When Sean got home it was eight-thirty and the king and queen of his entourage had already assembled. Jake stood beside Pip, who ate from his food bowl, and Macie was sipping coffee while perched atop a barstool. “You’re late,” she said.
“I told you I’d be here a little after eight.” He glanced at Jake and lifted a hand in greeting. “Thanks for feeding Pip.”
“No problem,” Jake answered. “Now, into the shower. We don’t have time to waste.”
“I know, I know.”
Sean showered and when he emerged from the steam-filled bathroom, he found Jake had already set out his clothing. Sean wondered if Emerson would think it funny that Sean rarely picked out his own outfits. He lacked an eye for fashion. Jake, as his publicist, was well versed in the latest trends. Sean had to dress the part of a pop st
