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She beams. "Really?"
"Come to the show next week. You can pitch it to the other guys."
"Come to the show?"
I nod.
"Backstage, with the band?"
I chuckle. "That's where we'll be."
"Okay. But, it's kind of loud backstage, isn't it? I can scream, but I'm not sure my pitch will get the full attention it deserves between sets of—who else is playing?"
"Wicked Beat goes on before us."
Her eyes go wide. "Sure. I'd love to go. I'll make sure to pitch this one the best."
"The guys like to make my life miserable. They'll probably try to pick the one I hate the most."
"You're not in charge?"
"Tragically, we use democracy."
She laughs. "That would be tragic for the former dictator."
"I prefer calling it a republic."
"You're a senator?"
"Exactly."
"Like Chancellor Palpatine."
I chuckle. "Nerd."
"I went to film school. Not news. Besides, Star Wars is mainstream now. Didn't you get the memo?"
"Missed that one."
She smiles. "Okay, well, I'll play down how much you like it." She looks to her computer. "Shit, have we really been talking this long?"
"What time is it?"
"Almost one."
"Time flies when you're focused." Say, on a beautiful, interesting woman who is not supposed to be in your bed.
"Do you have some place to be?" she asks.
In my bedroom, tying her to the frame. "I'm wide open."
She puts her computer away, pushes herself to her feet, and looks around the room. "We could, um… we could go to the beach."
"Could we?"
"Not all of us live steps from paradise." Her smile gets sheepish. "I brought my bikini."
I push myself off the couch. "Is that what you want to do?"
