He slowed behind a Prius at a traffic signal and turned to me with a cocky grin. “Yes, I’m bi. And we’re just having a drink. I think you’re hot as fuck, but I promise, I have no hidden agenda. I’m not trying to shake all your secrets out of you.”
“Too bad,” I sighed. “I’m easily shook. As you can tell, I don’t do ‘under the radar’ well. I should probably just give you my social security number and the password for my bank account now. There’s nothing in there so don’t get excited, but still…I’ve compromised my anonymity, big-time. Remind me not to apply for a job with the CIA.”
He chuckled. “You got it.”
“Don’t tell me your name or anything crazy like that, Boyfriend, but you should probably tell me something to even this out.”
“I told you the name of the commercial jingle I wrote. You could always google it and—”
“That’s research. Not happening,” I huffed.
“Too much work?”
“Too annoying. You know my brother’s name and that my mom is miserable and that I know the words to more eighties songs than I should admit. Fess up. It’s only fair.”
“Okay…” He pulled into the driveway of a posh boutique hotel on Sunset and parked behind a Tesla near the modern-looking entry. Then he unfastened his seat belt and glanced up at the valet rounding the front of his car before refocusing on me. “My favorite color is blue, I’m an only child, my parents both died five years ago within a month of each other and…I’m going commando right now. How ’bout that drink?”
I gaped at him with wide-eyed surprise before fumbling with my seat belt. I flashed a phony smile at the valet and hurried to catch up to my companion. He strode purposefully through the stark-white minimalist lobby to the elevator, signaling a bellman standing nearby. The young man jumped to attention.
“Top floor, sir?”
Apparently, the question was rhetorical. He swiped a card over the sensor and wished us a good evening as he held the sliding doors open.
I glanced at our reflection in the mirrored interior. We looked good together in the way contrasting people and things sometimes did. Other than our heights being similar, we were opposites—from our styles of dress to our ages and levels of self-confidence. I was confident for sure, but there were places I felt more at home than others. Boyfriend had the look of someone who belonged everywhere and anywhere he wanted to be.
Me? I wasn’t sure I belonged anywhere in particular. The feeling was alternately freeing or lonely as fuck. It was kind of nice to be with someone who could navigate a dive bar and a swanky hotel bar with the right amount of swagger.
He flashed a wolfish grin in the mirror, then stepped forward and held the door open when we reached our destination. “This way.”
2
Gray
Justin followed me through a dimly lit corridor into the Skybar, one of my favorite spots in the city. I might not be a regular, but I came often enough with Sebastian that some of the staff knew me by sight. I could do without the LA glam crowd, but I loved the ambience. The space had a dark and sexy feel. The modern-style sofas and white leather ottomans anchoring the middle of the room were designed not to detract from the impressive skyline view visible through the massive wall of windows beyond the glass-and-steel bar. Outdoor heaters dotted the lounge area on the patio around the blue-lit pool. A few nights a week, famous deejays played hits for the elite crowd who danced under fairy lights well into the early morning hours—thankfully, not on Wednesdays. Tonight, a jazz quartet played a haunting melody from a raised dais in the corner.
Beautiful people posed like models in a fashion spread. Handsome men with artfully mussed hair and one too many buttons undone on their designer shirts chatted with gorgeous women who shared a similar look…model-thin with tight, short skirts and perfect curls in their well-coiffed, long hair. The uniformity was a tad off-putting, if you asked me, but it seemed to be the current style. And fuck knew, I was no expert when it came to fashion. I relied on my godson to keep me from pairing stripes and plaids. According to Charlie, that was a no-no. But I wasn’t interested in impressing anyone. I was here to—
I had no idea what the fuck I was doing. None.
I gave Justin a quick once-over and gestured lamely toward the bar.
“What do you want to drink?” I asked.
“Uh…gin and tonic, please. Do you want me to grab a seat somewhere? It’s kinda crowded.”
“Sure. Or we can go outside.”
“Dude, it’s fuckin’ freezing,” he huffed.
I chuckled. “Okay, then find a seat for us.”
Justin gave me a thumbs-up before wandering toward the band while I placed our order. I cautioned myself to not to stare at his ass in those tight jeans or admire his gorgeous ink or stunning profile. Damn, he was sexy. And I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Men and women shot clandestine glances at the good-looking Latino standing to the side with his arms crossed, bopping his head to the beat. If I read his body language correctly, I’d guess he was uncomfortable but interested. Like he wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he didn’t mind. I felt the same way.