"I apologize for being a little late, but I ran here as fast as I could from the bus," I explained, using the word ‘ran' very loosely. It was more of a shuffle with my knee pretty badly hurt and my balance still being off.
"It's not a big deal today," she explained, "but on nights when there's a show, you're gonna want to get here a couple hours early. Anything that can go wrong usually does, so plan ahead for that," she added.
I simply nodded, thinking the light scolding wasn't quite fair, but it wasn't like I could tell her what really held me up from being on time. I was sure she was already uneasy about bringing me into our father's business. If she knew too much, she'd end up having even less faith in me than I suspected she already did.
"So, are you excited about getting started?" she asked. "Before you know it, you'll be emceeing your first show!"
I breathed deep at the mention of it. "Can't wait!" I replied, hoping I faked being confident well enough.
The lights? The stage? As a musician, I was used to being on that side of a production. My band had landed some pretty significant gigs here in Houston, as well as a few out of state. But here at Indecent Exposure, Ivy would be depending on me to make sure the background of this operation ran smoothly and that was new territory for me. Put a set of drumsticks in my hand and I come to life, but with a mic? Experience had taught me I wasn't quite ready for that.
"Justin sent a text that his sister showed up unannounced, so he'll be here a few minutes late, but it shouldn't be much longer."
At the mention of someone else joining Ivy and I today, my brow tensed. "Oh! I thought it'd just be us," I said casually, despite being a little confused.
Ivy pushed her braids back again. "Initially, it was, but I got to thinking last night. You're gonna need a right-hand guy. Kind of your go-to for insight and ideas?" she clarified. "The person I used to count on for those sorts of things recently got out of the biz to focus on his family, but I think you'll like Justin."
I didn't let it show on my face, but … this felt like being assigned a babysitter.
I was just on the verge of feeling offended, but never got the chance. As soon as the thought hit me, Ivy's eyes lifted toward the doorway and mine naturally followed. When they did, I didn't blink. Like … at all.
A song came to mind when I saw him. Not words. Nope, it was a song and the chorus cycled on repeat. It was one I knew all the words to and even the key in which Pat Benetar sung it-F minor. Yes, he was indeed a Heartbreaker … this man … whoever he may be.
Brown skin, just a twinge darker than my own, stood out against the crisp, white t-shirt he wore-something simple to offset the Army fatigues that cut off well below his knees. A pair of red high tops screamed ‘I care just enough to be fly, but not enough to worry if you agree'. He, not just his attire, was the perfect blend of old and new school. Kind of a yin and yang of style that made me forget I was even beginning to get upset.
"Sidra, meet Justin."
I was out of my seat pretty quickly, standing there as he approached-all six-foot plus inches of him. As a pretty tall girl myself, 5'10", it was always nice to have to look up to meet a guy's gaze.
"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Justin," he said, smiling right after when the statement came out a little awkwardly. "But … I suppose Ivy just told you that."
That smile, it was slanted to one side more than the other, but it was still perfect. It left me wondering if he was kinda shy or just incredibly chill. I guessed the latter. Yeah … it was definitely the latter. At the realization, my stomach did a somersault.
"Nice to meet you, too," I said back, offering my hand. However, the sight of the huge, red scrape in the center of my palm made me pull it back. When his brow quirked, I knew he'd seen the mark, but didn't speak on it. I quickly shoved both hands inside the back pockets of my shorts, cringing at the roughness of the jean material against them.
He withdrew his hand that lingered in the air. "Sidra, is it?" he asked. "Am I pronouncing that right?"
‘You can call me whatever you want,' I thought to myself, but only nodded in response.
That crooked smile tugged upward to one side again and I was drawn in by his dark, probing eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to stare," he apologized. "It's just … you're not really what I expected. When Ivy said your name was Sid … "
"You assumed I was a guy," I laughed, finishing his sentence. "Yeah … I get that a lot."
He drew in a breath and I held mine as he scanned me, looking me over from head to toe.
Ugh … you picked the perfect time to get in a fight with the sidewalk and mess up your knee, Sidra. Way to go. I probably looked like a kid just learning to ride her bike.
Acknowledging that he had to have seen that, I felt incredibly embarrassed. The attention I once welcomed, I now shied away from.
"Justin, would you mind showing Sid around for me?" Ivy asked, already reaching for her phone, apparently needing to return the call I interrupted a moment ago.
A casual shrug lifted broad shoulders and I couldn't help but to appreciate my new tour guide's build.
"I've got her," he replied, just as Ivy began to dial.
I turned to follow behind Justin and discreetly admired the view of his back-toned peaks and ridged valleys everywhere. I could see that even through his shirt. I knew these guys would be pretty close to perfect, but I clearly hadn't prepared my heart for this.
The sound of my name being called made me halt, but Justin continued on into the hallway without me. I focused in on Ivy as she covered the phone's receiver with her hand.
"I know our product can be tempting," she began, "but it's important to remember rule number one."
When I frowned, feeling confused, she went on to explain.
"Never get high on your own supply." A stern look followed, but that was it. She went right into her phone call and her eyes left me.
Those words were still in my thoughts as I joined Justin just beyond Ivy's office door. He was waiting and I zeroed in on his full lips and the hint of scruff on his chin when he spoke.
"Ready?" he asked.
I only nodded, letting him know I was. But then, staring at his back when he continued on down the hall, that's when I finally got what Ivy meant … ‘Never get high on your own supply'.
The guys were off limits.
To her.
To me.
Apparently, my assessment of Justin in her office hadn't gone unnoticed, but hell! Who could blame me? Asking myself that question, I surveyed him again, marveling at his solid, and yet lean, frame. I could imagine he had these women going crazy when he performed. At the thought of getting to see that for myself in just a few days, my teeth sank into my bottom lip. It was all I could do to hold to Ivy's most recently expressed rule.
‘Never get high on your own supply, Sidra,' I recited to myself in a whisper, hoping I was able to hold to that. However, I had the gnawing feeling that my new babysitter, my designated tour guide, would be the hardest drug I'd have to resist here at Indecent Exposure.
I couldn't give in, though. Not if I was serious about building a relationship with my sister. Not if I was going to be effective here.
With my mind made up that I wouldn't risk the rapport I was trying to build with Ivy, I forced myself to be content with the idea of looking, but never being able to touch.
I could do that. It'd be easy, right? Simple.
I mean … as long as Justin kept his distance, too.
Justin
A single, blue light was all that lit the bar. It glinted off the tips of her large, hoop earrings where they peeked out from underneath her choppy haircut. Something equal parts cute and sexy. It hit just below her chin and she wore the top pinned away from her face; a face I couldn't stop staring at. Part of what drew me in was the two dermal piercings set within her cheeks-not something you saw every day, but they fit her. There was something about this girl.
Something good.
Something I liked.
I got the sense that she didn't march to the beat of anyone's drum but her own and I'm a sucker for that-a woman who's bold enough to be exactly who she is. Her t-shirt, of all things, was the first thing to catch my eye when we were in Ivy's office. It was black and barely touched her midriff with the words ‘PARENTAL ADVISORY' across the middle in white letters. Beneath it, in smaller print: ‘explicit everything'. It made me smile then and now.
A set of pink suspenders stretched up over her shoulders from the waistband of incredibly short, jean cutoffs. They covered little more than her hips, but I wasn't complaining. While she got lost reading the labels on liquor bottles, I got lost watching her. The classic, shell-toe Adidas on her feet earned my respect on sight. I mean, I like a woman in heels as much as the next guy, but, as a sneaker-head myself, I had a feeling her shoe game was pretty sick.