Famous in a Small Town

Garrett sighed. “Take Gene back to L.A. with you when you go, would you?”

“He’s your fucking dog now, and you’re going to start looking after him,” said Smith. While his voice stayed remarkably calm, the resolve was clear to all. “I know he reminds you of her, but hell . . . apparently everything does. Grace told me to give you a year. One year to mourn her before it was time for you to get your shit together and move on. You’ve had two.”

Garrett’s nostrils flared like that of some pissed-off stallion.

And maybe if I sat statue still they’d forget I was there. Because holy shit was this a personal conversation to be having in front of a veritable stranger.

“She asked me to look after you,” said Smith. “And I gave her my word that I would. It’s time for you to stop running and hiding and start living again.”

Garrett’s whole body had gone rigid. “Not your choice to make.”

I set aside my wine. “And this is where I leave you guys to it.”

“Actually, this next bit concerns you,” said Smith.

“What?” I asked, incredulous.

Garrett screwed up his face. “How?”

“Glad you asked. It’s actually the reason I invited your charming new neighbor to join us this evening.” Smith let out a breath. “Garrett, you’re going to get back out there and start living your life again. See your friends and start dating.”

Garrett’s heavy brows arched high. Then he asked with great disdain, “Dating?”

“Yes.”

I raised my hand.

Smith cocked his head. “Ani?”

“Sorry to interrupt again. But what part of this involves me, exactly?”

“The dating part,” said Smith in that same no-nonsense tone. “Do you know that within the first hour of my being here, Garrett looked out the window in the direction of your house no less than four times?”

“I was checking on the weather,” grouched Garrett.

Smith took a sip of wine. “Liar.”

“And making sure she wasn’t watching me.”

“Like you were watching her, because that would be . . . what exactly?”

Garrett’s mouth slammed shut.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m pretty sure the watching-my-place has more to do with his various neuroses than anything to do with actually liking me. But I feel like now is a good time to tell you that I don’t date. Haven’t done so for years, and I have no intention of starting again.”

An expression of much relief passed over Garrett’s face. Which was somewhat insulting. But whatever.

Smith frowned.

“Not that your friend here isn’t a singular delight,” I said. “But yeah, not a chance.”

“Hmm.” Smith swirled his wine around in the glass and thought deep thoughts. “May I ask why you don’t date?”

“It’s personal.”

“You’re amongst friends.”

“It’s deeply personal, and we actually only just met.”

“Okay.” Smith skewed his lips to one side. “So what, you don’t find him attractive?”

Garrett looked to Heaven, but there was no help forthcoming. Then he turned to me and his gaze was . . . cranky but curious.

I downed the remaining half of my wine. For reasons. “He’s a very attractive man, as I’m sure he well knows.”

“Oh. Got it. You think he’s egotistical.” Smith grabbed the bottle and reached over to refill my glass.

“I didn’t say that.”

Smith nodded contemplatively. “I mean, I can kind of see where you’re coming from.”

“I repeat, I did not say that.”

“Yeah, but you kind of inferred it,” said Garrett with a vaguely malicious sort of glee. What a jerk.

“You really did,” agreed Smith. “Though you also put the word very in front of attractive. So it’s not all bad news, man.”

Give me strength.

Smith clicked his fingers like he’d solved the puzzle. “Is he not rich enough for you? Is that it?”

Garrett scoffed. Talk about ego.

I just shook my head.

“Fine. Your charming neighbor is not available. We’re going to need a backup plan.” Smith shrugged and shoved a hand through his short blond hair. “Let me think. What about that nice production assistant who worked on the last album . . . what was her name . . . Savannah. That’s it. She drove an awesome Impala. Huge backseat. Or there was Nicole from the lighting crew. You remember, she had gray hair. Very cute. Or Janis from the front desk at the record company. Lovely lady. And so flexible. Did you know she teaches yoga in her spare time?”

Garrett downed more of the scotch.

“Then there’s the supermodels from that video we shot in Santa Monica. Nevena and Kista.” Smith smiled wistfully at the memory. “Kista has a PhD in microbiology. Fascinating woman. And Nevena is working on her first romance novel, I believe. I wonder how she’s doing with that.”

“You’re just listing off women you’ve slept with,” said Garrett with his usual frown.

“And your point is? I have excellent taste in women,” said Smith. “You’d be lucky to date any one of them. Though Nevena and Kista are actually an established couple looking to become a throuple. Best to keep that in mind if you give them a call.”