Bound to Please(83)
“Thanks for asking us to do the show,” Mark managed.
“When I found out Ruby knew you personally, I just couldn’t resist asking her if you’d play for us.”
Mark glanced at Ruby. “I just can’t say no to her. Her wish is my command.”
“And, I’m looking forward to the cocktail party,” James said. “And so are five of my most important clients.” He turned to Mark. “God, she is really something, isn’t she? I swear, she can pull off magic. I had CEOs begging to get an invite to this preparty!”
“What?” Mark shook his head. “What preparty?”
Smiling, Ruby stepped on the top of his foot with her heel. Hard.
“Mark’s kidding. The band is going to be at your place at six sharp.” She glared at him. “Right?”
Fuck. He’d totally forgotten he’d obligated the band to a schmooze fest before the show. He nodded. “Yeah, right. Of course we’ll be there.”
She glowered at him for another moment before giving James a huge smile. “Everything seems to be running smoothly, James. It’s going to be a fabulous event.”
James beamed at Ruby, and something in Mark went tight. He didn’t like the way this guy was looking at Ruby, not one bit.
“Of course it’s going smoothly,” James said. “With you running the show, everything goes exactly as planned. Always does, gorgeous.”
A pink flush tinged her cheeks. “Thank you.”
Mark’s gaze darted back and forth between the two: Ruby in her retro outfit; James in his neatly pressed pants and preppy shirt.
Mark’s gut clenched as he realized this Cleaver guy epitomized everything Ruby had wanted her entire life; he could give her what she’d always wanted.
Because the one thing Mark knew without a doubt was that no other man could ever love Ruby the way Mark knew he could, if she would just give him the chance.
Now, she smiled at Mark but her eyes were cold. “You probably need to go pack for your tour. I’ll see you tonight, Mark. At the show.” She turned away to show the Cleaver guy something on her clipboard.
And just like that, Mark was dismissed.
Mark slammed the door behind him, causing Yvette to look up from her bowl of cereal. Jake paused his perusal of the issue of Rolling Stone he was reading and said, “’sup.” He was lounging on the sofa, wearing Mickey Mouse pajama bottoms and not much else.
Mark stepped around their packed luggage, sitting in the living room of the loft they’d been living in for the past two weeks. He’d hardly seen the place. Most of his time had been spent at the studio or with Ruby. And now they were leaving.
Twenty-four hours from now they’d be in London. Far away from San Francisco, far away from Ruby.
“What’s up, Doc?” Yvette asked and spooned in a mouthful of Lucky Charms. She wore a white tank top and boxers and looked like she had just woken up, even though it was past three.
He dropped into a chair opposite her. “Nothing. I’m just ready to split.”
“Everything okay?” she asked as she chewed.
“I don’t fucking know.”
“It’s that chick, isn’t it?” Jake called from his spot on the couch. He shook his head. “I knew it was a love song.”
“We never did hear it,” Yvette said.
“And you never will.”
“My, my. Someone’s got his Underoos in a wad.”
Mark grunted.
“Seriously,” she said, her voice softer. “What’s up?”
“I went to talk to Ruby today, to tell her that I wanted to try and give things a go.”
Yvette gave a low whistle. “Wow. That’s pretty serious.”
“She was less than enthusiastic, especially when I told her we were leaving tomorrow.”
“Really?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Now, why would a healthy, red-blooded, hetero woman go and push away a hot guy like yourself?” She leaned forward. “Maybe she’s gay.”
“She’s not gay. She has a crush on Mr. Cleaver.” Mark cringed.
Yvette jerked back. “The Beaver’s dad?”
“No, the dude who’s putting on this gig tonight, but he may as well be the guy from the show.”
“And so what did you do?” Yvette said between bites.
He shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? I left.”
Yvette threw herself back in her chair. “You’re kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“No, not really.” She pushed away her empty bowl, sat back and rubbed her belly. “Mmm mmm good. Anyway, what are you going to do now?”
“I think she wants me to leave.”