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Well, notexactlyconversation. The blond, spectacled guy was silent while the dark-haired guy ranted to him in a Boston accent.
“There’s no fucken way he’s better than Jordan. He’s good. Hell, he’s great. But there’s no comparison to therealgoat. You’re a math guy, Asher. Count the rings.”
“I’m atechguy,” the blond one—Asher?—said quietly.
“Whatever. You get what I’m saying. Oh shit! You see that dunk?”
Maurice leaned close to me and whispered, “I can’t decide which of the three is the most delicious.”
“Are either ofthemgay?” I asked.
Maurice smiled lustily at them. “After an hour with me? They would be.”
I giggled and sipped my beer. Maurice wasn’t wrong. They were every bit as sexy as Rogan, their dress shirts clinging to their muscular frames. They looked like they were in the military. The kind of guys that might abruptly have to leave town on a secret deployment.
“What did Rogan say they did?” I asked. “He said he was one-third of something…”
“A security company, I think.”
Maurice finished his last piece of food and looked sadly at his empty plate. As if on cue, Rogan got up from his seat across the aisle and came over to us.
“Can I get you anything else?” he asked.
Maurice started to raise his plate, but I quickly said, “We’re fine for now, thank you.”
Maurice sighed, but Rogan’s attention was on me. He sat in the row in front of us and turned sideways so he could talk to us.
“We appreciate you coming out to the game. Hope you like the seats.”
“Yeah, they’re amazing. Thanks for having us.”
“Happy to do it, especially for potential clients.”
Potential clients.That made sense. They looked like bodyguards. And Rogan already mentioned me needing his services. They were probably hoping that Amirah Pratt—the real one—would hire them for protection or something. If she was a big Netflix star, then she probably had a lot of crazy fans.
And I’m just an aspiring actor who has to steal food and alcohol from a suite. Maybe I had bitten off more than I could chew.
“Do you live in the city?” Rogan asked.
“We’re out in the valley,” I lied. I had never even been up there, but I knew that’s where a lot of famous people lived. Not to mention it’s where many of the film studios were located.
Rogan nodded along. “How long have you two been engaged?”
I hesitated. He was looking at my diamond ring. But was the real Amirah Pratt engaged? That would blow my cover immediately.
“Oh, we’re not engaged,” I said, smiling over at Maurice. “I just wear the ring to keep people from hitting on me while I’m in public.”
“Smart,” Rogan said. “I bet you get asked out everywhere you go.”
I smiled in spite of everything. It was flattering having a guy this hot—did I mention howsexyhe was?—flirting with me. Catering to me like I was the guest of honor at the suite. Sure, I got hit on when I went out, but Rogan wasn’t like the kind of dude who hung out at sports bars after work. He was different. He wasexceptional.
Then I remembered that he was only treating me this way because he thought I was a famous actress.
Yeah, I won’t lie. That stung a little.
Rogan nodded at my empty glass. “Want another beer?”
“I’d love one,” I said, handing him my empty glass. He disappeared back into the suite.
