Starting From the Top (Starting from 5)

“Oh, my gosh, I’m a huge Zero fan. Huge! Will you sign my phone case?”

“Uh…sure.” I scribbled my name and handed over her pen.

“My arm too?”

“You want me to sign your arm?” I asked incredulously.

“And can I trouble you for a selfie?”

“Um, sure. But real quick. I’m meeting someone and—”

“I know!” She squealed loud enough to turn heads two tables away.

“You know?” I repeated, smiling for her photo before stepping aside.

“I love Clay Kanzler. I’m a huge fan of his work. I’m so excited for you two. Have a great night.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I nodded my thanks and hurried to catch up to the hostess who led me to a tufted leather booth in the far corner, partially hidden from the main dining area by a half wall. A man popped up as we approached the table.

“Johnny!”

“You must be Clay.”

I gave him an appraising once-over as I shook his hand. Clay Kanzler was hot. He was an inch or two shorter than me with dark wavy hair and sharp, angular features. And though he wasn’t overly muscular, his floral button-down shirt fit snugly at his broad shoulders, indicating he spent some time in the gym. But his real attraction was his smile. His devilish grin hinted at a mind full of mischief. I loved mischief, so yeah…I immediately let my guard down and slid into the booth across from him.

Clay gestured to a nearby waiter, then turned his brilliant smile on me again. “Yes. Don’t tell me you don’t remember me. You’ll hurt my feelings.”

Doubtful.

I chuckled softly, thanking the server for the water he set in front of me before giving him my drink order. I waited for Clay to do the same and nodded politely when the waiter promised to return with menus.

“Malibu, right? It’s been a while,” I commented, leaning forward so I didn’t have to yell over the din of conversation and a James Brown classic.

“Yes.” He cocked his head and rested his elbows on the table. “You really don’t remember?”

“Sure. It was a holiday beach party. I don’t know whose house it was, but it was right on the sand. And there were a lot of pretty people shivering under heat lamps outside or popping hors d’oeuvres and ecstasy in the kitchen. We talked by the barbecue. You referred Wyatt to me. Thanks for that. My place is almost done, and he’s been great to work with.”

“Cool. Glad to hear it. Do you remember anything else?”

“Uh…well, I do remember waking up with a big-ass hangover. I felt like I’d been run over by a Mack truck.”

“You were seriously fucked up,” he reported gleefully. “Must have dipped into a dish of party favors in the kitchen earlier.”

“I don’t do drugs.”

He raised a brow at my sharp tone, glancing up when our server came by with our drinks. Clay thanked him, then ordered a few appetizers without opening the menu. When we were alone again, he lifted his gin and tonic and tapped his glass against mine.

“Salut! Hey, sorry I didn’t confer with you on the apps. I’ve been here a few times and learned the hard way that it’s best to get your order in ASAP. The bacon-wrapped shrimp is the best, but you’re allergic to shellfish, right?”

“I told you that?”

“Yeah.” His knowing smile made me uneasy.

I sipped my gin thoughtfully as I studied my “date.” Truth time…my memory of that night was foggy at best. I’d been so sick afterward that I’d purposely buried the unpleasant parts, like waking up covered in sweat and racing to the bathroom to vomit. I’d spent the majority of the next twenty-four hours hovering near the porcelain bowl with my head pounding, sure I’d caught a wicked flu bug.

“Hmm. Your memory is better than mine,” I said lightly before changing the subject. “Tell me about the photo shoot. Charlie’s excited about it.”

Clay beamed. “Love that guy! I brought my iPad to show you some new additions to my portfolio. It’ll be less in-your-face-sexy than the ones we went through a couple of months ago. I just returned home from a photo shoot in Tulum. Have you ever been? Damn, it was nice. I used a new photographer and…”

I tuned him out, nodding on cue when he talked about the color of the water and the warmth of the sand. His peppy cadence and animated hand gestures were entertaining. In fact, he seemed like the kind of guy who didn’t need a big audience. He was friendly enough that his occasional flashes of arrogance came across as self-confidence rather than self-absorption. The truth was most likely somewhere in between, but that was probably great for someone who hoped to work with a rock band.

I let him talk uninterrupted through appetizers and a second cocktail, but when our dinners arrived, I took over.