Grabbing a fluted glass with each hand, Anna leaned up to kiss my cheek. “I know.” My girl didn’t meekly back away from a compliment when it was deserved. Yet another thing I dug about her.
Double-fisting it, we walked into the room packed with people. At least half of them I recognized from some TV show or movie. There were way more celebrities here than I’d anticipated, and I suddenly knew I was right where I belonged—with the stars.
Half a dozen drinks later, I was flying high and feeling no pain. Hollywood soirées were fucking awesome! Bring on the party! Cristal for everyone! Anna and I were dancing on the outside terrace, trying to get a picture of me grinding my ass against an actor from one of those crime shows, when Harold tapped me on the shoulder.
“Mr. Hancock, are you having a good time?” he asked. His tie was a colorful pattern of varying shades of purple squares. It was a party…what the fuck did he need a tie for? My shirt was wide open, so my gold pimp chain was exposed. Ah, yeah.
I engulfed him in a huge hug. “Arnold! How the fuck are you?” I screeched, loud enough for several partygoers to narrow their eyes at me.
“It’s Harold, remember?” he stated, carefully removing himself from my grasp.
Playfully punching him in the stomach, I snorted, “Yeah, I know. Just giving you shit.”
Harold gave me a smile that was clearly forced. “Yes, well, I’m glad to see you’re enjoying yourself. Remember to get as many photos with celebrities as you can. The more you’re associated with A-listers, the more you’ll be noticed.”
Anna raised her phone and I pointed at it. “No worries there. We’ve been all over this place.”
Harold’s smile turned genuine. “Great.” Looking around, he leaned in and motioned toward the house. “If we could go somewhere quieter, I have a proposition that I think you’ll find highly intriguing.”
Harold always thought all of his ideas were amazing, but I was buzzing something fierce, so I slapped him on the back. “Sure. Let’s go, bro.”
Grabbing Anna’s hand, I followed Harold as he turned and weaved his way through the crowd and back to the house. Glancing over my shoulder, I took in the panoramic view of the city below us. At night, and when I was a little drunk, L.A. was kind of beautiful.
When we got into the house, Harold moved us to an office that nobody was in. Well, I thought it was an office. Either that or it was a shrine to golfing. I picked up a club and practiced my putt while Harold shut the door.
“Thank you for coming to this. I’m sure the constant parties get wearing after a while.”
I scoffed at his comment. “Nah, I love this shit. Well, I loved getting fucked up with my girl, at least. The schmoozing part I could do without.” Harold had asked me to introduce myself to everyone, but all I’d really said was, “Hey, I’m in a show, you’re in a show…how about a selfie?”
Harold’s smile was sympathetic, like he understood. “Yes, that part can be a bit…tiresome. But anyway, the news I have for you will make all the mingling worth it.” Clasping his hands together, he looked between Anna and me with an expectant smile. Since I still didn’t know what the big deal was, I paused in my putt to make an irritated Get on with it gesture with my hand. “Well, as you know from past experience, the VMAs are soon approaching. I was able to get you an invitation and appearance on the red carpet. The real red carpet,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the front of the house.
“The Video Music Awards?” I asked, confused. “What does that have to do with our TV show?”
“Nothing,” he admitted. “But you’re an up-and-coming celebrity, and the show attracts all sorts of guests, not just the musical ones.”
My mind was reeling with alcohol, and his words were slow to process. All I knew was that he was telling me I was going to be on a televised awards show. Sounded like fun. Anna was quicker on the draw though, and she spotted something that I should have seen right away. “The D-Bags will be there.”
Her smile was so bright after she said it, I was sure passing planes would see it if we were still outdoors. My expression wasn’t quite so joyful. Letting go of the putter, I crossed my arms over my chest. “The D-Bags will be there,” I repeated, my eyes only on Harold. He had to have known that when he’d signed us on. I did not want to be anywhere those guys might be.
Before Harold could respond to my statement, Anna grabbed my elbow. “Griff, don’t be like that. Maybe this is a good thing, a way to mend the rift between everybody. I know you miss them, and they miss you too…”
That comment made me scowl. “Those fuckers don’t miss me, they don’t give a shit about me. They wrote me off. I’m not going anywhere they’re gonna be.”
“You don’t have to see them or make an appearance with them,” Harold interjected. “But it will add extra hype to the show if you’re at the same ceremony as the D-Bags. Everybody will be talking about it, and the more exposure the better.”