My soon-to-be inside-trader is named Brick, and it’s kind of perfect considering how thick he is.
“You dance so good,” he says as he flails to the music like he has some sort of palsy. “You’re like ... hot. So fucking hot. Are you a real redhead? Does the carpet match the drapes?” He waggles his eyebrows at me, and I bite back a groan.
Ugh, shut up, dude. There’s fun-dumb, and then there’s just plain dumb-dumb. He’s quickly veering into the latter.
“It’s hard to hear you over the music,” I say, pointing at my ear. “Probably best not to talk.”
He nods enthusiastically and moves closer, dancing in that weird way so many men think is sexy where they lead with their crotch. It must be some throwback to ancient mating rituals or something, but I doubt females ever found it appealing. It’s right up there with unsolicited dick picks as the top way to turn women off. Having known the delightful Brick for less than half an hour, I would bet money on him having a whole folder of dick pics on his phone, all photoshopped larger than life and ready for some poor, unsuspecting girl’s eyeballs. I pray it won’t be mine.
We dance for a bit longer, and just when I’d given up hope that Asha’s going to join me tonight, she shows up on the edge of the dance floor looking like the cat that caught the canary. When I’d called her earlier, she was just about to go into a late meeting and didn’t think she could make it. I’m so glad she was wrong.
She mimes the drinkies gesture and points to the bar, and I nod. I don’t really feel like talking about the whole thing with Max, but just being with her always makes me feel better.
I lean into Brick and put a hand on his chest. “Let’s take a break. I need to talk to my sister.”
“Cool,” he says. “Gotta spend some time hanging with my homies, anyway.” Ugh. He calls his bro-dudes homies? He’s getting less attractive by the second.
Before I can escape, he leans in so close I can smell the delicate aroma of Budweiser on his breath. “I’ll be down the end of the bar when you need me, hot stuff.”
I smile, but as soon as he turns away, I drop the pretense and head over to the bar.
God, why am I being so intolerant tonight? Brick isn’t any more heinous than most of the men I’ve hooked up with, and yet my eye-rolling has gotten so severe, I can feel a headache coming on. I rub my temples as I make my way over to where Asha is waving to Joe and ordering our usual drinks.
“What’s up?” I say, giving her a quick hug. “The meeting wrapped up quickly.”
“Actually, I’m just on dinner break, but I needed to come here first and tell you my amazing news in person.”
I gasp in mock surprise. “O.M.G.! You and bass boy from the Stoners are getting married, and you want me to be chief bridesmaid for your wedding? Oh, Ash! Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!”
She rolls her eyes. “As if. He was hot, but it turns out he’s as dumb as a post. After the concert, I started talking to him about his songwriting process, because, you know, his lyrics are half the reason my panties melted in the first place. Well, it turns out he pays some other guy to write the lyrics, and then he takes credit for it.”
“What?” Joe delivers our drinks, and I take a sip. “Why would he admit that?”
“Because,” she says, stirring her cocktail, “he was drunk, and dumb, and more than a little high. Apparently, I should have been rubbing myself all over some guy named Caleb Sykes.”
I cough on my drink, and Ash pats me on the back. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I take a breath. “Really? Caleb, huh? Wow.” I grab some napkins and dab at the mess on my chin.
“Wasn’t he playing at the Rock Shop last night? I heard his name announced, but I was too busy lusting after an imposter to catch his set.”
Seems like lusting after imposters is something we have in common at the moment.
“For all I know,” Ash says, “he looks like one of the less attractive cousins out of Deliverance. I mean, you just know that anyone named Caleb is a total hillbilly, right?”
I cough again and nod. “Oh, yeah. Definitely. He’s probably ... you know ... totally gross.” My whole body lights up just thinking about how not-gross Max was as Caleb.
Dammit! For a while there, I was doing so well. I know I should level with her about Caleb’s real identity, but I honestly just want to put last night behind me, and if I tell Ash about how Max made me feel and that it was possibly chemically induced, we’re not getting off the topic any time this year.
“So,” Ash says, swiveling around to face me. “How about you? Hook up with anyone I know?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Just some random musician. It was pretty forgettable.” At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
“Anyway,” Ash says, “my amazing news has nothing to do with boys and everything to do with my job. Guess which junior editor has been chosen to go with the head of publishing and the foreign rights director to the European Book Fair next week in Paris?”
My mouth drops open in shock. “No way!”
“Yes, way! I leave on Friday. We have a whole bunch of meetings lined up in London the week before the fair, so I’ll be gone for just over two weeks!”
“Oh, my God, Ash! That’s amazing!”
“I know, right?!”
I pull her into a hug, and after she almost squeezes me to death, I hold up my glass in a toast.
“To my baby sister. May she have a wonderful trip and find a hot Frenchman to romance the bejesus out of her.”
“Oh, hell, yes!”
We clink glasses, and after Ash sips her drink, she puts her hand on my leg. “Will you be okay dealing with Nannabeth by yourself for a while?”
“Don’t worry about it. As long as Nan stays out of my love life, we’ll be fine.”
Ash laughs. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.”
For a few minutes, we chat about everything she wants to do in Paris, and I’ve almost put everything with Max out of my mind when she looks off into space and says, “So, what’s going on with the whole Mister Romance thing? When are you going on those dates with Max?”
Again, I’m tempted to tell her about the whole rock star debacle, but I just don’t have the energy right now. I’ve finally gotten my blood pressure down to healthy levels. No need to spike it again.
“I don’t know, Ash. Derek’s breathing down my neck about the whole thing, but I’m not sure I even want to go through with it, anymore.”
“Well, I think Max wants you to go through with it.”
“Why do you say that?”
She points over my shoulder. “Because he’s heading straight toward you.”
I swivel around, and sure enough I spot Max, looking very much like Caleb in jeans and a snug Clash t-shirt, striding over to me. I immediately tense up, and every step he takes winds me a little tighter. By the time he’s standing in front of me, I’m lightheaded and full of conflicting emotions.