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like a whore suddenly. Was I the only one foolish enough to take this all seriously?
    “Fuck you, James Turner,” I said totally out of character. I was mad and hurt and wa nted nothing more than to leave but I wasn’t going to. I had a job to do. Whether James took me seriously or not, I was going to be the best agent he’d ever had. He might not care, but I did and I was going to do this for me. I was determined to show everyone that I wasn’t just a pawn in their stupid games. Hopefully, James would get tired of me and move onto some other girl so I could just do my job and forget about him. At least I hoped I could forget about him.
    James didn’t respond, only sipping his Coke as he reclined in his chair. He wore a self-satisfied smile on his face as he stroked his wild goatee. As quickly as my tempered flared, it was gone. It was hard to find and always short-lived. I almost regretted saying those things but James deserved them. Sometimes I wish I could just be a bitch and not worry about it, but I always felt guilty after my temper faded. “I’m sorry for saying that,” I offered sheepishly.
    “Hey, I’m an easy going guy. I used to get all uptight about stuff but life’s short. You’re forgiven,” he said. Now I was apologizing and begging forgiveness while James was the one taking advantage of the situation. He was the one pawing at me. I sighed and let it go. Whatever. He was the client and I suppose he got a little grace. He didn’t deserve it but he was going to get it. I was pretty sure I’d meet a lot of egomaniacs in this business and I had better get used to it.
    “Thanks,” I replied, as a good agent should. Monica brought our food and it was amazing. I was thankful for the distraction. My filet was perfect and the mac and cheese was to die for. I mean it. It was creamy, rich and darn near orgasm inducing, though I had far too few good orgasms to compare it to. The food took the edge off and helped me relax. After I was done, I’m not sure anything James said could have upset me. I hadn’t been fed that well in months, maybe since the last time I was home.
    “So, you ready for dessert?” James asked. I glared at him expecting another pass at me but James added, “Lyle makes a kickass cheesecake.” I relaxed and shook my head.
    “No, I don’t think I can eat another bite. That’s sounds good though,” I replied.
    “Then I’ll order some to go. You might get hungry later. It’s going to be a long night,” James said and I immediately bristled again. He just couldn’t stop with the suggestive comments.
    “Look, I’m not going to…,” I began to tell him before he interrupted.
    “Hey, settle down. You’re coming to my house. You’re my agent whether you want to be or not. You better get to know me and Battery’s music. You can’t very well represent us if you can’t even recognize our music when you hear it. Besides, I think you’ll come to like it,” he clarified. He was right, damn him.
    “Sorry,” I said on the defensive again. “You’re not going to make me listen to your albums, are you?” I asked. James had me on edge almost constantly. If he wasn’t making me wet just being himself, he was hitting on me or bringing out my temper. Then he’d say something reasonable and I’d feel bad for getting angry. Then I was all hot and bothered again.
    “All night, little girl,” he said calling me by his pet name. I wanted to find that demeaning and I promise you, I tried, but it was growing on me. I let it pass. James was being James and my job wasn’t to babysit him or turn him into a gentleman. I was his agent.
    “Great,” I replied not disguising my displeasure a t the prospect of listening to Battery’s brand of noise all night. James laughed and looked as if he knew something I didn’t. We left his steakhouse and repeated the greetings but in reverse. Monica handed James a plastic bag, the cheesecake I assumed. Everyone had hugs and goodbyes for James