Hooligan Thoughts

Imagine This

"Bruno, you don't have to keep calling me "baby." We're not drunk anymore," Tasha says sliding off the bed.

"I wasn't drunk," Bruno says, sliding over to grab her back to him. With one arm he holds the woman while the other adjusts the pillows. Before she knows it she's snuggled around this man again. Tasha knows as good as he smells and feels this was just a one night stand and she's got to protect Bruno, her client, for both their sakes.

"It doesn't matter. You are late and your girlfriend's gotta be wonderin' where you're at." She pushed away from him and made it all the way out of the bed.

"No, when I work late I stay here all the time. Being close to the studio keeps me from having to get up so early when I meet with the exec's."

"Well it's Saturday and there are no EXEC's gonna meet with anybody on a Saturday. Monday –too early, yes. Saturday – no way. They are at the golf course maybe, schmoozing always, or working on their fake tans. B., can I call you B.? No, of course, I can't. I work for you. What was I thinking last night? Bruno, we've got less than an hour before checkout and your girl's not gonna tolerate this. You'd better buy her some flowers. Go ahead and get in the shower. They got a pot for coffee around here?"

"By the sink," Bruno answered, amused by his engineer. Nat, as he had decided to call her, had been assigned to him when he rented studio time for his newest album. The company was exclusive, providing their clientele with sound engineers and guaranteeing professional outcomes with the best track records in the recording industry. He was told Nat was the best having earned five of her own Grammy's, thus far. Until now, Bruno had never seen her nervous. She'd been his rock when he was unsure of a note, a phrase, or a hook. They'd been compatible from the moment they met. Nat could read him and act on his thoughts almost before he could say them. She'd been the best engineer he'd had since Ari.

"Nat, no hurry," he assured her. "The hotel knows me well. I leave extra for a tip and all's good."

"Oh my god, this is worse than I thought. I'd heard you were a playboy but I didn't believe it. I thought you really loved Christina. And now I am part of your torrid harem." Tasha had scrambled to start the coffee for her client and attempted but failed to clean herself up, all the while panicking over the nonchalant behavior of Bruno. Bruno – she'd never seen him so relaxed. Tasha didn't realize she was staring at the man. There were no deep, cute cheek dimples, no happy laugh lines, or the innocent bright, exploring eyes she was accustomed to seeing in the booth. He wasn't serious either. His jaw didn't jut out and his eyes did not bore laser beams through her like they did when he was deep in the zone. Bruno's face and body language exuded a certain ease and comfort level, which made her very uncomfortable. Suddenly aware of her surroundings, Natasha's voice squeaked out, "Will you please get into the shower before I have a heart attack!"

"Nat, I'm not with Chris anymore." Tasha turned on a dime, causing her elbow to get stuck in the armhole of her sweater. She gawked at him.

"What?"

"Come here an' sit down. Sounds like we need ta talk." Tasha fixed her top and pulled on her jeans. She walked to the side of the bed and sat. Her eyes didn't leave Bruno's face. She knew she was in love with him and he could never know. There was no fraternizing with clients. Besides, he was Bruno Mars – way out of her league. Maybe she should let him know.

"Bruno, I know I'm not for you. I could never live up to your expectations. This was a one-time thing which I will never mention and which I'm sure you'll forget about by this afternoon." Tasha stopped and moved her head sideways. "Really? You and Christina? She was the best girlfriend of an artist I ever dealt with. Most of 'em show up in the mornings, the afternoons, and pick their men up in the evenings just because they were "driving by." I've never seen so much jealousy. Christina never did that. I figured you all had this great, trusting relationship. What happened?" Then she had a thought, "Ah, this hotel, the other women. I understand –a man in your position . . . it's gotta be hard. My lips are sealed. No one will hear a thing from m-."