Chapter 8
8
After interacting with his fans, Angel always felt the same fulfilling yet bone-weary exhaustion. He’d refused to leave the Refine store until every fan got their picture. His face hurt from smiling. He probably should be back at his hotel room, sleeping before their early-morning flight to Seattle. He wanted to FaceTime Leah and Maxine. But at the moment, he was standing in VIP at Oasis because his producer, Malik, happened to be in LA tonight too, and he’d hit Angel up, inviting him out. Angel was drained, but he couldn’t say no to Malik. “Summertime Fine” was still sitting high on the charts, thanks in large part to Malik’s producing.
Malik and his friends were pouring up and taking shots of D’Ussé. Angel spotted Ray in the corner of their section, talking with Iris and Bree, who were sitting on the couch. Ray leaned down as he spoke, and whatever he’d said made Bree burst into laughter. Iris smiled and sat up straighter, casting a glance at the crowded dance floor. People had their cameras angled toward their section—toward Angel, specifically. He was used to the attention by now, but he could see how it might make Iris uncomfortable.
He’d been uncomfortable when he’d first moved to LA. He’d felt like an outsider who didn’t have the right lingo or the right look. Shortly after he’d been signed to Capitol, a label executive had taken him out to the club, along with some of his new label mates. Angel had never seen so much expensive liquor in one place. That night, he’d gotten way too drunk, and the label exec had sent him home in a cab. His life had changed a few months after that night.
He’d gone from being a nobody to a Somebody. Suddenly, he was recognized while waiting at the red light in traffic. Fans would scream from the street that they loved him, that they would do anything for him. The new burst of attention had taken Angel off guard. It soon became clear that he couldn’t do normal things anymore, like grocery shop or go to a public gym. At least not in LA. New York City was a little easier. Thinking of New York made him miss his bed and his place.
His gaze returned to Iris. Earlier, he’d been mesmerized by her featherlight touches across his skin. She’d smelled like flowers again. Intoxicating. But he reminded himself that she wasn’t available, and he’d made a promise to her that he’d be a gentleman. He’d invited her and Bree out tonight as a kind gesture, a thank-you for accompanying him this week and taking care of everything.
“You good?” Ray asked, suddenly appearing in front of him. He did that a lot. He was like a big, silent ninja.
Angel nodded. “Yeah, I’m cool, bro. Why?”
“You were staring.”
“What?”
Ray smirked. “At Iris.”
Angel took a sip of his drink and said nothing as his cheeks warmed.
“The Save Face Beauty executive,” Ray continued.
Angel laughed and shook his head. “I’m aware of what her job is.”
“Okay. Just thought I’d remind you.”
As if Angel needed reminding of the current boundaries in place. “I know.”
“Anyway, what do you think of Bree?”
“You mean the Save Face Beauty executive assistant?” Angel asked, brows raised.
“Not the same thing,” Ray said. “It’s different for us.”
“How so?”
“We’re the help. We’re in the trenches together so we want to spend time with someone else who understands our struggle.” At Angel’s amused expression, Ray added, “Well, not my struggle. You know I love my status as your best friend on payroll.”
Angel snorted. “Yeah, sure .”
“I’m gonna ask Bree to dance,” Ray said. “You don’t mind, do you? Just one song and I’ll come right back.”
“You’re good, bro,” Angel said. The club already had enough security on deck. “Go have fun.”
Ray saluted Angel and grabbed one of the many bottles on their table, pouring a shot and pounding it back. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” Angel called after him as he made his way back over to Bree and Iris. He said something to Bree and pointed toward the dance floor. Bree hopped up immediately, leaving Iris to sit by herself.
There was no harm in going to sit with her, was there? In fact, wouldn’t it be rude if he saw that she was alone and didn’t at least offer to keep her company?
“Hey,” he said as he approached Iris.
She looked up at him with a smile. He pointed to the open seat beside her.
“Yes, please, go ahead.” She scooted over and made room for him.
“Are you having a good time?” he asked.
Her eyes shifted, and she noticeably hesitated before answering, “Yes.”
“You don’t sound very confident about that,” he said, laughing.
“Okay, I’m not having a good time.” She laughed too and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Clubs aren’t my preferred setting.”
“No need to apologize,” he said. “But what is?”
“I’m sorry?” she asked, slightly raising her voice. She scooched closer, and he smelled her floral perfume again. She was wearing the same black dress from earlier. It was long sleeved with a scoop neck, and the hem fell to her knees. Plain and professional. He’d seen women wear way more tantalizing outfits, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Iris and her Corporate America dress. He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat.
“I can barely hear you.”
He moved closer as well, making sure to leave a few appropriate inches between them. “I said, What’s your preferred setting?”
“My back patio. Especially at night during this time of year. I invite my sisters over for dinner outside. Sometimes it’s just me and my daughter. She likes to wait for the fireflies.”
He remembered the little girl who’d been in Violet’s wedding.
“How old is your daughter?” he asked.
“Six.” Iris smiled softly. “She just finished kindergarten.”
“Wow. On to the big leagues.”
Iris nodded. “Yeah, it feels like just yesterday I was holding a newborn, wondering why the hospital was letting us take her home to care for her on our own. Life comes at you fast.”
He caught her uses of us and our . He wondered what the situation was with Calla’s dad.
“My little sister is a junior at NYU,” he said. “One day she was sucking her thumb and asking me to read to her, and the next she was lecturing me about composting and how I’m an uncool millennial. She likes to boss me around.”
“See, my situation is the opposite,” Iris said, smirking. “My little sisters always say that I boss them around.”
Angel shook his head. “Why are little sisters always so opinionated?”
“I have no idea.” Iris’s smirk widened to a grin.
Someone shouted Angel’s name and he waved at two fans who had their phones facing him. When he turned back to Iris, her smile had given way to an uneasy expression. His intention had been for her and Bree to have fun tonight, but he was realizing that his plan might have backfired where Iris was concerned.
“You didn’t have to come out tonight if you didn’t want to,” he said gently. “They set us up in a nice hotel. You could be there, relaxing.”
Iris bit her lip, and damned if he didn’t catch the motion. He blinked and forced his gaze back up to her eyes.
“I didn’t want to be rude,” she said. “Or to offend you.”
“I wouldn’t have been offended. I’d rather you be happy.”
Iris opened her mouth to reply, but she was interrupted by the DJ, who took that moment to shout out Angel before he switched the song to “Summertime Fine.” The crowd went wild, and Malik and his friends rushed over to Angel and pulled him to his feet. Angel waved at the crowd before sitting down again. He could go to the club and be on the scene anytime, but right now, he was in the middle of a conversation with Iris and he didn’t want it to end prematurely.
“I really do like this song,” she said. She glanced down at her hands in her lap, then looked up at him through her lashes. “Thank you again.”
“Thank you . I have to follow the inspiration when it strikes.”
He watched as a deep flush crept up her neck.
“You’re welcome. I, um, that’s—it’s really flattering.” She cleared her throat, and he felt his mouth curve into a smile. Watching well-spoken Iris become tongue-tied was endearing.
“Do you write all of your songs?” she asked.
“Most of them.”
“Was this song hard to write?”
“Nah, I came up with the lyrics while playing the piano first.”
She leaned back slightly in surprise. “Wait, I had no idea you played. For how long?”
“Since I was about eleven. I can play a little guitar too.” He shrugged. “Nothing crazy, though.”
“?‘Nothing crazy,’ he says.” She shook her head with a light laugh. “Wow.”
He tried not to show that her reaction was a direct boost to his ego.
“So…‘Summertime Fine’ was written as a slow song first?” she asked.
He nodded. “It was.”
“Sorry,” she said, smiling sheepishly again. “Whenever I become interested in a topic, I ask a ton of questions. Lily and Violet call me the inspector.”
His lips formed into a grin. “Inspector Iris.”
She grinned too. “But…I’d like to hear that version of the song, actually. The piano version.”
“Really? I—”
He was about to say that he’d let her listen to it whenever she wanted, but he was interrupted as one of Malik’s drunk friends tripped and fell onto the floor right in front of them. His drink splashed and hit Iris’s legs. She jumped up and Angel stood immediately, hastening to find something to help wipe her off. Malik pulled his friend to his feet and apologized to Iris on his behalf.
“I think it’s best if I call it a night,” Iris said, wincing as she looked at her soaked legs.
Angel grabbed a fistful of napkins from the table and crouched down to wipe her legs.
“I’m really sorry,” he said.
“You don’t have to do that.” She reached out and touched his hands. “It wasn’t your fault.”
But he kept wiping until her legs were dry. When he stood again, he averted his gaze, unable to look at her, afraid of what he’d see in her expression. He’d invited her out to a place where she didn’t really want to be and now look at what happened.
“I’ll get you a car back to the hotel, okay?”
“Oh,” she said. “Um, yes. That would be great. Thank you.”
He spotted Ray on the dance floor and waved him back over. They arranged for a car to take Iris to the hotel.
“Ray is gonna walk you toward the exit and take you to the car waiting outside,” Angel told her.
“Okay. Thank you.” She looked at him, trying to catch his eye. “Is everything—are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He forced his easy smile and gestured for her to follow Ray, who stood behind him.
“Iris, do you want me to come with you?” Bree asked, gathering her purse.
“No, it’s okay,” Iris said. “Stay, have fun.”
She looked at Angel again, gaze searching. “Have a good night.”
He forced another easy smile. “You too. Sorry again.”
She glanced back at him once before Ray unhooked the rope from their section. She still looked slightly confused at the sudden change in his demeanor. Angel’s chest deflated as he watched her go.
He was embarrassed. He’d invited Iris to the club, and someone had spilled a drink on her. What was he even doing at the club right now? He heard his mom’s voice in the back of his head, reminding him that he was living his life wrong. That he couldn’t deserve a woman like Iris.
He rubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t want to think about his mom or her judgments.
He grabbed the bottle of D’Ussé and took a huge swig, already knowing he’d regret it in the morning.