Page 100 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

I thought Seb would read me the riot act, but he was surprisingly subdued. “I’ve been in your shoes, you know.”

“Bullshit. Baxter might be your creation, but this is my fucking life. You have no clue.”

He glowered. “I know you better than you think. Sometimes I’m jealous that you get to act and live out this superhero life that I dreamed up, but I know it’s not easy.”

“Hmph.”

“Something must have happened with the assistant,” he guessed.

“Shut up, Seb.”

“If it’s serious, I told you…let me know and I’ll fix it so we can write him into the script. He’s a designer, right? I’ll hire him and—”

“You don’t fucking get it. I don’t want your help,” I roared.

“Got it.” He held his hands up in surrender. “Can I ask what happened without you ripping my balls off?”

“Yeah, he wants to be friends…to protect me.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want a friend and I don’t want a fake girlfriend. I don’t want leeches dictating my life. And I don’t want to wait around in the shadows till you magically make everything better for me. You’re not a fucking fairy godmother, and I am not your fucking puppet.”

Seb lifted a brow. “I think I’d rather be a fairy godfather.”

I fixed him with a deadpan stare. “You’re a piece of work.”

He sighed heavily and sank into the gray, stained upholstery. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was serious. You didn’t tell me.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. It’s not your business. It’smylife.”

“You’re right. I know that.” He nudged my knee. “Can I give you some advice?”

I snorted. “Jesus. No.”

“Too bad. I’m giving it anyway. If you think you’ve found someone who makes you feel complete, grab it and hold on tight. Life is too short.”

I stared at him for a long moment. “That’s actually decent advice.”

“I have my moments,” he commented. “Hey, I want you to do well and be happy—and not just because it’s good for the studio or my bank account. I care about you, Pierce. I care a great deal. Yeah, sometimes you drive me crazy and annoy the fuck out of me, but you’re family to me—and no one fucks with my family or their happiness. Certainly not me.”

Silence.

Well, not really. The old Madonna song on the taxi’s radio was giving my eardrums a workout. But the wave of frustration and anger I’d been riding slowly dissipated to a tolerable hum.

“You know, I really want to hate you.”

Seb winked. “I make it hard, don’t I?”

“Yeah.Thanks,” I rasped. “I care about you too.”

“You fucking love me. PS, I don’t accept your resignation,” he chided, checking his watch. “Christ, Hal is going to kill us.”

“Just tell him Baxter has something to take care of first.”

* * *

First on myagenda was to call my fucking brother.