And the proceeds went to the Harrison Music School scholarship fund. Harper had taken a date here last year and had said it was good. Which from a philistine like him didn’t say much, but it had to be at least passable.
What he hadn’t anticipated when he bought the “VIP” tickets was that they’d be seated close to the stage. Front and center. Where the world could see him. Good thing he wasn’t trying to hide who he was. Especially not with octopus Max touching him all the time.
The host showed them to their table. Most of the crowd was dressed up—not black tie, but sports coats and blazers outnumbered jeans and T-shirts. Darren was glad he’d suggested Max wear the jacket and tie, given they were on display.
“Mr. Gage?” An older woman in an evening dress appeared over his left shoulder. Turning to face her gave him an excuse to recover his hand.
“Yes?” He didn’t know her, or how she knew him.
“Mary Plower. I run the scholarship fund for the music school.” She held out her hand, and Darren wiped his on his pants before shaking. “Thank you so much for coming, and for buying VIP tickets. Your family is already so generous. Had I known you wanted to come, I’d have set aside tickets for you and your . . .” She looked at Max hovering near him.
“Date,” Darren forced out. “Ms. Plower, this is Maxwell Stempson.”
Her eyebrow rose a fraction. Clearly, arriving with a Gage was proof enough that Max was a scion of the Stempson family of Stempson & Wilson Pharmaceutical fame.
“Mr. Stempson, how wonderful to meet you. I hope you’ll enjoy our show. We’re truly fortunate to have some wonderful talent tonight.”
“I’m sure,” Max muttered.
“I’m looking forward to hearing them,” Darren said with more enthusiasm. “I’ve heard some of the music students play, and if the performers tonight are half as good, this is going to be a great show.”
It was a lie. He’d only heard Isaiah play, but he had been impressed. Mary’s smile widened. “We think so. Let me send over a drink. On the house.”
“Scotch and water,” Max said before taking his seat.
“No, ma’am.” Darren shook his head. “This is a fundraiser for something important. I’ll go set up a tab.”
“Just like your father.”
“What?” The confusion in his tone left his host sputtering.
“You’re very generous. Like your father has been.”
He didn’t know how to absorb that one and forced a thankful nod.
Her eyes darted over his shoulder, and she excused herself, saying she needed to greet someone who had just arrived.
“Why’d you do that?” Max huffed. “She was going to comp us drinks.”
“Seriously?” Darren gripped the back of the chair, wondering if he should even sit. “It’s a fundraiser. Of all the people here, who needs a comp less than us?”
Max rolled his eyes. “Not the point. You had her eating out of your hand and you turned down a gift.”
“Fine.” It wasn’t, but he was over this conversation. “I’m buying anyway.”
He walked over to the bar to get his “date” a drink.
Isaiah
Isaiah chuckled as Nico entered Caliber like he owned the club. With his chiseled good looks and hair slicked back, he looked like a film star of decades past. The bright purple sports coat drew all the attention Nico had hoped. He smiled like a superstar surveying adoring fans.
The place was packed, which was a good thing for a fundraiser, but bad if you needed a seat. Fortunately, he’d scored tickets to a table. Next year, hopefully he’d be a participant. If he was still attending Harrison.
He ran into Nico’s back and stifled a curse as he watched his roommate scan the room. His head darted back and forth like he was following a ping-pong game. Isaiah knew what was happening. Nico had the most amazing talent to size up a crowded room in seconds and spot the two or three hottest guys. Like, every time.
And generally, he scored with one of them. But this wasn’t the time.
“Will you stop,” Isaiah hissed. “At least wait till we get to the table.”
“Okay, but by then you are going to owe me the apology of a lifetime.”
“What are you talking about?”
Nico’s smirk was particularly irritating as he motioned with his eyes.
“What am I looking . . .” Impossible. “Is that . . .?”
“You tell me?” Nico’s voice didn’t hide his extreme amusement. “If you were still uncertain . . . ”
Isaiah stood, stunned. What was Darren doing here? Sitting at a VIP table. With a guy? “His date?”
“Looks like one to me.”
The two sat almost shoulder to shoulder, and the other guy said something and rubbed Darren’s upper arm. Darren grabbed his drink and downed half the contents. From the size of the glass it was probably soda, but he drank like it was hard liquor.