Starting From the Top (Starting from 5)

“Tough day, dear?”

“You could say that. I didn’t plan on being here at all this weekend. One employee called in sick, another broke his arm skiing yesterday, and one decided not to show up at all. Garrett was overwhelmed. I need to hire an assistant for him. I shouldn’t be playing bartender. If this happened when I had the kids, I wouldn’t have been able to help. Fuck, I need a vacation,” he groused, rubbing his nape with a ragged sigh.

I pushed my glass of water toward him. “Have a drink. You need this more than I do.”

Sean smiled. “Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” I shifted on my seat, sliding my thigh against his. “So…where would you go if you could go anywhere on vacation?”

“Palm Springs.”

I wrinkled my nose and made a “What the fuck?” face. “Dream bigger, buddy. You can do better than the fuckin’ desert.”

He chuckled. “I’d be fine with a weekend getaway. I should have been there this weekend. My friends were expecting me, but—”

“You have friends?”

“I pay them a friendship fee,” he countered dryly, bumping my elbow off the table. “Yeah, I have a couple of friends, wise guy.”

I grinned at his faux-exasperated snarl, noting that he already seemed more relaxed. His shoulders weren’t quite as stiff, and his expression had softened. “Good. Friends are important. What are yours like? Are they old and hip, young and boring? Have you known them forever, or are they new? Are they all gay or straight? Do they know your kids?”

“How is any of that interesting?”

That was easier to answer than I would have thought. “You’re interesting to me.”

“Really? Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but it’s not all that exciting. I’ve lost more friends than I’ve gained over the past five years. I have a handful from college and one or two who were joint friends when Fiona and I were married and the kids were little. It’s true that you find out who your friends are when life gets tough. The fact that I’ve lost more friends than I’ve kept probably says something uncomfortable about me,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh.

“It probably says you grew up. People change and evolve.”

“Maybe so.”

“And they make mistakes. Some learn from them, some don’t,” I commented like the fucking sage I was not.

“True. The thing about me is that I’m not as friendly as you. My bullshit meter runs low, and I just don’t have the patience to deal with the crap I used to think I had to deal with in my life. Friendships are important, but I’d rather have one or two good ones than surround myself with a bunch of assholes who smile at my face and talk about me behind my back. Been there, done that.”

“Hmm. What do you do on random Saturday nights when you don’t have the kids? I mean, like tonight. If you hadn’t felt like you had to help out at the club, where would you be?”

“At home watching something on Netflix, thinking about you.” He smiled when I pointed at my chest. “How’d your date go?”

“It wasn’t a date. It was a business meeting over food.”

“So…what happened?”

“What makes you think something happened?” I bluffed.

“You’re shredding that napkin, and you can’t sit still.” He set his hand over my suddenly jittery one and raised a brow. “And you’re here.”

I took another sip and blurted, “I fucked him.”

He jolted visibly. “You…tonight?”

“No, no, no. Not tonight!” I frowned and rolled my eyes. “Months ago.”

“O-kay…”

“After a holiday party in Malibu. Someone might have spiked my drink, or I might have OD’d on Sudafed and chased it with too much tequila in a lame attempt to fight the flu. I don’t remember it at all, and I always remember sex. Always. Maybe it didn’t happen. Maybe he’s lying. He doesn’t seem like the type to make up shit like that, but I guess it’s possible. It’s not a big deal, right? Right. I made it clear I’m not interested. He’s not interested either. And I didn’t do anything wrong, but I feel like I fucked up somehow.” I pushed the water to the edge of the small table and leaned in. “Can you say something, please?”

Sean stroked his beard thoughtfully. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Sorry. You didn’t need to know all that. Or maybe you did. You should stay away from me. I’ll find Parker another guitar teacher.”

“Why?”

“You won’t want him around me. I’m a bad influence.”

“Ah.”

“You’d think it would be fun to have a bad reputation. I should like this, but I don’t. And you’re still not saying anything,” I grumbled unhappily.

He studied me like a bug under a microscope for a long moment, then stood. “Let’s go to my office.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

My heart beat like a drum in my chest. I didn’t think the rush of adrenaline had anything to do with exertion, though it took some effort to keep up with Sean as he navigated through the club and down a deserted hallway. He unlocked the door at the end, turning on an overhead light when I stepped inside. I flopped onto one of the chairs across from the desk and sighed heavily.