The Publicist's Plight (Book I in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Sixty Two: Like Father, Like Son

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SEBASTIAN

"Bro, look over there."

Trevor slaps my shoulder, bringing my attention—and the attention of Franklin and Chris—to a table behind us at the restaurant we're at—The Cabana on Melrose. The four women sitting there gives us smiles that say, "If you let me, I'll gladly blow you in the back." Don't get me wrong—they're hot. All four of them. But my mind is a little preoccupied on other things.

"You eyeing the redhead?" Franklin asks me. I didn't even realize the girl was a redhead; that's how much I don't care.

"Um...nah, not really. Not my type."

My friends stare at me like I have five heads. Trevor downs his drink and narrows his eyes.

"Hold up, hold up. Four hot chicks are staring our way—four that you know you can score all at once, and you're looking like your dog just died. What's up, man?"

"Nothing's up." Lies. "I've just got a lot of shit I've got to take care of."

"Is this about Felicity?" Chris asks me. "'Cause if you aren't hitting that anymore, I'll gladly oblige; I'm sure she'd be down for Team Swirl."

I laugh. "Man, you can have her. She's fucking crazy."

I don't say that lightly. Ever since I left her at the party last night, Felicity has been blowing up my phone; 40 missed calls are cramping up my recents. That, on top of Sarah doing the same for a different reason. I replied to Sarah, telling her what happened and not to talk to Leslie about it, either.

After leaving her apartment this morning, I haven't been able to stop worrying about her. She's a big girl, I know—but fuck, that doesn't mean I can't worry, right? And it's bad enough Claude hasn't gotten back to me; I've been eying my phone all morning since I showered and came here, waiting for his call on the intel I asked him to sniff up.

Oh, shit—I still need to figure out how to pull off dinner tomorrow night. I decided on Surf and Turf earlier this afternoon, and sent Lucas out to get all of the stuff I need. Now I just need to make it taste good, and on my own, too; no help from my cook, Viv.

"Excuse me."

All four of us turn to the petite redhead walking towards our table. She stands close to where I sit, eying me with mischievous blue eyes and pushing out her tits that are close to popping out of her tank top.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she says, her voice soft and alluring.

"No bother at all," Franklin tells her, smiling. She glances at him before looking back at me.

"Um...you're Sebastian Harrison, right?" she asks me.

I nod, and she chuckles down at her nails.

"This is so crazy, and I wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for my friends over there encouraging me to talk to you, but they know how hot I think you are so they kind of dared me to do this."

You can practically see the green radiating from my friends by how envious they are. I try to revel in the moment, but I can't seem to. This girl is insanely hot, and usually by this point, I would ask her out for drinks later on tonight. But I'm just...silent—not wanting to be rude by dismissing her yet not wanting to be encouraging by returning her advances, either.

Is this what it's like when your big head starts thinking for your little head for once?

Redhead pulls out a pen and starts writing her name on a napkin.