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five years and I needed a break. I’d learned a while ago that the industry and the people in it will take and take. And after they’ve sucked all the life out of you, they’ll just move on to the next rising star. There’s always someone else nipping at your heels in this business.
    “No chance we can put it off until next month some time?”
    “None, they want to start filming by then.”
    I rubbed my hand over my face. “What do you need from me?”
    “To be available. They’re gonna want to meet with you. Next week probably.”
    I’d planned on relaxation only this month, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up.
    “Let me know when and where.”
    “Good.”
    “Oh, Troy. One stipulation. I’d want some creative control and I want it clear that my family is not a part of this. They’re not going to be on camera and there’ll be no discussion on my mom’s many issues. Think that’ll be a problem?”
    “Probably not. We can see if they’ll name you as a producer on the show. I don’t think it’d be a deal breaker. They seem to be about exposing behind the scenes of the hip-hop world more than anything,” he said.
    “Great. Let’s make this happen then.”

 
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
    I paced the front porch and waited for Mason to arrive. I didn’t want him ringing the bell because then I’d have to play twenty questions with my mother.
    Skye and I had settled on my dark skinny jeans with heels and a basic black tank with a white silk vest over top. I’d worn my hair down and waves cascaded down my back. I had no idea what he had planned but my ensemble straddled the line between dressy and casual.
    I was also wearing my period panties. That’s what Skye and I called our ugliest granny panties. Those you wouldn’t think twice about wearing when Aunt Flo came for a visit.
    Skye and I had instituted the ten-date-rule in college. No getting naked before that. Let’s face it, college is full of first freedoms, alcohol and a lot of hormones. The last thing either of us wanted to become was a cliché college girl who boinked every guy after she got out from under her parent’s thumb.
    Most guys didn’t make it to date three. It was one of the ways I knew if I really liked someone. If I cringed at the thought that a guy might make it to date eleven, I knew he wasn’t for me.
    Mason was off the charts hot. Hence, period panties. There was no way, no matter how in the moment or turned on you were, you’d ever let a guy like Mason see you in granny panties. They were a modern-day chastity belt.
    A car engine sounded down the street, and I heard the thrum of a bassline. Mason’s white Range Rover pulled into the driveway. I made my way to the vehicle with hurried steps, eager to get in the car in case my mom poked her head out the door.
    “You didn’t have to wait outside for me. I could’ve come to the door,” Mason said.
    He was dressed in a pair of distressed jeans with a beige designer T-shirt that was moulded to the muscles underneath. His cologne was an enticing mix of wood and leather. God, the sight of him was enough to make my knees weak. Add in his scent and the female population didn’t stand a chance.
    Thank. God. For. Period. Panties.
    I realized I was staring at him like an idiot. Again.
    “Oh, it’s no problem. It’s a nice evening to sit outside.”
    He gave me a big smile. “I’m glad you think so. I thought we could eat out on the deck tonight.”
    I swallowed, hard. “We’re going back to your place for dinner?” I asked, hearing the mild panic in my voice.
    “If that’s okay with you.”
    I nodded.
    “Great.”
    He reversed the vehicle and in minutes we were sailing down the expressway toward the ocean. The ride to the beach house was quiet because I was nervous as hell and didn’t know what to say. Mason let me pick the music again so I was humming along with Neil Young as we pulled into the driveway.
    We parked and he opened his door and walked around to open