Chapter 2 #2
“Take your pick, hotshot.”
“We got ’em lined up for you.”
“Thanks, fellas. You’re the wind beneath my wings.”
“Our work here is done.” Nico polishes off his ginger ale. “We’re gonna take off.”
I turn to him, waggling my eyebrows. “Okay, but tell me…how’s Grammie doing? She still single?”
He glowers at me. “She would eat you alive, and she is way out of your league.” I get a smack up the side of the head. “Putz.”
“Hey. We’ve always had chemistry—had to ask.” Truth is, Nico’s grandmother scares the shit out of me. She caught me making out with a production assistant on the Wizard set once and tore me a new one. After that, she scowled every time she saw me and referred to me as The Tongue.
Shane pulls his phone out of his pocket and answers by saying, “Leaving now, babe.” He looks at me and mouths, I’m not whipped at all.
Back into the phone, he says, “Summer, is that you? Does Willa know you have her phone? … No, Zac Efron is not here, I told you … Yes, Nico is here, but you can’t talk to him—why are you awake?
Go to bed.” He ends the call and slides out of the booth.
I do too, to let Nico out, although I’m not emotionally ready to stop being the meat in this Shanico sandwich already.
“Shit, I almost forgot…” Shane slaps his forehead and turns back to me.
“Willa wanted me to tell you that she has a client who wants to meet you, if you’re ‘single and ready to mingle.’ Her words, not mine.
This friend is definitely hot but probably crazy.
My words, not Willa’s. If you want, we can have you both over for ‘a grown-up dinner sometime.’ Say no say no say no. ”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Fuckin’ A! I hate you.” He pats me on the back.
“I’m not really interested. But please thank Willa so much for the offer. Hey, Nico—you got any even younger sisters that I don’t know about?”
“I also hate you.” He gives me a warm hug. “Hey, we’re gonna do a Disneyland trip one of these days. I’ll let you know.”
“Awesome—Ryder’s been begging me to take him again. Great to see you guys. Have a blessed evening, filled with love and light!”
They blow me kisses and then say goodbye to everyone else before walking out, leaving a trail of disappointed gawkers who are pretending not to notice them in their wake.
Danny, a former script supervisor from That’s So Wizard!
starts telling me about the Ron Howard thriller he’s working on, and I scan the mezzanine for a reason why I should stay long enough to even finish one beer.
It is not promising. Not that it’s even possible to have a real conversation with anyone in here.
Not that that’s the point of coming to a place like this.
But I doubt any of the women here want to talk about anything other than their favorite tanning salon or spin class.
I hate being a cynic. Maybe I should just go talk to any random girl just to prove that I still can. That I’m not dead inside.
But…well, well. What have we here?
There’s a very attractive woman walking up the stairs to this level.
A perfect bouquet of fresh daisies in a room full of spray-painted fake flowers.
And she’s wearing glasses. In a nightclub.
Not giant Gucci sunglasses with Swarovski crystals because I’m fly like Rihanna, but gold-frame prescription glasses because I’d be blind without them—like a sexy librarian.
I nod at whatever this guy’s saying about Ron Howard and watch her sigh as she leans against the railing of the divider that runs between the staircases on both sides of the mezzanine.
She may be using that railing to hold herself steady as she scans the crowd on the dance floor beneath her.
I can’t tell if she’s searching for someone in particular or not, but her expression would suggest that she’s wondering what the fuck those people are trying to accomplish down there. But I could be projecting.
She adjusts her glasses and combs her fingers through long, blonde hair, frowning.
She pulls a phone out, and instead of taking a selfie, she looks at it and curses before putting it back in her purse.
Her white sundress hangs loose, but I see those hidden curves on her willowy frame.
I see that hint of exposed bare legs between her boots and the hem of the dress, and they are so intriguing.
Why is she alone in a place like this?
What is she even doing in a place like this?
How many seconds would it take me to get her naked if we were back at my place?
She seems uncomfortable and judge-y in a way that makes me respect and relate to her.
She’s dressed like she just got back from Coachella, but she seems mad that she didn’t bring a book to read or something.
I need to know what’s going on in that brain of hers, as much as I want to see what’s going on under the dress.
While adjusting the turquoise bra strap that slid out from under her sleeveless top, she looks around and catches sight of me staring at her.
She does a double take. I suppose I must be smirking.
I suppose it’s obvious that I’ve been contemplating her.
I hold her gaze from fifteen feet away. She’s a deer caught in headlights for a few seconds, but when she snaps out of it, she lets go of her bra strap, smooths down the front of her dress, and grins as she looks away, turning her back to me. She stays put, though.
I didn’t see any look of recognition in her eyes, but there was interest.
I put my beer down on the table and turn my attention back to Danny, ask him about something that I hope he didn’t just tell me while I was eye fucking the fish-out-of-water glasses girl.
I should just go home.
Nothing good can come of this.
I glance over at the hot, judge-y blonde.
She could be trouble.
But she’s pretty.
And different.
And not too young.
And she doesn’t look crazy.
And that half a beer is making my heart feel half-full.
And yeah, I’m getting a little stiff from picturing her in just those glasses and that turquoise bra and tan boots.
Fuck it.
I’m going in.