“Call me if it ever comes down to that,” I say with a laugh.
She smiles wryly and together we head over to the bar, where I say a quick hi and bye to the rest of the band, as well as Ralph’s wife, Jane.
“Taking off already?” Curtis asks.
“Yeah, I’ve got a few phone calls to make before the show. But I’ll see you all tonight.”
My eyes land on Adam last, and he takes a sip of his beer. “Tell Iris hi for me.”
I hitch my bag higher on my shoulder and turn to leave, but not before I shoot him a look that says,I loathe you.
His lips twitch in response:Do you, though?
And god help me, but we both know I don’t. I’m not sure I ever did.
CHAPTER SIXTEENADAM
Ralph talks a mile a minute while I nurse my beer, a session IPA aptly named Hair of the Dog, which I ordered mostly out of a sense of obligation. I’ve taken only about three sips, but I am grateful for something to do with my hands as I watch Eleanor walk away. I didn’t expect her to go so soon, thought maybe we’d leave together, even though we’d have no reason to do that.
When she’s out the door and out of sight, I refocus on the conversation happening over my head, at which point I realize Ralph’s wife, Jane, is watching me with a shrewd expression. Mercifully, she sips her beer and goes back to listening to Ralph list off all the places he’s looking forward to eating when he’s back home in LA.
Jane is a freelance food writer, so she immediately starts throwing out names of restaurants that are on her list to review, some of which she’s specifically saved for when Ralph was home from tour.
“Do you have a favorite date spot?” I find myself asking.
“What kind of food? Are you into Peruvian cuisine?”
“Uh, sure. I like pretty much everything.”
“That’s the great part about living in LA, right? Something for everyone.”
Curtis nods along next to her, though I’m not entirely convinced the guy is paying any attention. I’m fairly certain he has a rhythm playing in his head at all times, maybe even when he’s asleep, so that could account for the nodding.
Either way, Jane winds up giving me a whole list, which I diligently type into the notes app on my phone.
“Are you seeing someone?” she asks when I’ve caught up on typing. I tense, keeping my eyes on my phone screen, but Jane does not bring up Eleanor, despite what I have begun to suspect is a super-obvious crush on my part. “If they have a favorite dish I haven’t covered, I’ve got more recs.”
“Um…” Against my will, my gaze flickers over to the high-top table where Eleanor was talking with Freddie and Sheridan a minute ago. Now it’s just the two siblings, who seem to be bickering in Eleanor’s absence, albeit in hushed voices that don’t carry to me. Sheridan says something through clenched teeth while Freddie pointedly gulps his beer and avoids her stare. She flicks his shoulder to get his attention and he smacks her hand away with a huff. I clear my throat and run my thumb along the side of my glass, collecting condensation. “No. Not seeing anyone.”
“Good to be prepared, though, right?”
“Exactly.” I match Jane’s smile, even if it feels tight.
My phone buzzes and I scramble to pull it out of my pocket, thinking—hoping, maybe—that it’s a text from Eleanor. But it’s the group chat again, the guys arguing overwhich bar they should hit for happy hour. I shove my phone away and turn to ask Ralph his opinion on scooped bagels, which has him off to the races again.
Freddie makes his way over, setting his empty glass on the bar top loudly and flagging the bartender down to ask for another. Sheridan remains across the room. She stands with her back to the rest of us, but it’s obvious she’s fuming from the tense set of her shoulders, the way her hands brace against her hips. She walks out the same door as Eleanor without a word to anyone.
“Everything okay with Sher?” Ralph asks, evidently having been keeping an eye on her as well.
Freddie downs half of his fresh beer before answering. “She’s fine. Just being a bitch.”
“Come on, man,” Curtis says in a disapproving voice. “We told you to cut that shit out.”
“Adam, glad you could make it.” Freddie claps my shoulder, acting as though he didn’t hear Curtis. “We still have a few things to talk about after last night.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Sher to come back?” Ralph asks, his attention divided as Jane slips off her barstool.
“You wanna get your head bitten off? By all means, go fetch her.” Freddie takes another pull of his beer and then mutters into his glass: “Or should we sit here discussing bread for the rest of the day?”
