Chapter One
Camden
“Duuuuuuude.” Viktor Abbott grabs my shoulder and shakes me until my head bobbles like a Funko Pop. “Your contract just got renewed. Why do you look like someone pissed in your Lucky Charms?”
“This is just my face,” I argue.
Viktor spreads his arms wide. In the process, he almost knocks Knight’s beer into his lap. “But we’re in a comedy club!”
Knight leans forward, deadpan. “He’s conserving energy. Laughing burns calories.”
Tristan lifts his beer. “Not in his case. Cam could laugh for an hour and still have abs carved by God himself. Because he doesn’t drink beer.”
“Blasphemy,” Viktor mutters, crossing himself with his plastic cup.
I cross my arms over my chest. “And the comedy hasn’t started yet. The club itself is not humorous. I’m not obligated to laugh just because we’re inside.”
On my right, Bowen snorts. “Can you imagine?”
“Trust me, I’ll be laughing plenty during Geo’s set.
” When the guys asked me what I wanted to do to celebrate my contract renewal, supporting Geo was the obvious answer.
For one thing, Geo’s fucking hilarious. He likes to tell me that I’m his emotional support autistic, since he loves the spotlight, and I’d just as soon be in the audience.
This is the secret second perk of bringing the guys to a show: I will not be expected to talk.
I like my teammates—even more so now that Chad is gone—but I’m not always great at making small talk with them.
“Good. As team captain. I’ll be watching to make sure that you are sufficiently entertained by the event you chose.” Viktor bumps his plastic beer cup against mine in a toast.
“You’re like the guy who brings his Employee of the Month plaque to dinner,” Knight says.
Tristan groans. “Don’t encourage him. He’s going to start wearing a whistle to practice.”
“Tempting,” Viktor fires back.
Owen snorts. “You do, and I’m slashing your tires.”
Bowen pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ, will you shut up about the team captain thing? You don’t have to start every sentence by reminding us of your title. It’s been, like, a year.”
“A year of superior captaincy,” Viktor retorts.
Owen digs into the red plastic basket lined with white paper. “These wings are sub-par.”
I should probably say something to move the conversation along.
Unfortunately, I’m not good at thinking up stuff on the fly.
My brain barfs out a few suggestions at random: So I just read this article about compostable furniture made entirely from mushroom proteins.
Nope. Did you know that nature loves crabs?
Independent species of crustaceans have evolved into crabs on at least five distinct occasions!
Skip. Do you ever think about how the color you describe as blue might not look the same to you as the color I call blue?
No, no, no. This is why I keep my mouth shut.
There’s only one person I know who would appreciate those topics, and she’s not here.
I picture Dot, chin propped on her hand, eyes lit up like she’s collecting constellations. She’d ask me to explain the crab thing twice, then turn it into a joke about emotional evolution. God, I miss her laugh.
Knight comes to the rescue while I’m sorting through the sea of conversation enders that I’m currently rejecting.
“Hey, Vik, how was that new restaurant? Knova told me that you finally got in, but I haven’t talked to her about it yet.”
“Oh, man.” Viktor swoons. “You mean Gemelli’s?
Holy shit, it was incredible. We had to make reservations, like, five months in advance, but it was worth the wait.
They do this tasting menu. The names are confusing, it’s shit like ‘burnt sugar custard with a Himalayan sea salt and grapefruit foam’ or whatever.
I thought it was going to be overpriced and overhyped, but I’m telling you, everything was fantastic. ”
“Are you telling us that as the team captain?” Bowen asks.
Tristan’s been listening from Bowen’s other side, and he cracks up at the question.
“Yuck it up, dipstick.” Viktor flips him the bird. “I’m telling you, it’s romantic, the atmosphere is great, and the food is to die for. It’s a great date spot. You should take Vi sometime.”
I pull out my phone to look up the restaurant.
He’s right about the menu—I don’t know what half these words mean, and the other half make sense on their own but don’t sound like they should go together.
The pictures are gorgeous, though. There’s even an upscale cocktail menu and wine pairing. It does look like a great date spot.
Even though I am dateless.
My finger hovers over the screen. This is stupid. She’s probably busy. She might say no.
But maybe…
Maybe if I book the table, I’ll finally ask.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I tap the call button and press the phone to my ear. Maybe if I have a reservation, I can work up the courage to invite Dot.
The phone rings three times before the house lights go down.
Crap, the show’s about to start. I should just hang up.
We’re right up front, because I wanted to make sure that Geo would see our faces when we cheered for him, but the plan has already backfired.
I should cut my losses and call later. I pull the phone away from my ear to hit the end call button, but the call connects a split second before my thumb meets the screen.
“Gemelli’s. How may I assist you?” a voice on the other line says.
“Hello, beautiful people of Las Vegas!” Geo strides out onstage, mic in hand. I freeze like a deer in headlights.
Geo is about to go into some schtick, probably about Vegas people and whether “beautiful” is an appropriate adjective to describe us. Then his eyes land on me, and his mouth curls up into the biggest shit-eating grin imaginable.
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” He sits down on the edge of the stage and holds out his hand.
“Folks, this is my good buddy Camden Beck—yes, a round a of applause from the Vegas Venom fans in the house!—and he’s on a phone call that apparently couldn’t wait until after my set. Let’s see who it is, shall we?”
“N-no…” I stammer.
Too late. Geo plucks the phone from my hands, sets the audio to speaker, and holds it up to the mic.
“Hello?” The person on the other end sounds pissed. “Can you hear me?”
“Sure can.” Geo winks at the crowd, who laugh at my expense. I slide down in my chair and try my hardest to disappear into the floor. No such luck. “May I ask who I’m speaking with?”
“The maitre’d at Gemelli’s,” the guy snaps.
“Gemelli’s?” Geo waggles his eyebrows at the room. “I’ve heard nothing but good things. Very posh. Very atmospheric. Shall we make a reservation? A table for two?”
From our table, Viktor yells, “Make it four! I’m free that night!”
Knight: “Five if it’s open bar.”
Tristan cups his hands around his mouth. “Tell ’em the team captain demands it!”
Geo points their way. “See, that’s what friendship sounds like, folks—pure sabotage. So Cam, still want that elusive reservation?”
I cover my face with my hands, but I nod.
The maitre’d sniffs. “I can get you in, sir. Unfortunately, it will be three months from now. I’m afraid I can’t do any sooner.”
A few people whistle and gasp. Geo’s body language speaks volumes. He winks at the crowd and shimmies his shoulders. “Three months? I look forward to it. What time?” He makes a big deal about opening my calendar and setting an alert for the event.
After he hangs up, Geo doesn’t return my phone. “So, Cam, now that we’re all invested in your looooong wait for this table for two, do we get to know who the lucky lady might be?”
Her name fills my mouth like sugar and smoke. But I don’t say it. Not here. Not yet.
Not until I know she’ll say yes.
I shake my head and hold out my hand, eager to get my phone back.
“No? You’re going to leave us all hanging?” Geo gestures to the crowd. “Think of the people!”
A few people start heckling me. It’s all in good fun, and my friends are the loudest of the bunch. I don’t say a word. If I blab now, it’ll get back to Dot before I have a chance to ask her out. At least I have plenty of time.
By the time the laughter dies down, I’m half-buried in my seat. Geo’s moved on to another bit, but my face is molten.
Knight leans over. “Three months from now, you’re taking her, right?”
I nod once. “Yeah.”
Bowen snorts. “Then you better pray she’s not with someone else.”
The guys crack up again, and somehow, I’m laughing too.
For once, the noise doesn’t bother me. It feels like the start of something good.
I don’t care if it takes more than three months. I’ll wait. For her, I’d wait forever.