She lifted a brow at him. “How can you fall asleep while giving a massage?”
“Giving one? I’ll be on the receiving end.”
He danced sideways as she reached out to swat his butt again.
“Tease!” she accused.
“Is that a challenge?”
She wasn’t sure how she felt about his raised eyebrows and crooked grin. What did he mean by challenge? How could being teased by him be a challenge? She didn’t have time to ponder or question; she had a presentation to give.
“Text me when you’re finished,” he said. “Or if you need rescuing.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, more for personal assurance than for his benefit.
“I know you will. I have faith in your abilities.”
She hadn’t had anyone say something like that to her since her father had passed away. She wasn’t sure how sincerely Logan meant his words, but they gave her the fortitude to straighten her spine and head to the conference room with a confident smile on her face.
Her smile faltered when she entered the room and saw her mother and Susan with their heads together, talking in low tones, looking like they were plotting the crime of the century. At the far end of the room, Birdie was drawing rainbows on the dry erase board, her tongue protruding from between her lips as she concentrated on the curved lines.
Toni bumped into a chair, which drew everyone’s attention.
“There you are,” Mom said. “We were starting to think you’d gotten lost.”
“. . . in your rock star’s bed.” Susan grinned.
She wished. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Toni pulled out her laptop and booted it up. She connected it to her small portable projector and lowered a screen from the ceiling. Birdie frowned at her as the screen slid down in front of the dry erase board before edging behind it to continue drawing rainbows.
“Birdie, come out of there. I need to use the screen.”
“I’m bored,” Birdie said, and Toni could hear the pout in her tone. “I wanna draw.”
“I have paper and pens in my bag. Draw on that until I’m done.”
Generally cooperative, Birdie did what she was told. Toni handed her bag to Birdie, and Birdie sat cross-legged in the corner, digging through the bag hunting for treasure.
“Why are you setting up for a presentation?” Susan asked. The derisive tone of her voice wasn’t lost on Toni.
“I wanted to show you what I’ve been working on so you have a better idea how the book is coming along.”
“That’s not why we’re here,” Susan said.
Toni scrunched her brows together. She was at a complete loss.
“Then why are you here?”
“Your mother and I have been talking about the direction of the book,” Susan said. “We think it will sell more copies if—”
“Let’s see what Toni’s been working on first,” Mom interrupted.
Toni offered her mom a relieved smile and opened the first mocked-up page she’d created the night before. It was a table of contents.
“I’m sure some of these topics will change as I continue on tour with the band. The longer I’m with them, the more ideas I get. I’ll start with their history, the formation of the band in their own words. Dare saves band memorabilia. He said I can use reproductions in the book if I can secure the rights from the copyright holders.”
“Sounds expensive,” Mom said.
“According to him, it shouldn’t cost us anything. We’ll have to credit the photos to the photographer, but most of the photos were taken by friends and family. He doubts they’ll be interested in money.”
“Everyone is interested in money,” Susan said.
“A lot of people are just happy to help the people they love,” Toni said, trying not to glare at the woman.
“Yeah. Until money’s involved.”
It must be hard to go through life so bitter and jaded, Toni thought, but she moved on with her presentation. “There will also be sections on what goes on backstage.”
“Now we’re talking,” Susan said.
Toni ignored her and continued down what she’d worked out so far for the table of contents. “The crew. The fans. Promotional events. The tour bus. The private jet—which I haven’t seen yet. A huge section on concerts and a chapter on each band member. Each of those will vary depending on the band member. For instance, Logan is an open book and has tons of hobbies outside of music, so his chapter will look a lot different from Max’s because Max is very private and more focused on the fans. I’m really excited about the section on what it’s like to create and record new songs as a member of Exodus End. Dare says they’ll consider creating a song exclusive to the book. And let me track the entire process from brainstorming to writing to recording.”
“That sounds exciting,” Mom said, her eyes wide with wonder.
“That sounds dull,” Susan said as she pretended to stifle a yawn. “Where’s the real dirt on these guys? That’s what will sell books.”
“There’s no dirt,” Toni said. That was exactly what she didn’t want in this book. No dirt. Nothing that could potentially hurt a member of the band.
“There has to be dirt,” Susan said. “You’re around them twenty-four seven. You have to be privy to things more exciting than what they had for breakfast.”
“You’d be surprised how much preparation goes into getting them breakfast. Their tour runs like clockwork.”
“Which is boring,” Susan said. “This is all very boring.”
“I think the fans will love it,” Mom said.
“Oh, yeah, they’ll eat this shit up,” Susan said. “But we discussed this, Eloise. Remember? The fans are a niche market. And you want to sell this book to millions of people. To do that, you need dirt.”
“Exodus End has millions of fans,” Toni said. “It may be a niche market, but it’s a huge niche.”
Susan and her mother stared at each other for a long moment, as if communicating by telepathy.
“Before I saw this, I was convinced the book needed dirt to sell, but I think Toni is on to something here,” Mom said.
“I think you’re making a mistake,” Susan said. “Let me take over. I’ll create a book that will sell like wildfire.”
“This isn’t only about sales,” Toni said. “If we do a good job with this book, other bands will come to us to have their biographies written. If we publish a bunch of scandal, it might make us money now, but our chance at future projects will be obliterated. No one will trust us.”
“Publicity is publicity,” Susan said. “Even if it’s bad publicity. Actually, bad publicity gets more attention than good publicity. What are you more likely to recalclass="underline" Steve Aimes cheating on his wife or Steve Aimes sending shoes to poor kids in Africa?”
“Steve sent shoes to poor kids in Africa?” Toni mused.
“See what I mean!” Susan said.
“Toni,” Birdie interrupted, tugging on Toni’s sleeve.
“Just a minute, Buttercup,” Toni said absently before continuing to plead her case. “Maybe this book isn’t about publicity.”
“Of course this book is about publicity,” Susan said. “That’s the only thing their manager wants out of it. He wants it to draw more attention to the band. And how better to do that than to get people’s attention with dirt?”
“Just because someone reads the book to get this so-called dirt you’re so fixated on, that doesn’t make it more likely that they’ll buy Exodus End’s music or go to their concerts, does it?” Toni had never argued with a nonfamily member before. She wasn’t sure why it was so much easier to stick up for her new friends than it was to stick up for herself, but she wasn’t backing down on this. She wasn’t writing the book to sell it to a bunch of nosy people who would snigger and ridicule the band members for their mistakes. She was writing this book to glorify a group of men—and one woman—who deserved to be recognized for their greatness.
“Toni!” Birdie said, yanking on Toni’s sleeve anxiously.
“I said just a minute, Birdie,” she snapped, prying fingers from her sleeve. “Can’t you entertain yourself for a few minutes?”