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“Hey, Matt. Don’t get your hopes up. Everything sucks tonight.” I tilt my head toward the stage. “You want your usual?”
“Yep. Add a shot of tequila.”
I pull out a Corona, open it, add a wedge of lime, and then pour a shot of Patrón. “Where’s your brother been? I haven’t seen him for a while.”
“Europe. With the wife.”
“Whoa. Your brother got married?” I arch an eyebrow because that’s like telling me that the Pope performed a satanic ritual inside the Sistine Chapel.
Matt and Jacob Decker are anything but relationship material.
“Yep, he’s married. Not sure if you met her. Her name is Pria. It happened a couple of months ago.”
I bob my head, trying to connect the dots.
Pria is the chick who’s been hanging around with Jacob for the past few months.
Jacob is one of the scouts who visits the Silver Moon the most. His family owns a record label—Decker Records—and they’ve been coming to the bar for about thirty-some years to scout.
There’s always someone here from their company. But Matthew is the only one who comes by the bar and chats with me. He’s, in fact, the only patron I enjoy talking to. He’s smart, and we can spend hours chatting.
I remember Pria gave me her digits to call her if Jacob ever got too drunk or started fucking around. His image consultant, she’d called herself. She must’ve turned out to be more than that. Who knew she’d tame him?
“My brother plans to announce their nuptials next year. They’re trying to keep it under wraps for as long as possible.”
“Wow, well there will be hearts breaking as soon as the media gets wind of it.”
Then he narrows his gaze. “Not yours, I hope?”
I chuckle. “Uh… nope. I know better than to crush on a Decker man.” I wink at him.
My delivery of the line is so flawless that I almost believe it myself. His stern face makes my insides go gooey, but I act like he has no power over me. Many will say that these brothers are the same. They’re not. To me they’re different. Matthew’s vibe reflects happiness, friendliness, and sweetness. All the while, there’s this commanding persona behind his eyes.
“So, where have you been, Matt?”
I add the question as casually as I can. It’s been a few months since the last time he came to the Silver Moon.
“It’s not: where have you been? Repeat after me: I missed you, Matt.” He grins, then drinks his shot. “I missed you too, my little butterfly.”
I roll my eyes, moving my attention to the man who just stepped next to him. “What can I get you?”
He rubs his shaven skull, and his dark eyes run up and down my body while he leans his muscular body closer to the bar. “Whatever you have on tap and breakfast in bed.”
Ah, great, another funky pickup line for my scrapbook.
“Why are you hitting on my girl, buddy?” Matthew rises from his seat and pins him down with those devilish eyes.
“I-I’m… sorry.” The guy leaves, and I just lost a tip.
“Did you have to do that?” I say, motioning after the guy’s retreating form.
Matt shrugs and keeps drinking his beer. I serve him another round of eye roll.
“There’s a rumor you guys are opening your own bar. Is that true?”
“Yes.” He taps the empty beer before he continues, “It’s a different concept.”
“Great. I’m going to be jobless.” I take his empty bottle of beer and set down a new one.
