turned it into a department store. The rest, as they say, is history."




 

 

"Wow. Interesting. What were the songs?"

"Ever heard of Love is a Velvet Sky? Or Walking on Hot Coals?"

"By The Dream Weavers?"

He nodded. "They recorded Dad's songs."

"I never knew. My father never discussed business."

"He wasn't involved. Bob brokered the deal."

"That sounds right. Dad handled the publicity and temperamental artists. Since the songwriter was deceased, his talents weren't really needed, I guess."

Zack detected a note of...what? Disappointment? Annoyance? Maybe she wasn't proud of her father. If so, they had more in common that he first thought.

"You're not like him," he said.

She stiffened. "No."

"Tell me about him."

"He loved life to the fullest. End of story."

"I told you about me, so now it's my turn to ask a question."

Her mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Shoot."

He placed one elbow on the bar and leaned his cheek on his palm. "Why did you decide to become an entertainment agent?"

"What sort of question is that?"

He shrugged. "It just isn't...you."

"Not me? What's that supposed to mean?"

He dodged the sparks fired by her intense blue gaze and decided to let her dwell on her own question a moment longer. He finished his beer and toyed with the empty glass before he answered. "You're not a typical LA agent."

"That's because I'm not," she sniffed. "I'm not a typical anything."

"No kidding."