“Oh yeah? You noticed me, huh?” He rubs his hands together in a move that I’m guessing is supposed to be… enticing? “I noticed you, too. The red hair really stands out.”
“Oh.” I touch my locks and smile. “Yeah. What’s your name?”
“Caleb.” He perches on the stool beside me and looks over at me. “So, are you in school around here?”
“I graduated two years ago. I work for… a sports entertainment company.” I realize that if I just tell this guy where I work, he could play up his interest in hopes of getting tickets.
I’ve been lying to people about who my big brother is for years. I want to be seen as my own person, not merely someone’s sister. This is merely an extension of that.
“That sounds good.” Caleb puffs up his chest. “I work for a startup here. We’re pre-revenue, but our projected track is out of this world.”
“Oh. Huh.” I take another sip of my drink, trying to decide how old Caleb is. Mid-20s, maybe? “Did you… go to school for that?”
“Course. USC.” He grins. “I moved here a few weeks ago, to a pad in Eastlake. I don’t know if you’ve heard of that neighborhood. It’s very up-and-coming.”
I hold in a snort. “I’m from here, so yes. I’ve heard of it.”
“Oh, so you know.” He sticks his tongue out and rubs his hands. “I have to share it with some of the guys, but they’re pretty chill. The walls are like, super soundproof.”
Then he winks. I frown. How badly, exactly, do I need to talk to this overgrown frat boy?
“Uh, that’s good,” I stumble, trying to keep up the flow of conversation.
“It sure is.” Caleb doesn’t seem to mind my stumble. He’s busy checking me out, and not even being subtle about it. “Say, how about another drink, Mellie?”
“It’s Mollie.” My frown deepens. Yeah, I need to get out of this conversationtout de suite. Caleb is not my speed.
“Sure, babe.” He turns and raises his hand, trying to get Olivier’s attention. “Damn, the service in here sucks.”
“He’s helping those people.” I point.
“Still. What’s a guy got to do to get a girl another drink around here? If I just had a pair of tits.”
The wheeze of humor that leaves me is obnoxiously loud. “What? Olivier’s gay.”
He scowls. “You’d think a bartender would want me to buy you another drink.”
“Okay.” I push up from my seat, grabbing Indie’s arm. “Thanks, but I think I’ve had enough.”
That’s when Caleb snakes his hand around my waist. “Wait, babe…”
“Whoa!” I say, stumbling back. “Don’t touch me.”
Indie is right there to catch me. “Let go of her, perv!”
“Don’t be so uptight.” Caleb glares at both of us, but he does release my waist. “You’re a priss. Just a stuck-upvirgin. You two should probably go lez out together.”
His words make a couple things happen in rapid succession. First, Indie growls and jumps at Caleb. Then, before I realize it, I’m covering my ears as a high-pitched whistle starts. It takes me a second to put together that Olivier is blowing the whistle and pointing at Caleb.
And then I see Olivier’s husband Étienne pushing bodies aside, determined to get to Caleb. Indie stops trying to kill him and laughs. When the whistle stops, Étienne grabs Caleb by the shoulders and starts to drag him out of the bar.
“Get off of me!” Caleb says, his face flushing bright red. “I wasn’t doing anything!”
I look at Indie, my chin wobbling. And before I can say anything, I promptly burst into tears.
Chapter Twelve
Thorne
