Chapter Nineteen My Beverly
Chapter Nineteen
My Beverly
Griffin
I can’t see what’s outside our limo, and I don’t want to. I’m too focused on Beverly, with her heeled feet crossed at the ankles and those slender legs peeking out from the slit in her dress.
Christ, she’s gorgeous.
There’s a low hum of excited voices awaiting us outside, but this limo feels intimate. Less intimidating and crowded. Beverly’s chest rises and falls. I swallow at the same time she does.
“Are you ready?” I ask. Her stare sticks to the window. “B?”
When her eyes finally snap to mine, she nods in affirmation. I hate that the only things I can focus on are her long lashes and that damn collarbone taunting me over the neck of the dress.
E is for effervescent, and her skin glows as the light refracts through the diamonds on her choker. Her neck, for the briefest moment, is wreathed in a shimmering, ethereal rainbow. She’s otherworldly, too good for this world, a visitor gracing me and everyone around with the gift of her presence.
Robin would have hated coming to this event. I wonder if Beverly does too.
“Are you ready?” I ask again.
Beverly nods. “Mm-hmm. I’m ready.”
“You sure?”
She lets out a breathy laugh. “Yes. Let’s do this.”
“Right. Okay.” I adjust in my seat, reach for the handle, then freeze. “It’ll be bright out there, though.”
“I bet.”
“And hot. The lights are surprisingly very hot.”
“Griffin, let’s go.”
She pulls her shoulders back and raises her chin high. The diamonds float up with the new posture, revealing the top of those collarbones.
Those damn—
The limo door whips open by another hand. Bright lights flash. Voices attack. And Beverly’s expression immediately weakens at the sight beyond the safety of our dark limo.
I step out first. Cameras snap, blinding me with spots of light and noise. I extend a palm back to Beverly. She’s frozen. I take her shaking hand into mine, holding it tight and escorting her out of her seat. Her subsequent smile, though forced, is still devastatingly pretty.
I transfer my hand from her palm to her lower back as we walk.
Beverly stands closer to me, in a shy way like Ava does when she’s meeting strangers.
I wind my palm around to the dip in her waist. She takes a fistful of my suit jacket.
I can see her heartbeat through her neck, bouncing the diamonds and shimmering them in the lights.
Her eyes are wide, like a doe in headlights.
She’s scared.
I don’t know why I do it, but I bring my opposite index finger to her chin, hook it underneath, and tip her face up so she looks at me. Beverly blinks, dazed from the lights and flashing cameras. The thumping diamonds momentarily freeze.
“You all right?” I ask on a breath.
“Yes,” she whispers back. Her green eyes don’t leave me for a second.
“I got you, okay?”
Without hesitation, she says, “Okay.” I believe you.
Camera flashes explode in clicking, frantic shutters. I grip her dress’s silky fabric to hold her closer, murmuring in her ear, “And you belong here, okay?”
She stares at me, biting her bottom lip, bashfully averting her eyes.
I take her chin again, tipping it back up.
“Okay?” I repeat.
She nods. “Okay.”
I trust you.
“Griffin! Griffin, over here!”
Photographers and interviewers yell my name and attempt to call hers by saying “Betty,” “Brittney,” or, completely off base, “Belinda.” I ignore them all, guiding her down the carpet as fast as we can manage.
Beverly clutches me tighter, and my palm spans the width of her waist. The dress is smooth and soft.
My thumb nudges her inner elbow, which is even softer, and she leans that much closer.
We finally turn the corner—off the carpet and away from photographers—and head up the stairs, into the award-show ballroom. The air is much cooler here. The noise more subdued. Beverly finally lets out a heaving sigh that sounds more like a groan.
I chuckle. “More or less risky than the thought of skinny-dipping?”
She bursts into a laugh. “Oh, shush.”
I slide my hand from her waist down to the small of her back as we’re escorted to our table. But when we round the corner, three familiar grinning faces are already seated.
Poe, Dom, and Royce recline in their chairs, fitted in similar black suits. Poe wears a stylish houndstooth vest underneath his jacket, Royce’s bowtie is somehow already a little loose, and Dom’s suit looks untouched and crisp as he quietly sips a fizzing soda.
“Man, we have to sit next to you guys all night?” I joke, making Dom beam and Royce cup his hand around his mouth and croon, “Boo!”
“You’re one to talk,” Poe says, glancing at my baby blue suit with a cackle. “You look like 1970s prom Barbie or something.”
“Ken,” Royce corrects.
“Whatever,” Poe says through laughter. “But, Lord above, who is this spectacular beauty?”
My hand grips Beverly’s silky dress. “This is my…” My date? My fake girlfriend? “Beverly.”
My Beverly?
Nobody else catches my slipup except Dom. That’s the thing about drummers. From the back, they see it all. He smirks.
“Well, hello there, Beverly,” Poe says, leaning an elbow on the table.
“Beverly, this is my band. They record with me, tour with me…couldn’t do any of this without them. That’s Poe, Royce, and Dom.” I point to each man as I introduce them. They give accompanying waves or chin nods.
“We’re the secret to his success,” Poe jokes, holding out a palm to her.
Beverly shakes his hand with a smile. “Nice to meet you.” She squints. “Poe?”
“Yes, darling.” He’s already dazzled by her. I can’t blame him.
“Your date is the only reason we were invited,” Royce adds. “We’re here to keep an eye on him.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Beverly says. “They also needed someone to make sure he looks like he has friends. Oh wait…or is that my job?”
All three of them bust out laughing, and I can’t hide my grin either.
Beverly is in her element, entertaining the few, not the many. Cameras aren’t her forte. But people she can entertain with ease.
“So, Beverly, how has our Griffin been faring up in the mountains?” Poe continues.
“Complains about the cold a lot.”
I scoff. “I do not.”
“Oh, I bet you do,” Royce counters with a laugh.
Poe sighs wistfully. “Who knew that little variety show would lead to such a cozy winter vacation, eh?”
“Love at first sight?” Royce asks.
“At first squawk, really,” Beverly chimes in.
“You two definitely use that bird puppet in bed, right?” Poe asks, pumping his eyebrows up and down impishly.
Dom and I kick him under the table.
“Is there a bathroom around here?” Beverly asks, slapping her thighs in the universal sign for Well, this was fun but awkward.
Someone wandering around in a nice vest overhears her and gestures for Beverly to follow him. I’m left behind with three men staring me down.
“So,” Poe says, tonguing his cheek.
“So,” I echo.
“Well, come on, she’s gorgeous,” Royce says.
Poe crosses one knee over the other. “Please tell me there’s something happening outside of pretend.”
“Of course not,” I answer.
Poe scoffs. “With her looking like that? If it were me, I couldn’t keep my hands away.”
“You better try.”
He smirks. “Getting possessive of her, big guy?”
“Anyway, how’s our girl?” Royce asks, changing the subject. “I’d like to see Ava before you guys leave.”
“I bet she talks about her uncles all the time,” Poe says.
“She only knows limited words, man,” Royce adds. “But…she’s at least said ‘Roy-Roy,’ right?”
Poe shoves him. “Hey, I’m the best uncle. She’s saying ‘Oh,’ if she’s saying anyone’s name.”
“She can pronounce her Ps now,” I say.
Poe’s face falls. “So she can say ‘Poe’? We’re missing so much.”
I smile. “Stop by and see her. I’m sure she misses you guys.”
Royce elbows me. “Hey. Sounds like you’re doing the dad thing really good out there.”
I shrug, but it doesn’t feel as nonchalant as it should. “The mountains aren’t so bad.”
“Griffin Harvey.” A different voice flows from behind me. A drawling tone, filled with self-importance. Beau, in all his sauntering glory, moseys over to our table. On his arm is a stunning blonde. Not as gorgeous as his ex, though—my date.
“Funny you’re here,” he says. “Heard you left LA.”
“Yeah, I went somewhere else for the winter.”
“Take Bev with you?”
“I followed her, actually.”
“To Elk Grove?” he guesses. When I don’t answer, he stiffens. “That old place?” He chokes out a forced laugh.
“I’m meeting my future in-laws.”
His lips pull back in a sneer. He’s far too easy to tick off.
My bandmates’ eyes ping-pong between us. Poe sips his drink, slurping obnoxiously into the silence.
“How are the Larks?” Beau asks. “Rob still miss me?”
“Y’know, you haven’t really come up.”
“Uncle Greg still weird?”
He thinks he’s being slick, drawing me into a fight. Trying to push buttons.
“Still making wonderful cakes,” I answer instead.
“Loved those. He made me birthday cakes almost every year.”
He’s a liar. Greg just started making cakes. Beau is scrambling. He wants to feel like his connection to them is deeper than mine. And, in truth, it likely is. But hey, life moves on.
Beau shifts his gaze to the empty seat beside me. His expression falls.
“Wait, did you bring her here?” he asks.
“Yes.” I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. I can’t help the small satisfied smirk that twitches at the edge of my lips.
He rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m sure she’ll have a blast. She’s always loved tagging along.”
“Huh. Funny. I was told you never took her.”
“And we’re tagging along with her, honestly,” Poe throws in.
Beau’s head jerks back in surprise.
“What?” Beau snaps.
“Yeah,” Poe continues. “She’s already said she wants to go to a bar afterward, right?”
“Yeah,” Royce agrees. “Bev’s a wild child, that one.”
Dom grunts in confirmation.
Beau narrows his eyes. “A bar? Beverly Lark?”
Poe cocks his head to the side in that distinct Poe-like way of pitying someone. “Sad. Seems like you don’t know her at all, huh?”
I don’t even attempt to hide my beaming grin.
“Um, Beau…can we…?” The blonde attached to him tugs at his lapel.
He gives a tight-lipped smile without addressing her. “Yeah. Well, I’m sure we’ll see each other later.”