“What can I get you, Jackson?” The bartender suddenly turns around, and I do a double take as I recognize the curvacious, curly-haired woman behind the bar.
“Alexis! What the hell are you doing here?” I blurt.
“Surprise!” Alexis flicks some water at me. “Turns out you’re not the only one from theLit Loverspodcast who got scouted to be on the show. The producers contacted me to see if I had any interest in being on the show, and when I told them I worked my way through college tending bar, they asked if I wanted to bartend on the show, too!”
“Oh crap! Did I miss the surprise?” Rob trots down the stairs smiling expectantly.
“I’d say you’re here just in time; he hasn’t picked his jaw off the floor yet,” Alexis laughs.
“But? What? Why? How? When did this happen?” I stutter.
“We brought Alexis in right after we got you. Rory and I were listening to the podcast again, and we’d been thinking we need someone to stir the pot.”
“Reporting for CPS duty, Sir!” Alexis salutes Rob.
“CPS duty?” I ask.
“Chief Pot Stirrer,” Alexis explains.
“Ah. That’s a better title than CLITO,” I manage to say with a straight face.
“Did you just say ‘Clito’, as inClitoris?” Now Alexis’s mouth is hanging open.
“I can’t even recall what it stood for now,” I admit.
“Chief Love Information Technology Officer,” Rob supplies, slapping me on the back. “Jackson will always be my CLITO. I don’t care what anyone says.”
“Well the CLITO certainly is important,” Alexis agrees, eyes twinkling at Rob. “The CLITO should never be ignored.”
Ha ha ha.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I ask Rob. “What if her meddling messes things up?”
“Nah,” Rob dismisses my concerns. “Sometimes you gotta shake the tree to get the ripe fruit to fall off, right, Isla? Don’t you always say it’s all about timing?”
“Yes, but we don’t want to shake the tree before the fruit is ripe, do we? If you don’t give people enough of a chance to get to know each other–”
“Isla! Bella! Is that you?” I am interrupted by the shirtless god from the tent. He approaches with arms outstretched and steps between me and Isla to envelop her in a big bare-chested hug that goes on entirely too long for my liking.
His heavy cologne coats my nasal passages like an inescapable sticky substance, making me wish I had something to blow my nose with. Like his shirt. If he were decent enough to be wearing one.
“Mi Isla Bonita!” he effuses as he kisses both cheeks before releasing her. I’m surprised he doesn’t leave streaks on her dress when he pulls away from her. His abs look like they’ve recently been enhanced with airbrushing.
Isla is flushed, clearly overwhelmed by the sudden attention. Alexis, meanwhile, is staring with such comically wide eyes that it can almost hear the old-timey cartoon sound effects.Ah-oooo-gah! Thump, thump. Thump, thump!
Marco doesn’t disappoint - the ladies, at least.
“When Marco hears that his dear friend Isla is doing this show, Marco says, this is the show for me!” Marco announces, in his heavy Italian accent.
Referring to himself in the third person. Charming.
“I mean, this is all so very flattering, but we only met the one time in Rome,” Isla stammers.
“Si, si. But it was a very special way for us to finally meet, no? Verycute, if you know what Marco means? Even though Marco has never graced the cover of one of your books, Marco is your biggest fan, mi amore.” He places his rude, meaty hands on her shoulders, swiveling her on her barstool to face the same direction as him. The nerve of him. Touching her like that. Manhandling her. I feel my own hands forming fists.
“Rob, take a photo of us together,” Marco demands. “Marco doesn’t want to forget a single special moment!”
“I got it!” A staff photographer suddenly appears out of nowhere, snapping photos like a madman. Isla, who is blushing a shade of red that only natural redheads can achieve, doesn’t even have a chance to protest.
