Toni lifted her chin, which betrayed her by quivering most annoyingly. “I won’t.”
“We’ll see. You mother already told me that if you fail, I can take back the job I was hired to do. I guess I’d better start packing. You’ll be home by midnight.”
“You only know how to do interviews. You don’t know how to do anything else this job requires,” Toni said.
“I’ll send all the information to you and you can make it pretty and flow together into a book. That’s what you’re good at.”
It was what she was good at. Design. In the past, Toni had been forced to use the information, photographs, illustrations, videos and audio clips that someone else had decided were important for making an amazing interactive book. For this project, she was in charge of collecting everything necessary to capture the men behind the rock stars. And she was determined to wow everyone with this biography. Even Susan. And maybe her mom would realize that Toni was most valuable as a creative asset to Nichols Publishing, not as the head of it. Toni had to get this book right the first time. Mom wasn’t big on second chances.
“Call me on Monday to check in,” Susan said dismissively. “Unless you’re already back in town. Then let me know so I can meet up with the band at their next tour stop.”
“I’m not going to fail,” Toni said. She lifted her chin another notch. “I can do this.”
Susan rolled her eyes and turned toward her computer, dismissing Toni without a word.
Toni scooped herself out of the chair, uncomfortably aware of her trembling knees. If Susan intimidated her this easily, how would Toni ever hold her own with a bunch of cocky rock stars?
She lifted her camera case and slung the strap of her bag over one shoulder. “I’m not going to fail,” she said resolutely and rushed out of the office, slamming the door on the corner of her messenger bag, completely negating the finality of her angry exit.
She fled to the bathroom down the hall. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks as she shut herself into the largest of the three stalls. She dropped her case on the floor, then yanked toilet paper from the roll and dabbed at her eyes beneath her glasses. Why was Susan so mean to her? Toni was nice to everyone, whether they deserved her kindness or not. She didn’t understand how anyone could say such cruel things to someone else. It was almost as if Susan wanted to rattle her. Wanted her to fail. No one could really be that much of a selfish jerk, could they?
Toni dropped the tear-soggy toilet paper into the bowl and yanked another length off the roll.
“Are you in here, Toni?” a familiar, masculine voice called into the bathroom.
“You can’t come in here, Julian,” Toni called to him. She blew her nose before reaching for more toilet paper.
“Did Susan make you cry again?”
“N-no.”
She heard the door close and took a deep, shaky breath, glad Julian had left. She wasn’t quite ready to face him yet. Her tears had stopped, but her nose was still running like a leaky faucet. He’d recognize that she was lying as soon as he saw her.
“Toni, she’s a horrible jealous bitch,” Julian said through the crack in the stall door. “Don’t let her hurt your feelings.”
“Julian! This is a women’s restroom.”
“Trust me, honey, there isn’t a thing in here that interests me,” he said.
She could picture the disgusted sneer on his pretty boy face.
“Except making you smile. Now come on out of there.”
“In a minute.” She blew her nose again and rubbed her face with the palm of her hand.
“What did she say to you this time?” Julian asked.
“That I’m g-going to f-fail.” Toni dashed away a stray tear. God, why did she have to be so soft-hearted? It was a freaking nuisance.
“You aren’t going to fail,” Julian said. “You’re going to kick ass. I guarantee it.”
“What if the band members won’t talk to me?”
Julian released a soft laugh. “They’ll talk. They won’t be able to help themselves. Someone has to fill in your long bouts of absolute silence.”
She didn’t talk much. Especially to strangers. Her stomach lurched. Everyone around her on this tour would be strangers. Everyone.
“I’m terrified,” Toni admitted, mostly to herself. But Julian heard her.
“Of course you are. Who wouldn’t be? But you’re going to get past your fear and you’re going to get out there and make a fantastic, exciting life for yourself, because the one your mother made for you just doesn’t suit you.”
At least someone besides her recognized that.
Toni grinned, feeling loads better, and opened the stall door.
“There’s that smile,” Julian said, hugging her. “Now hurry the hell up. You have a tour bus to catch and four rock stars to befuddle with your sugary sweetness.”
In the company car, Toni snatched the cigarette out of Julian’s well-manicured hand and took a deep drag. Lungs burning and eyes watering, she choked before producing a hacking fit that would put a tuberculosis patient to shame. There was a reason she didn’t smoke. Well, several actually. But an aversion to choking to death was at the top of her list.
Julian took his eyes off the freeway long enough to give her his what-the-fuck-is-your-problem look before retrieving his cigarette and settling it between his thin lips. “You don’t need nicotine, honey,” he said around the filter. “What you need is Valium. Or Xanax. Actually, both would do you some good.”
“Are you suggesting I need to be drugged?” she asked, giving her mother’s personal assistant the evil eye.
Julian was the closest thing she had to a non-blood-related friend. Occasionally he made her leave the house and go out on the town. Unfortunately, they always ended up in gay bars, which was entertaining enough but didn’t do much for her romantic prospects. But they weren’t crawling through stadium-event traffic to embark on a social adventure. Toni was about to get on the tour bus of the most well-known metal band in the world—hell, even she had heard of Exodus End and she mostly listened to classic rock. She’d gone from uncertain to nervous wreck the moment she’d fastened her seat belt. Just thinking about touring with the band made her stomach do summersaults, backflips, and cartwheels. She had an Olympic-level gymnastics meet going inside her.
“Did you remember to shave your legs?” Julian asked. He took a nonchalant drag off his cigarette before holding it between two fingers against the steering wheel. They were inching along the interstate at a snail’s pace. She probably could have gotten there faster if she’d walked.