“I don’t know. How about—” A wicked idea pops into my head.
“Uh-uh.” Ty rocks back on his heels. “I’m not liking the look of that smile on your face. It says we’re about to get into trouble.”
“How about fondue?” I reply innocently.
I need to figure out what to wear. A hat and sunglasses aren’t going to be enough.
“Sure. There’s a place over on La Cienega Boulevard,” he says.
Ty’s a foodie. Man knows all of the good places, but I don’t want to go to Restaurant Row.
“I was thinking about Fondue Heaven over on—” I open the app, and sure enough, Vaughn has her Instagram geo-location on. “El Segundo. It’s on Main Street.”
Ty looks offended and faintly disgusted as he trails after me into my room. “A chain, brother? In El Segundo? That’s an hour away.”
I ignore him as I rifle through my walk-in closet. I should wear my lowest slung pants. The ones that hover around my ass crack. I wonder if I got rid of those? I dig around in the back of the closet.
“Those folks are gonna be gone before you get there,” Ty says from behind me. He’s not slow.
“Not if we take a chopper. That’s fifteen minutes. The apps are probably being served at that time.” I find the pair of ratty jeans that I hate in a pile under an old pair of sneaks. I lift the denim to my nose. They smell clean. Musty but clean.
Ty raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Really?”
“My jeans or the chopper?” I ask, stripping out of my sweats and pulling on the pants. I haven’t worn them for a couple years so it’s a tight fit. I’ve bulked up since my Slim Jim, sixteen-year-old days.
“Both.”
I slip a dark hoodie over my T-shirt and rub my hands together. “Ready?”
*
“You have me on record that I think this is a bad idea, right?” Ty asks as he turns into the parking lot.
“I heard you the first three times.” I adjust my hat using the visor mirror in the car we’re renting. It’s not a full disguise, but I’m banking on the fact that no one’s going to expect to see Oakley Ford in El Segundo at a fondue chain restaurant.
“Jim’s a scary man and I’ve got family,” Ty reminds me.
“What family? You have kids I don’t know about?”
“Sisters.”
Right. I’ve met Ty’s sisters. If anyone should be afraid, it’s Jim, because those chicks put the F in fierce. Highly protective of their “baby” brother and with no filter, they tell it like it is. “Honey—” that’s what they call me. I’m not sure they even know my name anymore “—Honey, you gotta pull those pants up before you start a riot.”
At fifteen and dumber than a box of rocks, I told Shanora, Ty’s oldest sister, this was the style. “Honey, that’s no style. I didn’t see wannabe hoodrat on the shelves last time I was in Macy’s,” she replied. “What you have is a lack of imagination.”
Because of her advice, I’d ditched the saggy jeans, backward cap and wife-beater, and tried to find a style that hit somewhere between rock god and Abercrombie douche. Not sure I’ve found it yet.
“Jim knows that this is my idea. He’s not going to blame you.” I flip up the visor. “He’s never blamed you in the past.”
Ty only grunts as he pulls into a parking space. While the lot itself is busy, there aren’t a ton of people around, and the few restaurant goers outside are taking zero notice of me. A couple walks right by me and doesn’t stop. I give Ty a surreptitious thumbs-up behind their backs.
He shakes his head.
Excitement courses through me. I feel like I’m breaking the law, getting away with something I definitely shouldn’t by having dinner at this subpar chain restaurant. I can see my next interview. “What’s the most exciting thing you’ve done since the Ford tour?”
“Well, I went to eat fondue and no one noticed me. That was the highlight of year nineteen of my life.”
“You let me do the talking with people,” Ty says as he opens the door. “Your voice is too recognizable. Let’s at least get some food in our system before we have to make a run for it.”
“Sounds like a plan.” My voice does have a distinctive rasp. A writer from Billboard once asked if I smoked a lot of cigarettes as a kid. She was only half-joking. But nope, just how I was born.
Inside the restaurant there’s a crowd of folks waiting to be seated. Ty muscles his way to the front while I hang back and scan the interior. Near the kitchen, a table of four catches my eye.
“The wait’s going to be about twenty minutes,” the harried hostess informs Ty.
“No problem,” I say. “We’re meeting someone.” I point to Vaughn’s table.
The hostess looks surprised. “They didn’t tell me.”
“No worries.” Then I start walking before the lady can ruin my surprise.
“So much for letting me do the talking,” Ty mutters in my ear.
I ignore him and drop down next to Vaughn, pushing her over closer to her sister. “What’re we having?”
She turns, her mouth open to deliver some kind of rebuke, then proceeds to stare at me for a good long moment.
I stare back, finding myself drawn to her wide mouth. She’s not wearing lipstick, or even a hint of any other makeup. Her dark hair is pulled up in a messy ponytail, with her bangs falling into her eyes and framing the sides of her face.
My new girlfriend is kind of a scrub, but she’s a hot scrub. Her thin see-through sweater and skinny jeans reveal enough curves to make my pants feel even more uncomfortable.
“I’d tell you to take a picture because it lasts longer,” I remark, “but you’ve already drawn me.”
I snatch her long two-pronged stick right out of her hand, stab a piece of bread and drop it into the cheese.
She finally recovers enough to ask, “What are you doing here?”
“Eating, hopefully. Should we order more food?”
Across from me, Ty settles in next to Vaughn’s brothers, who watch him with wide eyes and half-open mouths. He’s an impressive figure—just a couple inches below my six-two. But he has an air of menace around him that I assume he acquired in the military, where he served ten years before he left to join the bodyguard service. Ty uses it to scare away overzealous groupies and lure the ladies into his bed.
One glance toward Vaughn’s older sister reveals that she’s not immune. She’s pink in the cheeks and keeps sneaking peeks at him while she thinks he doesn’t notice. He notices. But he’s not going to tap anyone on Jim’s payroll because of the whole not-shitting-where-you-eat thing.
“Is this our first date?” Vaughn whispers uncertainly. “I didn’t get any instructions from Claudia.”