Fireworks 1 and 2

Chapter Fifty-Eight

    The following day, the day of the VMAs, could be summed up in one word: madness. Mia saw a side of Drake she hadn't really seen before. Up until this point, she'd seen Drake the entertainer, Drake the friend, Drake the workaholic, and Drake the six god/sex god - but the day of the VMAs, she was finally introduced to Drake the businessman. He barked orders at his friends and staff while replying to text messages in his phone. No frills, no wasted words. All business, wanting to make sure everyone - including himself - stayed on track.

    No one complained. Everyone hopped to action and did as they were told. Even OB, who was usually guaranteed to throw in a joke or two, knew that today wasn't the day for joking.

    Whenever Drake had a rare free moment, he would pace in the living room while singing the lyrics to the song he would perform that evening. He sang with his eyes closed, while moving his hands through the air.

    A hair and makeup team was brought in for Mia. She was used to dressing herself and doing her own makeup, other than the occasional salon visit, so entrusting her hair and face to a team of strangers was a process.

    Drake, who loaned the use of his bedroom to the stylists, instructed the team to keep Mia's natural curls intact while styling her hair.

    Mia had stared at him in disbelief. "Thank you, for choosing how I would wear my hair tonight," she told him.

    He'd shrugged with a boyish grin. "I like your hair curly."

    It was difficult to stay indignant when that smile was so damned charming. She rolled her eyes and sat in the chair placed in front of the makeshift vanity the hair stylist set up near the bedroom's balcony window.

    While the stylists worked on her hair, Drake leaned a hip against the vanity and explained the night's events. "The VMA's are pretty casual and laid back in comparison to the Grammys," he told her. "So there's not much pressure. As soon as we get out of the limo, we will walk the red carpet. Red carpet walking is basically waving at the fans. I shake a few hands. The media outlets will want photos, so there will be quite a few of those. Some of the media I will grant a brief interview. Who am I wearing, which projects am I working on, who did I bring with me? Those questions are standard." He paused. "They may speak to you directly. If they do, make sure you know the name of the designer who made your dress. Roberto Cavalli. And if they ask questions about us..."

    She arched an eyebrow at him while the hairstylist tugged on her hair.

    "Just answer honestly," he told her. "If they ask how long we've been seeing each other, they don't need to know all of that. Brush them off with something cute, like... 'Wouldn't you like to know?'"

    "I can do that," she said.

    "We'll talk more in the limo," he told her. "I have to go and check on the boys. There are a few other loose ends I need to tie up." He looked over at the slender, pale-skinned brunette who was working on Mia's hair. "Are you good here?"

    The stylist nodded. "I'm not new to this, Aubrey."

    He gave her a pat on the back as he walked past her.

    Once he was out of the room, Mia looked up at the hair stylist. "Telling me how to wear my hair. Coaching me on how to answer questions about our relationship. My boyfriend. Isn't he romantic?"

    The stylist laughed. "I've done styling for a lot of celebs, honey. Trust me, that comes with the territory."

    "Does it, really?" Mia muttered, narrowing her eyes at her reflection. "Not to waste all of the work you've already done, but I don't want to wear my hair curly tonight. I want to wear it straight. I want a pin-up girl look."