Chapter 10 #2
"Sorry about that but these people are my customers," I say.
"I don't want them to think badly of me.
" I'm not sure why I feel the need to explain myself because it is all so blatantly obvious.
And that might be exactly why I felt the need to explain, because Dane lives in a different dimension, a dimension of privilege and arrogance, so regular everyday things are not obvious at all.
He grew up poor, but he never held onto that specialness, that raw realness that came with being poor.
Instead, he acts like a man who was born into a world of expensive cars and bloated trust funds.
I wish he'd held onto the poor Dane more.
Something tells me I would like him better.
A gray van pulls into the parking lot. It's Nate's band van. Some of the women start calling out to them as they drive through to the back alley where they'll unload their instruments and speakers.
"Guess this singer is a real hotshot," Dane says. "I listened to them online." Dane shrugs. "I think he's mediocre at best. Just wrapped in a package that all the girls like." He says it loud enough to garner a few glares from women in line.
"Nate has a voice that's one-half whiskey and one-half honey, and the package is just a nice bonus," I say. "And he's got a tankful of charisma."
Dane's dark brows flatten with sternness. "So, you know him well? Don't tell me you're one of those crazy chicks who follows the guy's every move on social media and knows about every part of his life."
"Don't need to follow him on social media.
" I look up at Dane. "Once, when I was ten and Nate must have been seven or something, I held his cracked skull together after he jumped out of the loft in his dad's barn.
Everyone else was too grossed out, so I sat there calmly with him and told him I would make sure his brain stayed in his head till the ambulance arrived.
He was amazingly calm about the whole thing, although he probably wouldn't have been if he'd seen the deep fissure in his skull. "
Dane stares at me a moment, apparently thinking I'm going to end the whole story with a laugh and a "just kiddin'" but I can still remember the whole thing vividly …
unfortunately. I did get home that night and break down in sobs from the shock of it, but I kept my cool at the right time.
Maybe I really was a guardian angel. It figures that the heavens would put me in charge of the Wilde boys.
Guess a girl could really earn her wings with that bunch.
"Well shit, Nev, that's a crazy-ass story. You really are incredible. That's why we belong together." Not entirely sure I follow his logic on that connection. He spots something over my shoulder and frowns. "Damnit, didn't expect to see those guys here tonight."
I turn with an airy look to see who he's talking about and instantly my calm, cool demeanor is wiped clear away. The usual heart jumpstart happens and then slowly calms back down. Zander, Jameson, Indi, and one half of the famous Wilde twins, Ronan, are walking up to the line.
Zander is wearing a dark gray shirt over black jeans and cowboy boots, and I can't help but think he looks like he just walked onto the set of a Hollywood Western.
He's definitely the leading man. He spots me in line, and, as usual, our gazes clash and hold and that weird flow of electricity shoots back and forth and then snap, he pulls his gaze away. Now he's focused on Dane.
"Do you know them?" I ask Dane, confused.
"They're doing some work for me at my latest project, and the big one, Zander, he's a total asshole." He just finishes his comment when the group meets up with me.
"Hey, Nevvie, didn't expect to see you," Zander is smiling. He doesn't notice that I'm not just standing by Dane, I'm with him.
"Don't call her that," Dane says sharply.
"Uh sorry, Hoffman, we're not on site right now, and you don't know—" He pauses and looks from me to Dane and then back at me. A laugh shoots out of his mouth. "No fucking way. Nevvie, tell me I'm hallucinating. You're not standing with this—"
Jameson smacks his shoulder before he can finish his sentence.
"Hey, Hoffman, good to see you. Nevada, good to see you," Jameson says in his best impersonation of a gentleman.
If not for Jameson's ability to act polite even when he's not feeling it, their company would go belly up.
Jameson knows exactly how to talk to customers.
He's got that charismatic, suave thing down, one of the few helpful traits he learned from his dad.
Zander, on the other hand, is like the proverbial "bull in the China shop" when it comes to dealing with customers.
Indiana winks at me but keeps out of the small fire that's blowing around us on the sidewalk.
There's really only one major flame, and it's Zander.
And now my intuition is telling me "I fucking told you so.
" The worst part about it is that I hate the way Zander is looking at me, almost accusatory, as if I'm somehow cheating on him.
A whistle catches everyone's attention. It's Jocko, the bouncer for Gold Rush. "Hey, Jameson, you guys are wanted inside. Nate's asking for you." Everyone turns our direction.
Ronan heads off first, and the others peel off and follow.
Zander is the last to walk away, and he stares at me long enough that I feel his stare burned into my vision, like staring at two headlights for a long time.
I watch him walk away with that angry, stubborn set of his massive shoulders, a shoulder tension I've seen so often that it, too, is almost burned into my vision.
"How come they get to go in? I thought it was against Rockhurst vibes," Dane says the last part like a snotty teen. I'm done with the night, and I haven't even stepped inside yet.
I look up at him, and he's wearing a snarl to go with the snotty teen tone. "The rules don't apply to the Wildes."
He scoffs. "Those dirt lugging apes? Why the hell not?"
"Cuz the whole Rockhurst vibe circles around the Wilde family."
Dane looks puzzled and plenty irritated.
"You'd have to have grown up here to understand." The line has started moving, and my date is no longer smiling. And now I know there's nothing but tension and grumbly remarks waiting for us once we get inside. "You sure you still want to go in?" I ask.
Dane nods. "Hell yes. After I saw the look on Zander's face when he realized that you and I were together—well, let's just say I learned a helluva lot from that one look. Looking forward to parading you around in there. He obviously likes you."
"First of all, I'm not a float to be paraded, and Zander and I grew up together.
We have a long history, and the man has so many women, he starts to forget their names.
Seriously. It's irritating. But you do your male ego thing, and I'll play the pretty little float.
" I smile up at him with a sugary sweet smile.
"No, you're right, Nev, that was wrong of me to say. It's just, I'm proud to be with you. You're smart, beautiful, successful—"
"Go on," I say teasingly. The man is trying so hard.
I'm not sure why I keep pushing against it.
Maybe Kinsley is right when she tells me I'm a hopeless un-romantic, or maybe he's just not the one.
It would be darn convenient if he were though because he's got a nice list of attributes, too.
"Look, if you're determined to get the authentic Rockhurst experience, then a few hours inside a crowded Gold Rush will do it.
We don't have to stay long, but I don't like dancing, so if you're feeling twinkle-toesy, you'll have to ask someone else to dance. It won't hurt my feelings at all."
Dane smiles at me, and it feels like we're having one of our warmer moments. "You really do pride yourself on being a party pooper, don't you?"
I laugh and bow my head at what I consider to be a compliment. He obviously finally figured that out about me, and I'm glad to see it. Something feels different. So far, it's all been a touch distant and awkward like we weren't able to find any kind of rhythm, but maybe that's changing.
"I guess we'll stick out this line, listen to the music, have a few drinks and then we'll see where the night takes us," Dane says.
"I guess we will." I'd been putting off sex with him, not sure I wanted to tangle myself deeper into the relationship, but maybe I'm being my own worst enemy, just like Kinsley likes to tell me.
My little sister could be flighty and shallow and even, on occasion, ridiculous, but she knew me well, and while she was sure I ignored most of her advice or commentary on my life, plenty of it still got through.
Of course, I wasn't going to let on to her that I was listening. She was my little sister, after all.
The line in front of us is pretty short now.
I can even see Harry's sister Marion's red cheeks as she hands out tickets at the door.
On the other hand, the line behind us has more than doubled.
It's going to be a packed house, which means dancing won't be an issue.
There won't be room for it. People will just have to stand like packed sardines, keeping their elbows close to their sides so as not to get bumped and spill their drinks.
I'm not looking forward to being jammed inside with so many people, especially certain people, or a certain person, is more accurate.
I'm hoping the suffocating scent of beer, sweat and perfume in one space will be unpleasant enough that we leave early.
In the meantime, maybe I'll put away my party pooper hat and try to have a good time.