“What's this?” Danny asked.
His new assistant's large catlike globes stared at Danny. Her lips froze into a silent O. He slammed the sandwich down on the dressing table and slowly repeated the question.
“It's a hamburger,” she said.
Danny peeled back the butcher paper and sniffed the burger. “This doesn't smell like beef.”
“It's a veggie burger.”
The minute the words were out of her mouth, he had Jackson put her on a return flight back to her hometown.
“Don't you think this was premature, boss? It's the third assistant you've gone through this week,” Jackson said.
“Excuse me, she's had plenty of chances. She got my coffee wrong, woke me up late, booked the wrong flights and forgot the hand sanitizer.”
“What do you expect, sir? I'm sure Marnie had her learning curves too.”
“Marnie never bought me a veggie burger.”
“No one is ever going to be good enough for you,” he muttered.
“What was that?” Danny asked.
Jackson shook his head as he left the dressing room. Robert came breezing through a few minutes later.
“Did you change your Facebook password? I want to get these pictures up of you and Harvey! Before the show starts.”
Danny shook his head.
“We'll, never mind. I'm sure the new girl knows. Just tell her to meet me in the break room.” Robert headed toward the door.
“She's gone. I fired her.”
He came back to the sofa and sat next to Danny.
“What happened?”
Danny scowled. “It doesn't matter. The bottom line is you'll have to figure out how to deal with Facebook on your own.”
“You really do need an assistant. Now that your song with Nia is number one in the country, everyone who's anyone in the media wants to get an interview with you. Unless you want to hire a bigger PR company, I'm having trouble coordinating this all on my own.” Robert shifted in his seat so he faced Danny. “What we need to do is re‐hire Marnie.”
“Shut up.” How dare he throw her name in my face? He was sick and tired of everyone telling him to bring her back, as if he could snap his fingers.
“What?”
“Do your damn job and quit trying to control me.”
“Danny, I'm doing my job by telling you what I need. Quit sulking and put your big boy pants on. Whatever happened, just apologize and get her back here.”
“You know what? You need to stay out of my business. I pay you to handle the press. Just because your life is lonely doesn't give you the right to get involved in my personal life. You better start remembering that, or I could easily find someone else to do your job.”
Robert cocked his head back. “Really? I'd love to see that, but in the meantime you can take that check and shove it up your ass.” He stood up, yanking his backstage pass over his head and tossing it. “For the record, there's not enough money in the world to put up with your bullshit.”
He strode across the room and opened the door.
“Rob.” His publicist ignored him, slamming the door as he exited.
Danny ran across the room, pulling the door open. “Rob, wait.” The man continued to walk down the hallway as if he didn't exist. “I'm sorry. I'm really… sorry.”
He closed the door and leaned against it. Damn.
Acting skills were coming in handy tonight. He did not feel like signing autographs after his show was over. It had never felt like work, but every time he signed his name, it felt as if a weight was chained to the pen.
“Where's your beautiful assistant?” A man with a thick New York accent asked.
“She's right there.” He nodded in the direction of the girl, the promoter had found to help him with the signing.
“No, I mean the redhead.”
Danny glanced up. A blond‐haired man smiled, but there was something malicious in his eyes.
“Marnie?” He asked.
The guy nodded.
“She no longer works for me.” He took the piece of paper the guy held out and hastily scrawled his name on it. He wanted to get as far away from this guy's sleazy vibe as soon as possible.
“I'm proud of her. The way she's moved up in the world. I always told her she needed some high‐profile clientele. Smart girl like that, she didn't deserve anything less than the best. I don't know why Benny loaned her out so much. Best thing she ever did was leave him.”
He was a client. Danny gave him a more careful once over. His blond hair was graying at the temples. The guy had to be thirty years her senior. Revulsion rippled through his muscles. She'd started tricking when she was eighteen.
“How long have you known her?” Absentmindedly, he scrawled his name on the notepad a young lady thrust under his pen.
“Oh, for years. We go way back. I taught her some of her best moves.” He leaned forward. “That move she does with her tongue. That came from me,” he whispered.
A boy cut in between them and Danny dashed off another signature.
“I hope she showed you that thing with her legs. She'd come over to my place and I'd bend her over the kitchen table.” He rolled his eyes and joy appeared on his face, as if he was reliving the moment. “The way she would grip me was heavenly.”
“If you see her again, tell her I was thinking about her.” The guy thanked him for the autograph and walked away.
Danny stood rooted to the spot; the chorus of fans still angling for an autograph became a gentle background murmur. The guy was most likely responsible for helping her pimp break her in. He stood before him smiling. While Marnie was probably going to spend decades in therapy and night sweats as she continued to put her life back together, this pervert was walking away. Everyone had walked away from her unscathed. Her stepfather, the men who raped her, and her pimp. But not tonight. Someone had to pay and he was in the gift giving mood.
He threw the pen in the air. He'd lost Marnie, and now Rob. What else did he have to lose? He surged through the crowd and tackled the man. They both fell to the floor and Danny rolled him over, landing the first punch.