“Show me.”
“Last stool at the bar,” Brook said, “Black hair. Looks like he's got a little Asian in him, or maybe Spanish or something. His bone structure makes my mouth water, and the way he fills out his clothes… Mmm. I bet he's modeled.”
“Oh yeah,” Giselle said. “Wow, what a smile.”
“Lights up the freaking room.”
“Have you made contact yet?”
Brook sighed. “No. What's the point? I mean, sure I could do a one-nighter with him but…” She shrugged and turned away. “I'm kinda getting tired of saying good-bye, you know?”
“I do know.” Giselle's heart grew heavy. “And I'm sorry.”
“Hey, not your fault. I have a choice. I keep following you, don't I?” Brook squeezed her arm. “I think we're almost done here. You've hit all the major players. But Gloria really does want to talk to you. She's not happy.”
Giselle took another sip of her drink, glancing around the crowd for her agent. “I can't remember the last time I saw Gloria happy.”
“Can't say I blame her. Chad's a diligent gatekeeper. If I were her, I'd be frustrated too. I know Chad's trying to take care of you, but sometimes he's extremely selective about what gets through to you.”
That news made her shoulders drop two inches. “To be honest, their little battles are getting on my nerves.”
If she were really honest, everyone around her was testing her patience except Brook, and all the tension only added to her sense of isolation. From the outside, it looked to all the world as if she had a tight-knit band who loved each other like a family, and support staff who came together to collectively lift Giselle to the peak of success.
She'd never imagined success could bring such loneliness.
“Let's just get through this last big push,” Brook said. “Then you can reevaluate. If they can't get along, maybe one of them has to go. Or maybe both. Not a bad thing, just a change. You need people who will grow with you.” Brook circled her shoulders with one arm and squeezed. “Hang in there. Something's going to pop soon.”
“Yeah.” She laughed. “Me.”
Brook had just joined her in the laugh when a strong male voice interrupted. “You've been avoiding me.”
Tyrone Gleason approached, and their laughter died. He was a handsome thirty-five-year-old music executive who'd company-h
opped like crazy to advance his career. He also woman-hopped and thrived on the drama of his lovers fighting over him. Giselle had told him more than once he belonged on a reality television show.
“Oh, Tyrone,” Giselle said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “It's not all about you, I promise.”
His arm snaked around her waist, holding her close, and Giselle rolled her eyes in Brook's direction.
Her friend plucked Giselle's empty glass from her hand and gave Tyrone a stern look. “You can have her for five minutes. I'll be back to move her on to greener pastures in five minutes.”
“Ten,” he countered with a grin. “We have something important to talk about.”
Giselle leaned against a high-backed chair at one of the tables in the bar area and lazily twirled her finger into a curl, pulling it forward again. “You look good, as always.”
“You look better, as always.”
She grinned. “What's this important thing?”
He darted a look around the room, a hot grin edging his full mouth. “I assume you've heard the rumor they're adding a Grammy category this year.”
Tyrone had been on the Grammy's Producer's and Engineer's Wing Steering Committee until he took an executive position with Bose six months before.
“I've heard that rumor, but I haven't seen any official word.”
“It's happening. And there's more than just one.” His dark eyes caressed her cleavage. “They'll be announcing it at the same time they announce nominees in a few months.”
When he didn't go on, she reached out and lifted his chin with one finger until his gaze met hers. “Are you going to tell me what the categories are?”