“Yeah.” I chuckled softly. “I think I was twenty-three here. So young.”
“And hot.”
“And dumb.”
Trent bumped my arm playfully. “I was dumb at twenty-three too. I’m a genius now. There’s hope for you yet.”
“I’m a million years older than you, genius. I don’t think that works. This is a good one.” I pointed out a few of my favorites, answered questions, and snickered along with Trent at some of our more interesting fashion choices.
“You oughtta have your designer make a family wall for you,” he commented. “My parents have collages all over the damn house. You can’t take a shit without looking at a pic of dead Aunt Dorothy and her pooch, Mabel, or fifty photos of me in a baseball uniform…when I was six.”
I grinned. “I’d love to see those.”
“They’re embarrassing, but I’m used to it. My mom loves to brag about her kids and grandkids.”
“Yeah? How many nieces and nephews do you have? Do you get along with your sisters? How about your brothers-in-law? Do you get together often?”
Trent cocked his head quizzically, then led me to the bottom step on the grand staircase just off the great room. He answered every question, weaving a colorful tapestry filled with funny childhood stories.
Like the time he tried his mom’s lipstick on and wiped it off on a comforter, not knowing it was permanent. Or when his sister broke her leg climbing a tree and six-year-old Trent dragged her to safety in a wagon.
Every story shared made me feel more connected to him. And the voices and laughter of the people I cared most about in the world was the perfect backdrop. Like a warm, loving hug of goodness.
Trent made me more aware than ever that I was a fortunate man. I didn’t have the connections to blood relatives he did, but I had this.
And I had him.
I desired him, lusted after his body, craved his time, and wanted his attention. I loved that he felt the same for me. And yes, I knew he wouldn’t feel that way forever. Eventually, I’d do something unintentional to jeopardize this. I always did.
If I were a better person, I’d warn him. But c’mon, I was me. A real bastard. I might as well enjoy the hell out of this ride for as long as possible and hope I didn’t fuck it up too soon.
Beware.
Life had a funny way of throwing shit you created right back atcha when you least expected it. I wasn’t immune, but I had a knack for reading situations and assessing danger. The key was to stay alert. And it wasn’t easy to stay on top of every little detail when all I wanted was to be with Trent.
Like now. I had to get through one more meeting before he picked me up and whisked me off on a romantic date at a dive bar or bowling alley. Two hours and counting.
My cell vibrated in my suit coat as I reached for the conference room door. Nance, Ed, and Milt the Agreeable looked up from their side of the glass wall. Kathy from Marketing sat at the far end of the table on the edge of her seat next to a couple of members from her staff.
I was one of those weird people who loved discussing promotion and advertising, but I dreaded long meetings and this one might take a while.
The Last Drop was ready in prerelease stages. My marketing team had run a few light ad campaigns and prepared the previews for distribution. They’d tweaked promotion and brainstormed over new ways to create a buzz up through the first two weeks after release. I didn’t usually give up zinger rights, but I trusted this crew. And delegating this task allowed me to concentrate on getting the next film off the ground.
Of course, I could always veto if I hated their suggestions. I hoped that wasn’t the case. We were running out of time, I mused, pulling my cell out to glance at the caller ID.
“Hey, Char.”
“We have to talk.”
“I can’t. I’m heading into a marketing meeting. Is this life or death?”
“No, but—”
“Then I’ll call you when I’m done.” I disconnected the call, slipped my phone into my pocket, and headed into the conference room. I took my place at the head of the table and flashed a friendly smile. “Greetings, everyone. Let’s get the ball rolling. Do we have data analytics and premarketing numbers? And where are we going with our big buzz for The Last Drop? Gimme something catchy, something sexy, something that makes every moviegoer talk about how fucking awesome Baxter is. Wow me.”
Kathy from Marketing spoke up first. “Our initial numbers are fantastic, Seb. Fans are beyond excited about this movie. I have a few graphics to show you what we’re seeing.”
I swiveled in my chair and studied the chart projected on the wall behind me. “What am I looking at?”