“You guys aren’t putting up with me for my good looks. My partner deserves some credit. He got all the leather and trim. Percy is a detail queen.” Kate gave credit where credit was due.
Taz shot her a grin. “You’re pretty cute, for not being Asian.”
“Thanks.”
“Got to go show Drake,” Taz said. “He’s a comic book hound too. He’ll be smoked that he didn’t think to ask you for something. Should warn you, he likes to be a pirate.”
“I’m here if he wants something.”
Taz took off, his pace brisk.
Kate took a moment to look at her design book. The Loki jacket was there, drawn out with notes. She’d changed it just a little and then knocked out some limited-edition jackets to be sold at designer cost. The contracted rights would be put to good use. Drake liked to be a pirate? She smiled as she started to sketch out a jacket.
But her neck was killing her. Stiff from too many hours bent over her machines and cutting table. She rolled her shoulders as she stood up and tried to work some of the stiffness loose.
Kate closed up her design book and went back to sorting through the hides, to decide what project to start next. The costume rack was filling up. She enjoyed looking at the growing number of pants on it. Now that the immediate concern was covered, she could turn to doing detail work. She toyed with slashing, making up samples to show to the band members for consideration. The day wore on, the hotel becoming quiet as everyone made their way over to the arena where the concert was going to be held. She checked the time, making sure she wasn’t running late.
“We need to talk.”
Kate looked up, the note in Cid’s voice warning her that the road manager was in the mood for a fight. One look at his face, and she was certain of it. He wasn’t afraid to assert his authority.
Piss on his turf, you mean.
But that didn’t necessarily make him a turd. Life was a competitive sport. Everyone had to scratch out their spot and defend it.
She laid down her scissors. “Yes?”
“Are the terms of your contract unclear?” he began.
Kate didn’t even blink. “Not a bit.”
Cid made a wide gesture with his hands. “Oh, I think there is a huge discrepancy. You don’t seem to understand what you’re here to do.”
She pointed toward the rolling rack of finished pants. It was sectioned off by performer, and she’d even added one of the vests Ramsey was so fond of.
“If there is a problem with my production rate—”
“There’s a problem with the fact that you’re in here making costumes when I’ve hired you to make stage clothing,” Cid fired out. “Taz doesn’t need to be wasting his time playing adolescent dress up. We don’t have room on this tour for someone who doesn’t have their attention focused on what brings in the money.”
“Oh, I’m focused.”
Cid was every inch the asshole she’d decided he was. The need to pound her down was glittering in his eyes.
But she wasn’t going to take it.
“If you want an accounting of my time, I’ll give it to you. Including overtime, which”—she lifted her hand when he tried to interrupt—“is clearly outlined by the terms of my contract. I have produced more than sufficient product, and what I do in my off time is a private matter between me and my client.”
“You work for me,” Cid insisted.
“During the allotted hours only. Because travel time is part of my hours,” she said. “I’ll get you that time sheet.”
She picked up her shears and looked back at her cutting table. It was a bold move, but slightly more professional than telling the jerk off. He stood there a moment.
“Better be in my inbox by the end of the day.” Cid stormed out of the suite.
Asshole…
She’d never met a more fitting subject for the word. What worried her was how crafty the road manager was. He’d planned his little shakedown for when Syon and the rest of the band were doing sound checks. There was also the fact that not a single member of his entourage was in attendance. Which was a real rarity. Cid liked to have someone ready to fetch his cappuccino; that was for sure.
No witnesses.
His word against hers.
Something tingled on her nape, a feeling of foreboding that she had trouble shaking free.
Well, she wasn’t going to worry about it.
Nope.
After all, she was a warrior princess.
* * *
“Kate, my dear.”
Kate was suddenly wide-awake. Percy only called her “my dear” when he was going to unleash a life lesson on her.
“What’s wrong, Percy?” More importantly, what details did Percy know?
“There is rather more of you on the pages of Roadkill’s newest issue than I’ve ever seen,” her partner delivered in a dry tone.
“Roadkill?” she asked, trying to place the name. A memory stirred. “I am going to kill Cid!”
Syon lifted his head and sat up, giving her a hard look. She spun around and stood up as Ramsey appeared in the doorway.
“I’m going to pull his balls off,” she said into the phone but directing it toward Syon.
Percy attempted a mediation. “Now, Kate, do I have to remind you of how many cameras are on you when you travel with Toxsin?”
“I was in a closed room. With a locked door.”
“Oh.” Percy made a low sound on the other end of the line. “In that case, his nuts have it coming.”
Syon suddenly plucked the cell phone from her hand. “Percy, Kate will get back to you.”
He hung up as Kate turned on him. “You don’t end my calls.”
“When you’re contemplating castrating my road manager, I do.”
Syon tossed her dress at her, and she realized she’d been standing there in nothing. She was too mad to care. “That film crew has plastered nude pictures of me in their monthly issue.”
Understanding flashed through Syon’s eyes.
“Wait, how’d they get a shot of your tits?” Ramsey asked.
Syon’s lips twitched, a smug look entering his eyes. Kate’s temper sizzled.
“We were in a closed room. The door was locked,” she hissed. “The terms of the contract concerning the use of my image sure as hell don’t extend through locked doors!”
Syon nodded. “I know. I’ll talk to Cid about it.”
“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.” Kate propped her hands on her hips. “I can tell Cid he’s an asshole all by myself.”
Ramsey snorted. “I believe her.”
“I told you, Kate, privacy—”
“Yeah, is a casualty, but I was doing a fitting on you.”
“What?” Ramsey looked up from a cell phone he’d pulled out of his pocket. He pointed at the screen. “This look was missing from my fitting.”
Ramsey turned the phone toward her, giving her a view of her bare torso, a saucy smile, and her own hands on her breasts.
“That’s because she’s my girlfriend,” Syon said.
Kate snorted.
Syon swung his attention back to her, and his gaze had gone hard. “Take a hike, Rams.”
“Later.” Ramsey was gone, leaving her with Syon.
She was halfway into the dress, but Syon plucked it from her hands and pulled it off.
“My girlfriend,” he repeated.
She stepped back, the warning in his tone chafing her. “I’m a little preoccupied with the issue on the table.”
“I’ll deal with Cid.”
She moved around the bed and grabbed another dress that had landed on the floor sometime the night before. “I dealt with him before, and I’ll—”
“Over what?” Syon asked pointedly.
Kate managed to get the dress on, but she didn’t feel very secure.
Ha! Try hanging over an abyss…
Yeah, that was about the way she felt, but she wasn’t going to admit it. Syon was distracting her as it was, slowly stalking her across the suite.
“Over what, Kate?”
He wasn’t going to drop it, but the topic was at least a diversion from the idea of having to define their relationship status.