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“Yeah, what about him?”
“He sold a story to the tabloids back when we were first starting to take off,” Trent says.
“He sold out his own brother?”
“People do a lot of stupid shit for drug money,” Tristan says, disdain dripping from every word. His gaze is hard, and his hands are gripping his beer bottle so tightly that his knuckles are starting to turn white. I’m reminded that their mom chose drugs over them, which led to them living with their aunt and uncle—which was probably the best thing for them both since their uncle was a great guy and the one who got them started with music.
“I’m so sorry you guys had to go through that. I get the hesitancy to share. It’s no big deal. I don’t need to know.”
Trent’s deep blue eyes shine with a look I can’t quite describe—maybe a mix between curiosity, respect, and appreciation. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but is interrupted by the emcee for tonight’s trivia night.
“Welcome, everyone, it’s nineties night, which means all the trivia questions are nineties themed. Let’s hope you remember the decade that is coming back with a vengeance. So, just a reminder how tonight goes. Each table is a team, but no table can have more than six people. All trivia questions will be displayed on the monitors—there are three, one back at the bar, and then one on each side of the stage—and on the tablets at your table, which is also where you’ll input your answers.” He points to each of the monitors and uses the table closest to him to point out the tablet that looks like a really thick iPad. “There will be five rounds with five questions each, and we’ll update the standings after each round. Any questions?”
When no one says anything, he smiles and says, “Then let the games begin! What 1990s teen movie was retitled after a song by Britney Spears?”
Oh shit, I know this!
I grab the tablet and inputDrive Me Crazy. I look up at Trent and Tristan who are staring at me with matching bemused expressions. “This game was made for me. I love everything about the nineties. The music, the sitcoms. They don’t make ’em like that anymore.”
“Lock in those answers!” the emcee shouts as all the monitors start displaying a red pulsing screen and a countdown. When it hits zero, all the answers entered on the tablets pop up. Correct answers are shown in green and incorrect answers in red. Our table and two others got the correct answer. I beam at both the guys, and Trent smiles wide.
“Alright, folks, next question. What was the first animated feature film to be nominated for a Best Picture Oscar?”
Both Trent and Tristan immediately look at me, eagerly awaiting my answer. “Oh, come on, is this whole game going to be on my shoulders?”
“Hey, you’re the one who said you love the nineties. We’re just letting the queen do her thing,” Trent says with a smile that is far sexier than it should be.
Wait, no. Not sexy. I cannot find Trent sexy. He’s a rock star. His life is spent touring and being surrounded by gorgeous women. He’s not the stable, put-together guy I’m looking for. He may not be an asshole, but he’s still not what I need. Besides, I came here tonight determined to firmly reestablish our friendship, not flirt with him.
“Okay, fine. Uh, give me a minute.” I’m thrown off. God, I can’t believe I thought Trent was sexy. I haven’t had the hots for him since we were teens. Now is not the time for this.
I start thinking about the question and all the random, typically useless trivia I have about the nineties in my head. Animated feature in the nineties will most likely be a Disney movie. Despite the fact I work in the film industry now—at least in some capacity—I was never all that invested in the Oscars, so I have no idea.
I shrug my shoulders. “I’m at a loss, guys.”
“Beauty and the Beast,” Tristan says casually.
Trent and I both stare at him, our mouths gaping slightly.
“What?” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “It was Jolie’s favorite. She loved the library.”
The monitors start blinking red and I quickly type it in. When the results show up, Tristan’s answer turns out to be the correct one.
“Wow, that was impressive.”
“If it has to do with Jo, Tristan knows all about it,” Trent says before taking a sip of his water.
Tristan shoots him a glare but doesn’t say anything. Clearly I’m missing something, but I decide not to press. We finish the round, only missing one question out of the five, when the emcee announces there will be a five-minute break.
“I thought you were here to hook Becka up with someone. Seems you’re slacking,” Tristan says.
Trent’s jaw—his very defined jaw with just the slightest hint of stubble—clenches before he looks around the room. He tilts his chin and gives a small nod to a group of guys two tables away from us.
“What do you think of the blond guy? That’s Cooper. He’s a good guy.”
“Blond guys aren’t really my type.”
“Ah, right. You like them tall, dark, and preppy.”
