Catch Me (4 page)

“No fucking way!” Leo booms as he opens the door, snapping me out of my reverie. “Brooklyn!”

My heart is still rattling, but I’m smiling as I stand and walk toward him, throwing my arms around his neck and letting him lift me up into his arms, swinging me from side to side.

“What! I didn’t know my girl was here,” Shea says excitedly from behind us.

“Hey, Shea,” I greet quietly as he reaches over to hug me.

He hugs me tight and I exhale into his chest, feeling loved for a couple of seconds before he backs away and holds both sides of my face to look at me. I lose myself in his twinkling muddy green eyes as he searches my eyes, my face, and for a moment I want to back further away at the thought that he might kiss me. He doesn’t, which I’m glad for because that means I got through to him with our “no more kissing on the lips either” talk the last time I saw him.

“How have you been?” he asks as he draws circles on my cheeks. My breath stalls at the weight of those words coming from his mouth. If anybody else asked me that I wouldn’t get upset, but it’s Shea, the person who’s seen me at my worst, and it does affect me. Besides, the way he’s looking at me with such concern, and touching my face, it feels like too much for me to handle right now.

I blink back the tears that I feel forming, embarrassed that I’m feeling emotional in front of a group of people. I’ve never been a crier, but the few times I allow myself to break down, I do so in private. “I’ve been good. Fine. You know.” I shrug.

“You know you can call me anytime, right? I know I’m an asshole and haven’t really been in touch much lately, but I’ve been so swamped, Bee.”

I smile at him. I love it when he calls me Bee. He usually calls me BK, Bee is something he saves for when he’s regretful or want to be loving. I always appreciate it when he uses that nickname.

“I know, Shea, I know. I’m the last person you need to explain that to.”

He gives me his signature Shea smile, the one he uses on stage, the one he uses to make all the girl’s panties melt, and I shake my head. My eyes drop down to Shea’s wrist where the tattoo of my name sits. I look at it for a moment and smile again. He didn’t get that tattoo for me, but the fact that he has it there still makes me smile.

“So, you’re the one going to New York?” he asks, his dark eyebrows knitting. I always thought he looked so cute when he was trying to figure something out, like a kid trying to figure out how much money he has for ice cream.

“Yep. Daddy Dearest asked me to work for him,” I say, tracing the tattoo with the tip of my finger. I look around and notice that everybody else is speaking amongst themselves and before I look back at Shea, the guy in the black shirt snaps his head up and looks at me. I tear my gaze quickly from his, hoping he doesn’t think I was staring at him or anything.

“What the fuck?” Shea snaps, making my eyes widen as I look back to him, wondering if he’s mad that I was looking at the unknown guy. “Is that what you want?” he continues. “Your mics are boomin’, Bee.”

“Hey, Brooklyn!” Gia interrupts as she walks over to us, giving me a genuine smile. “He’s right. I loooove my microphone! It’s so cute and different.”

“Hey, I’m glad to hear it!”

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 to 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.