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“Mmm, hello, love.” Dawson wrapped his arms around Paige’s waist and lowered his head to kiss her neck. “You taste even better than a Grinch’s Jingle Balls.”
Over his shoulder, Paige raised an eyebrow at me. “That hardly sounds like a compliment.”
“Oh, but it is.” I brushed my chalky fingers on my frilly fifties-inspired Christmas apron and pushed the shot glass her way. “Try it.”
She slapped Dawson’s ass before pushing him away, and after downing the rest of the green liquor in one swallow, she nodded. “Tasty balls. What else ya got?”
“Well, Ace requested a lemon drop, so that’s the Locke Licker. Randy Rudolph is a twist on a cosmopolitan, and we can’t forget our favorite white Russian, known today as Santa’s Coming.”
“Ooh, dirty girl. I like it. Make sure you save me at least three of those for later.”
“Locked and loaded, and I’ll even put cherries on top.”
Paige grinned. “You’re so good to me. What would I do without you?”
“Ask Shayne or Quinn to do it?” When she laughed, I knew I had her number. There wasn’t anything any one of us wouldn’t do for each other, and keeping each other liquored up as needed was the least of it.
“Ugh, I can’t believe Quinn’s gone MIA, and what the hell with Shayne letting Nate drag her off to freezing Michigan for the holidays? All she’ll get there is a pair of blue balls for Christmas.” Paige leaned on the bar, her chin resting on her fist. “You know she didn’t even have the right clothes? I had to loan her my winter wardrobe.”
I shrugged. “It’s not like we need heavy jackets in L.A. I’m sure she’s fine.”
“You’re going to give me the ‘she’s got Nate to keep her warm’ spiel now, aren’t you?”
“Well, she does. And he is pretty hot.”
“But she’d have so much more fun here. I mean, look at this place.” She gestured around at the decorated arena that, even unlit, took my breath away. In a few short hours, this place would be a winter wonderland, and I couldn’t wait.
“You’ve seriously outdone yourself.” I noticed Dawson eyeing the remaining shots and pushed the glasses his way before turning my attention back to Paige. “You dying yet?”
“Me?” Paige tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder. “Please. I could do this in my sleep.”
“Yeah? I heard some rumblings that the Fallen Angel guys were having issues yesterday.”
“Oh, I smacked that shit down real fast. It was more of Viper having an issue with Trent, blah blah blah, ego stuff, blah blah blah, you left the band, blah blah blah, I still hate your guts.”
“Uh, they are still playing tonight, right?” I couldn’t imagine the event could happen without the main performers, and I definitely didn’t envy Paige’s job. I’d stick to my boozy shakes and drinks, spank you.
Paige rolled her eyes. “Duh. I regulated.”
“What my girl does best,” Dawson said, throwing his arm around Paige’s shoulders and kissing the top of her head, and as she leaned into him, she nodded.
“Damn right. That’s what I do—” Paige’s words cut off as behind the happy—if not somewhat unconventional—couple, one of JULIEN’s catering staff timidly tapped Dawson on the shoulder.
“Excuse me,” the girl said, her pale skin blushing fiercely. “I don’t mean to bother you, but, um…could I get an autograph?”
The three of us went still, and then, one by one, we looked at each other in confusion.
“I-it is you, right?” the girl stammered, and bit her lip. “From Fallen Angel?”
My snort caught the girl’s attention, but I quickly covered up my laugh by coughing. She thought Dawson was one of the Fallen Angel guys?
Dawson blinked in surprise, and then he smiled, the cocky, self-assured smile of someone who really was a member of one of the hottest rock bands in the world. He dropped his arm from Paige’s shoulders and took the girl’s hand in his, bending down to press a kiss to her knuckles. “And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”
Paige looked over her shoulder at me and mouthed, Is he freaking kidding? and I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
A dreamy look crossed the girl’s face as he took the pen she offered and signed an event brochure, and I had to wonder where she got the idea he was famous. Maybe it was the way he dressed? He was more casual today than usual, but only because he couldn’t hang a banner while wearing a suit. But with his long dirty-blond hair, a collared shirt with a gaggle of necklaces holding it open, and rings on most of his fingers—along with the aforementioned guyliner—I guessed he did look like someone who belonged in a band. Too bad I’d heard him sing karaoke, or maybe I’d fall for it too.
