A wide smile broke over my face as I returned my attention to the sea of taillights in front of me. Noble was practically my middle name.
We arrived at the gallery about an hour late, which was right on time in my book. Matt was flustered when he spotted us outside, talking to the fans. Thanks to us and our awesome diehards, Jenny’s gallery was already on the map. It had probably been tagged about three million times tonight already. We were so cool.
“There you guys are. What took you so long?” Matt was dressed to the nines in a full-on tuxedo, and his short blond hair was gelled into rigid, unyielding little spikes. How appropriate. Clearly nervous, he seemed more tightly wound than usual; it looked like he was having muscle spasms he was moving around so much.
Since humor was the best cure for nerves that I knew of, and since fondling myself in front of him was too good of an opportunity to pass up, I cupped myself and said, “What do you think we were doing?”
The fans around me tittered, but Matt’s scowl deepened. “We’re on in thirty minutes. Try to not be late for that, okay?”
I saluted the fucker, but he was already turning to leave. The fans who had been trying to get his attention asked me, “What’s up with him?” Disappointment was clear in their voices. Douche hadn’t even said hello.
Shrugging, I told them, “Same thing that’s always up with him.” I mimed putting my finger where the sun didn’t shine, and a couple of the girls laughed. “That and he’s proposing to his girl tonight. His nerves are basically fucked.”
The crowd gasped and squealed. Anna elbowed me, then held her hands out. “You weren’t supposed to say anything.”
I pointed to the sign above the door loudly proclaiming BAGETTES! “I’m not supposed to say anything to Rachel. These guys don’t count.” I turned back to the crowd. “You guys won’t tell Matt’s girlfriend, right?”
More giggling and shrieking. I took that as a yes, and gave Anna a look of triumph. See, they don’t count. Amused, Anna patted my shoulder. “I’m going to go inside and find a seat. Come find me when you’re done.”
Watching her waddle away from me, I murmured, “You bet your sweet little ass I will.”
Jenny’s gallery was exactly what I was expecting it to be—a boring building with a bunch of bland, artistic, nonsensical crap hung on the walls and a few odd-shaped statues blocking the flow of traffic in the hallways. No nude art anywhere. I was instantly disappointed, and I kind of felt cheated as I looked over Jenny’s creations.
People were walking around looking all hoity-toity with fluted glasses of champagne, so I found a waiter and grabbed me a couple. It was my obligation to drink for Anna, since she wasn’t able to enjoy it. The burden of being a husband.
On the far side of the main room, I spotted my wife hanging out with Kiera, Jenny, and Rachel. I was just about to rush up and goose her sexy ass when Rachel turned and gave me a wicked glare. Jesus. Was she still mad at me for saying that Matt didn’t want to be tied down to just one girl? She needed to move on. Obviously, since he was still proposing to her, I’d been joking. Hopefully after this, the ice in her veins would melt.
Not wanting to get an earful about how much of an ass I was, I avoided the girls and looked around for where we were supposed to play. There were a surprising number of people here. Most I didn’t know, but a few familiar faces stood out. A couple of Pete’s waitresses were here, including Kate, the uppity one who never let me grab her ass. She was standing with Justin, the lead singer of Avoiding Redemption, one of the bands we were leaving on tour with tomorrow. Justin and Kate had been bumping uglies for a while now, but I didn’t think they were heading to the altar anytime soon. At least, they shouldn’t. They didn’t even live in the same city. How the heck was that supposed to work out? Exactly. It wouldn’t.
When Justin spotted me, I raised my glass in a toast to him. He nodded his head up in greeting, then turned his attention back to Kate. The other members of Justin’s band were drifting around the room. There were around six thousand of them, I swear. Okay, maybe not, but however many there really were, it was too many. Bands should be small and simple.