Pieces of a muffled conversation drifted my way as I put on my shoes. I didn’t actively try to eavesdrop. I was more concerned with getting out there to save Bobby J from a Topher-style inquisition that might include parental-leaning questions like, “What are your intentions?”
Which of course made me wonder what my intentions were or where I thought this might lead. Topher was right to worry about me. I was dangerously in over my head.
I sucked in a breath before heading into the living area to rescue Bobby J.
Or to help Topher reinsert his tongue into his mouth. My lips quirked with humor at my friend’s dazed expression. I couldn’t blame him. Bobby J looked…edible. He was dressed in his ubiquitous faded blue jeans and black T-shirt, but his hair was damp as though he’d recently taken a shower and—
“You’re wearing glasses!”
Bobby J flashed a naughty lopsided grin my way. “I am. What do you think?”
“I love them. You look so…handsome,” I blurted, setting my hand over my mouth to stop myself from gushing.
“Super handsome,” Topher added. “Where are you two going?”
Bobby J hooked his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to his side. “Well, Code-meister says he’s never been to a concert. We’re going to fix that tonight.”
“A concert! Fun.” Topher cocked his head when he turned to me. “That was on the list.”
“You ready, baby?”
I pasted a smile on my face and nodded wordlessly.
Concert? Fuck.
Big crowds made me nervous, which was one of the reasons I’d never been to a rock concert. The other reasons ranged from the ridiculous price of a ticket and the lack of affordable parking to being one hundred percent certain I wouldn’t feel comfortable in a room full of adults screaming their lungs out like teenagers.
Maybe I was wrong.
This was simply a new experience. And it was nice of him to remember it had been on my list. But when he’d asked if I was free tonight, I assumed we were going to dinner. Dinner was easy. I knew how to do dinner. I didn’t know how to do a concert.
I cleared my throat as he pulled his BMW into the valet line at a club on Hollywood Boulevard. “What kind of concert is this?”
I couldn’t see the marquee from the passenger seat without craning my neck, and my rattled nerves made it difficult to move without trembling. I didn’t want to alarm Bobby J or clue him in to the fact that he’d brought the wrong guy on this date. So I sat as still as possible and listened to his enthusiastic chatter on the twenty-minute drive across town. Practice had gone well. Charlie had gone over the itinerary for the tour. Zero and Jealousy were chartering their own jet. And best of all, he felt like he’d patched things up with Johnny.
“A rock concert. Front row. Well, there aren’t any seats, but we’re VIPs at this one. We’ll get in early and stake a claim. How d’ya like my ride?”
“Your car? It’s nice.”
“Nice? It’s freakin’ awesome. I haven’t driven in forever. Now that I can see again, I’m back in business. Are you hungry? Charlie hired caterers for tonight. There should be plenty of food.”
“Who’s going to be there?”
“Everyone,” he replied. His grin faded when he glanced my way. “You okay?”
“Who me? Of course.”
“You wanted to see a concert, and this is a great way to do it. I kinda wish Jealousy was your first, but this might be more ideal. It’s a small venue, and you’ll know a bunch of the guys at the pre-party.”
“Party?”
“It’s just dinner, baby. Don’t be nervous. I’ll be right there with you,” he said, caressing my cheek.
“I’m not nervous. Not at all. I’m excited,” I lied.
“Good. C’mon.”
Oh, God. Here goes nothing.
I fought past the knot of dread in my gut and followed my magnetic lover through a small crush of people to the side entrance of the club. A ginormous bouncer wearing a headset and a scowl brightened at the sight of Bobby J. He slapped a high five and ushered us inside. Bobby J laced his fingers with mine and led us through a narrow corridor to what I assumed was the backstage area.
A couple of dozen people milled around a table near the wall and in the middle of the cramped space. Laughter and conversation were slightly muted by the screech of an electric guitar.
Bobby J dropped my hand to raise both of his in the air like a prizefighter entering a ring. Everything seemed to stop when he walked into the room. His friends cheered, someone handed him a drink, someone else handed him an instrument. He gave the drink to me to hold while he showed off on the guitar, closing his eyes and leaning into the notes like a true showman. I sipped the mystery cocktail unthinking as I took in the scene.