Read Give Me Strength Online

Authors: Kate McCarthy

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary

Give Me Strength (6 page)

“You know,” Lucy continued, “Rick and I aren’t
going to be around forever. We need to see you settled and taken
care of.”

“Lucy!”

She was making it sound like they were ready to
pass through the pearly gates, when in actual fact they were saving
hard for a house. I knew they had enough for a deposit because
every time I asked Lucy about it, she averted her eyes and glibly
changed the subject. They were wasting money on rent because they
were worried about leaving me behind.

“I can take care of myself,” I pointed out.

“Not this old chestnut,” she said with a huff.
“I might appear as dumb as a box of rocks, but I
can
track a
calendar. I
know
David is out in six months. Have you
forgotten what he did? I sure as shit haven’t. And last I saw, you
haven’t magically evolved into Rocky.”

“I don’t need to take him on. I need to move,
that’s all.” I sighed and tucked my legs up into the seat. “Just
get me home before you kill us both in an accident.”

Lucy pursed her lips. “I’m a good driver. I
could have been a race car driver I’m that good.”

“No,” I contradicted. “You are just that fast.
You could have been a cab driver.”

My phone rang from inside my clutch. I emptied
its contents into my lap and grabbed for it.

“Hello?”

“Quinn? Mac.”

“Mac?” Who the hell was Mac?

I heard an impatient huff, and I wasn’t sure if
it was directed at me or someone else. “Mackenzie. Mackenzie
Valentine.”

Lucy frowned at me and I indicated with frantic
eyes for her to watch the road.

My interview as Mac’s assistant wasn’t for a few
days. Was she ringing to tell me the position had been filled? The
thought had my stomach lurching, although as the scenery passed by
at the speed of light, Lucy’s driving was likely a contributing
factor.

“H-how can I help you?” I stuttered.

“Actually, it’s how you can help me.”

“Oh?”

“Look. I’m swamped. I need an assistant ASAP.
Can I move your interview forward?”

I exhaled silently, relieved the position was
still open. “Of course,” I replied. “When?”

“Now,” she barked.

Oh shit.

I looked at Lucy in panic. She took her eyes off
the road to glance at me, raising a brow in question.

“Sure. That’s no problem at all,” I lied, doing
my best to sound bright and efficient instead of painfully
hungover. “I’m just out and about at the moment, and I have a dog
at the vet to collect this morning.” I also had a vet bill to pay
that I knew would have my purse cringing in horror. “Would
lunchtime suit?”

“No. We need to be on set to start shooting a
music video. Is your dog okay? Can you just pick him up and bring
him with you?”

“Bring my dog?” I repeated.

“Yeah. Your dog.”

“Um…I guess so.”

“Good. See you soon,” she barked and hung
up.

Mackenzie Valentine sounded
fierce
. I
shoved all the contents on my lap back into my clutch along with my
phone, feeling rushed now and completely unprepared.

“Well?” Lucy took her eyes off the road again to
glare at me, offended I was keeping her waiting.

“I’m screwed,” I muttered.

 

 

“Dammit, Suzi-Q. Not now,” I growled.

I kicked at her tyre in frustration, but she
didn’t reply. Her silence was enough but if cars could smirk, I
could swear she was doing it right now, and I wanted to scream. Mac
had expected me long before now, and the five second shower I’d
managed to take before collecting my dog was now wasted. I felt the
sheen of sweat from my flustered panic. I had no time for makeup,
and my hair, according to the panicked reflection staring back at
me from my car window, was its customary fairy floss. Nothing clean
to wear meant I was wearing my white cap-sleeved blouse that had a
pen mark and my beige pants where the hem was coming loose. Quite
frankly, if she hired me it would be a miracle because
I
wouldn’t hire what was staring back at me from that window.

Rufus, my lazy Rhodesian Ridgeback, sat in the
passenger seat, his tongue lolling about as he took in his
surroundings with fear. I didn’t blame him. He’d just survived an
over nighter with the vet. Now he was likely wondering what the
hell was next. I could feel his pain because I was wondering the
same thing. His big brown eyes caught me looking at him, so he
climbed gingerly over the handbrake, settled into the driver’s
seat, and licked the inside window until it was a foggy, slobbered
mess. Then his tongue lolled again as though happy with his
efforts.

Rufus became mine not long after David’s attack.
He was rather menacing in appearance, but that was all show because
he was a big softie. Still, his presence was a small comfort.

Twenty minutes later an older man by the name of
Stan arrived, proceeding to peer under the hood of my ancient and
rusty yellow Mazda as though it held all the secrets of the
universe. He tinkered under Suzi-Q’s hood while I glared at her.
I’d had her for over two years now. When I’d driven her out of the
second hand car yard,
Devil Gate Drive
by Suzi Quattro
blared from the speakers, so the name had stuck. I’d like to say in
all the time we’ve been together it’s been a mutually respectful
and loving relationship, but my car hated me.

Stan finished quickly, taking off after
divulging me of almost a hundred dollars. Suzi-Q, seemingly
satisfied with her new battery, purred contentedly.

“Happy now?” I hissed at her, inching carefully
back into traffic.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled up in front of a
pretty, renovated duplex in the beachside Sydney suburb of Coogee.
The driveway housed a big, blue Hilux and an empty space on the
other side, but I chose to park on the street, fearing my car would
leak oil.

I stepped out of the car and took in the quiet,
leafy surroundings. It appeared peaceful and pretty and in no way
the headquarters to an up and coming rock band. At the least there
should have been long-haired tattooed types hanging off the front
porch, cigarettes dangling out of their mouths, and empty beer cans
strewn haphazardly across the lawn.

Hoping I had the right place, I wrestled Rufus
onto his leash and we puffed our way up the drive. I rang the bell
and despite my nerves, I peeked down at Rufus sitting beside me and
giggled. He’d suffered an ear infection, and now at least ten
layers of bandage wrapped around his head, covering his ears and
winding underneath his muzzle. It wasn’t his best look.

“Mac! That’ll be your interview!” I heard called
out from inside.

A whirlwind flung open the door, and I held
tight to the leash to stop Rufus barging inside. I opened my mouth
to speak but nothing came out. The girl who stood before me
radiated sex appeal in waves. Her caramel hair hung in curls to her
waist and her skin was a rich, dusky olive. Instantly I recognised
her as Evie Jamieson, lead singer of the band my assistant
interview was for. Evie was easily recognisable, having been
splashed in the papers recently after being involved in a shooting.
Her dark chocolate eyes, warm and friendly, took us both in, and
she said something I didn’t quite catch.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” She smiled brightly. “Can I help
you?”

“Is Mackenzie Valentine here?”

“Sure. Come in.” She stood back, opening the
door wide for Rufus and me to wrestle our way through. She yelled
up the stairway to her left for Mac before waving me towards the
couch with an apologetic shrug.

“Excuse me. I have to go.”

She left in a whirlwind and from the front
window I saw her leap into the blue Hilux, reverse out the
driveway, and take off quickly down the street.

Feeling sweaty and nervous, I sat on the edge of
the couch and fought to pull myself together. With no time to fuss
on my hair, I’d tucked it under a knitted beret and brushed
carefully at the smudge on my pants from Rufus pawing them.
Finished, my gaze fell on the room. Soft, comfortable couches in
deep navy filled the living room, and a thick, cream rug contrasted
nicely with the timber flooring. The room was large and opened
towards a dining area filled with a timber table that could seat
eight people. Beyond that was the kitchen, done in glossy white
cupboards, and caesarstone bench tops.

“Quinn?”

I turned from my perusal of the downstairs area
to face the woman striding confidently towards me.

“I’m Mac.”

Mac was beautiful, almost angelic in appearance
with her long blonde waves, luminous golden skin, and fresh, pale
lemon pants.

I focused on her eyes, rich emerald in colour,
and frowned. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t believe so.” She held out her hand, and
I shook it carefully. She let go, her eyes falling on Rufus and
widening. “That’s not a dog. That’s a bloody horse!”

I looked at Rufus who stood as high as my hip.
His tail thumped as though taking Mac’s words as a compliment. “He
is
big, isn’t he? I’m used to it I guess.”

“Well let’s go sit outside then. Evie has a
little daschund called Peter so Rufus can keep him company while we
talk.”

Mac pulled two bottles of water from the fridge
before leading me through the downstairs area to an outdoor deck
made up of thick timber planks. A shade sail covered the barbecue
and outdoor seating from the bright morning sun.

Letting Rufus off his leash, I answered Mac’s
question about his injury and watched as the two dogs circled each
other as we took a seat.

She uncapped the bottle of water, took a sip,
and then picked up her pen, tapping it impatiently on the page in
front of her. “So. Shall we start?”

Making sure my phone was switched to silent, I
nodded.

“So I’ve been managing Jamieson since they
formed back in our uni days in Melbourne. We moved to Sydney last
year, and that’s when the band started to take off. Now I’m so
snowed under with work I haven’t even got the time to find my way
out of my own underpants. It’s stressful so I need someone on board
with me to help lighten the load. You come highly recommended from
Jettison Records, so I’m hoping you’re that someone,” she told
me.

I hoped I was too.

Without waiting for a response, she ran through
the finer details of the job. “Work days would be Tuesday to Friday
and Friday and Saturday nights when we have shows. Shows are almost
every weekend lately. Can you handle that?”

I nodded.

“Mostly the weekdays you’ll be manning the
office. When we have to go interstate or overseas, we’ll need you
with us. The office is just a couple of desks here in the duplex,
but it’s easier for us because the band lives here. There’s a joint
basement below where they rehearse, so having the office here makes
sense for now. Anyway...” she paused to take a sip of water “...do
you know anything about the band?”

“Of course. They’ve got a real alternative rock
vibe that’s huge in the indie music market, but they’re signed now,
right?” I answered.

Mac nodded.

“Your lead guitarist plays like nothing I’ve
ever seen before. Not to mention he’s gorgeous,” I added without
thinking, but I’d seen the band play on YouTube not long ago, and
the guitarist had made an impression with his lean, muscular frame
and piercing blue eyes.

Mac grinned and her eyes sparkled with mischief
as she looked over my shoulder. Then I heard a male voice from
behind me say, “Ahh, thanks I suppose.”

I winced, swallowing my embarrassment, and the
owner of the amused male voice flopped down in the chair to my
left. He shot me a lazy grin that had my lips twitching despite the
heat in my cheeks.

“This is Henry. He lives on this side of the
duplex with Evie and me. Henry, this is Quinn. Our new band
assistant,” she added.

He leaned forward and held out his hand. I wiped
my sweaty palms discreetly before taking it in mine, glancing at
Mac open mouthed in shock as I did so.

“I got the job?”

Mac glared at Henry, who still had hold of my
hand. He smirked at her before letting it go.

She faced me again. “Of course. I like you. I
like your dog. Henry likes you, don’t you, Henry?”

“Sure I do,” he replied. He ran his hands
through short, choppy blond hair before relaxing back in his seat,
tilting his head, and closing his eyes to soak up the rays of
sun.

“Look, Quinn. Let’s cut the bullshit,” Mac said,
and Henry snorted. “I need you and I don’t have time to waste.”

“Oh…uh…don’t you want to know anything about
me?”

“I’ve read your resume and references, so what
else can you tell me?”

“Uh, like personal stuff?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

“Well I don’t go out much,” I replied honestly,
“and I like to read.”

“Great, though this job might involve you going
out a bit more than ‘not much.’ Are you okay with that?”

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