Kalila struggled out of Ricky’s embrace. “It's important that I become famous.”
“I know.” He pushed the sheets aside and tried to pull her back to him, but she wedged a pillow between them.
“You don’t really believe it.”
“Of course I do.” He tried to move the pillow, but she had done something magical to it and he couldn't make it budge. “I wouldn’t be managing you if I didn’t think you have what it takes.”
“Liar. You manage my band because I manufactured a contract with your blood on it, not because you have any faith in my dreams.”
Ricky sighed in frustration and flopped onto his back. What was it about immortals and their lousy sense of timing? “I don’t know why you want to talk about this now.”
“It's never a bad time to talk about things that are important.”
He rolled over and looked her in the eye. “You got me on board at the beginning by forcing me to be your manager, but I believe in you now. You’re going to make it.”
Kalila gazed at him with suspicion. “You don’t mean that. Or do you?”
“You’re beautiful and talented. Your band puts on a great show. You can make it to the top. I have every confidence in you.”
“Then why is it taking so long?”
“This isn't something you can conjure like you did that bottle of scotch earlier tonight, which I appreciated, by the way.”
“I know you like single malt.”
“Unless you want to take a shortcut and win fans by magic, you'll just have to keep working hard. It'll happen, though. Really.”
Ricky tried again to move the pillow and found the spell had been removed. He tossed it aside and pulled Kalila close, forgetting as he lost himself in the heat of her body that she was a djinn and he a mere mortal. He, of all people, understood that sometimes the biggest and most improbable dreams came true.