I’m nervous about Beau Maxwell’s reaction to me and Dean showing up together, but it turns out to be unnecessary. Beau doesn’t even blink when Dean introduces me as “G’s GF’s BFF”. Maybe all the letters Dean threw out confused him? Either way, he just seems thrilled that we came out to the club at all.
Beau’s sister Joanna is equally overjoyed, throwing her arms around Dean. “Di Laurentis! Oh thank God you’re here. You don’t understand how close I’ve come to killing my idiot brother these past couple days.”
“Naah, you don’t want to kill me,” Beau says with a broad grin. “You love your little brother and you know it.”
Joanna gives him the finger, but she’s grinning too. She’s as attractive as Beau, tall and statuesque with sparkling blue eyes and dark hair cut in a short bob. Dean told me she currently has a small role in a Broadway show, which is the first thing I ask her about as we head inside after going through the line. By which I mean skipping it altogether, because one word in the bouncer’s ear from Dean and the velvet rope magically lifts for us.
Inside, the strobe lights are going strong and the music is deafening. Joanna and I need to scream our lungs out in order to continue our conversation. Dean and Beau, who were walking ahead of us, are immediately swallowed up by the frenzied mob.
“We lost the boys,” I shout in Joanna’s ear.
She shakes her head and points at the spiral staircase to our left. Sure enough, the guys are ascending the metal steps. Dean glances over his shoulder, finds us in the crowd, and gestures for us to follow them.
I discover that the staircase leads to the VIP area. We reach the top in time to hear Dean address the beefy bouncer manning the rope. “Dean Heyward,” he shouts. “Tony knows me.”
The bouncer touches the tiny Bluetooth tucked in his ear. His lips move, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. A second later, our little group saunters past yet another velvet rope.
Fortunately, the music isn’t as loud up here, so I don’t need to shriek like a banshee anymore. “Dean Heyward?” I tease. “Are we not using Di Laurentis anymore?”
He slings his arm around me, and the spicy scent of his aftershave infuses my senses, making me shiver. “Di Laurentis works better at country clubs or charity benefits. The Heyward name opens more doors in Manhattan.”
It sure does. Not only do we have access to the VIP lounge, but we’re given a spacious table by the wrought-iron railing that overlooks the dance floor. I take out my phone to check if Dillon texted—yep. She and her boyfriend will be here soon. I tell her to come upstairs when they arrive, then refocus on the conversation around me.
Joanna is teasing her brother about someone named Sabrina, but he’s insisting the relationship is over, which seems to upset his sister.
“You’re such an idiot. Seriously, Beau-Beau, you needed someone like her to keep you in line.”
Since Dean still has his arm around me, it’s impossible not to feel it when he stiffens. I study the hard set of his profile, and lightly squeeze his thigh. “You okay?”
“Ah, don’t mind him, sweetheart,” Beau says with a chuckle. “He always gets like this when the subject of Sabrina comes up. I think he’s still sulking that she snubbed him after they boned down.”
I’m not surprised to hear that Dean slept with this girl, whoever she is. What I am surprised about is my complete lack of jealousy.
The same thing happened during our drive to the city. Listening to Dean talk about “silent comers” and past hook-ups hadn’t upset me, not the way it had the night I saw Penelope pawing him at Malone’s. But I hadn’t felt threatened this time around. Maybe because they were clearly memories for him and not present day specters that could interfere with whatever we have going on? I’m not entirely sure what the reason is, but I like this odd, unexpected trust I have in him.
In the seat beside me, Dean is rolling his eyes in response to Beau’s taunt. “Trust me, I’m happy to be snubbed.”
I wait for him to elaborate. When he doesn’t, it heightens my curiosity, so I poke him in the side and say, “Spill, sweetie. I want to hear about this blood feud you’ve got going on.” As Hannah can attest, I’m too nosy for my own good.
“So do I,” Beau says honestly.
Dean waves it off. “It was just some stupid bullshit in sophomore year. No big deal.”
“Obviously it is if it still bothers you two years later,” I point out.
Reluctance creases his forehead. “Long story short? I was struggling in a course, but every time I thought I failed a test or wrote a shitty paper, I’d get an A on it. Me being a total moron, I didn’t connect it to the fact that I was banging my TA.”
Beau snickers. “Love it.”