Aria had sighed, then acquiesced. All in the name of good PR.
Before long, Aria has applied her makeup—including her signature red lipstick—and styled her hair. Her hair and makeup are done so often by the professionals before shows that she actually looks forward to doing it herself when the occasion allows. It feels nice to have more input on her own look. Take some chances with makeup.
An hour before she is due at the gala, her driver pulls up in a black car and idles as Aria makes her finishing touches. In a final sweep, she grabs her silver clutch, wraps a silky scarf around her neck, and takes Bailey into her arms.
“Have fun,” Bailey says. “I bet Griffin will look great in a tux.”
Aria gives her sister a squeeze, then releases her. “My only goal is to make it out of there with a cute PR moment—oh, and make some money for the sweet animals, of course.”
Aria walks out, taking the steps carefully in her heels, and loads into her ride.
On the drive there, she mulls over what Bailey said about Griffin in the tux. The thought hadn’t crossed Aria’s mind until her sister mentioned it, but she doesn’t disagree. Griffin would probably look nice in a tux, but then again, that has nothing to do with her.
Aria pulls out her phone and starts jotting down ideas for song lyrics as the car slowly makes its way toward downtown.
Aria arrives first at the hotel and is snuck in through a back entrance that leads into a small hallway. Almost at once, the door to the room appears, and she’s ushered in by an event volunteer.
“We stocked a full bar with snacks from your requested list sent by PR,” the waiter says, folding his hands at his waist. “But there’s also a call button here if there’s anything you need that is not stocked. Mr. Hayes should be here shortly.” He nods his head and ducks efficiently out into the hall.
Aria hates these lists she’s asked to send so places have the right food and drinks. She’s genuinely flexible when it comes to that stuff, and it makes her feel like such a snob to make demands. Rumor has it that some artists will demand candies be picked out of a mix for imperfections or beverages be flown in from overseas.
Taking a quick glance at the bar, it appears Griffin doesn’t fall into that category either. Much to her relief.
Then, with a gentleclickof the doorknob and the swing of the door, the man himself appears. He stops short before fully entering the room, as if there’s some confusion over whether he’s in the right place. Aria smiles and waves, and he walks tentatively in and pulls the door shut behind him.
“Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t barging in,” Griffin says.
He wears a classic black tux, one that spans the gulf between his shoulders but tapers at his waist. His pants must’ve been heavily altered—his thighs thick and muscular.
“It’s not a dressing room, Griffin! Just a hangout spot for us ‘friends.’”
He smiles as he props his hands on his hips and takes in the room. “I hope it won’t be too painful getting through the evening together.”
“I think we’ll get along just fine.”
“Me too,” he says. “Assuming they only keep us onstage for a bit.”
Aria cocks her head, then slips onto a barstool. “Am I hearing a hint of stage fright?”
Griffin takes the lapels of his jacket and adjusts them, even though they don’t need any adjustments. “Guess I’m sort of a one-trick pony. I can play tight end, and that’s it for me.”
“Can I grab you anything from the bar?” Aria reaches over and takes a Coke for herself.
Griffin wanders over to the bar and slides behind it. “Hmm, the pickings are good, but in season, it’s pretty much water or Gatorade for me, as lame as it sounds.” He reaches over and takes the can of Coke from Aria’s hand. “Allow me?”
Griffin takes the scoop from the ice bucket, fills a plastic cup, pulls the can tab, and attentively pours the soda, monitoring the fizz level to make sure it doesn’t run over.
“You look like you’ve got some experience with sodas there.” Aria grins at him.
He’s quite the gentleman looking out for her like this. You never know with celebrity types. Some of them are all charm while the cameras are rolling, making sure they’re only captured in their best light. But behind the scenes—in a situation much like this—it’s upturned noses, demands being made, and all cold shoulders. Aria feels her mood lift slightly. Maybe Griffin is the sort of person she wouldn’t mind being friends with after all.
“I come from a long line of health-conscious medical professionals, so let’s just say that when the chance came to get a soda, you didn’t let it spill.”
He sets a beverage napkin down on the bar and then places the cup on top.
Aria takes it and sips. “Thank you. This might be the best poured Coke I’ve had this year.”
Griffin pulls a hand to his chest in mock thrill. “Well, I’ll be.”
