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Cassie shoots her ex an oh, I know look. I'm not sure what it means, but I like the hate in it.
"It's an open bar, so it won't be too bad." He stands and offers Cassie a hug. "I'll email details."
She accepts the hug and he moves on to the rest of the table. Only he doesn't hold them the way he held her, like he really wants them closer.
He gets to me and I offer my hand.
Bryce smiles. "I get it. You're protective of your girl. It's sweet." He looks to Cassie. "Can I borrow your boyfriend for a minute?"
"Depends what you want to use him for." She pushes her lips into an over-the-top smile. "There are certain things I consider off-limits."
"Strictly to talk about his father," Bryce says.
"Oh, then it's your funeral." She winks at Bryce and looks to me with concern. I hate talking about my father. In any context.
But the guy is the biggest songwriter this side of Max Martin. He's also a former rock star, TMZ regular, and sex icon. Sure, the gossip of today is different, but it's the same sort of thing. Who is the star fucking? How does he fuck? What does he take before he fucks to make it even better? In Dad's case, that was everyone, indiscriminately, everything, but preferably heroin. Until it was only Mom and without a single substance… for a while, anyway. But I don't usually ask for those details.
Everyone wants to talk about him.
Bryce waits while Cassie hugs me goodbye, then she joins her ex in the living room. Is he fucking with her, or did she take the knife in her back and use it to slit his throat? Metaphorically speaking, of course.
Not that I doubt Cassie's ability to kill. She's tough.
Bryce watches me watch her. "It must be a lot, growing up in the shadow of someone like Miles Webb."
It's not a question. I answer anyway. "I'm used to it."
"Do you have women asking about him?" he asks.
"It's happened." I'm not sure why Bryce cares. His interest in Cassie is clear enough. I guess he could be into men too, but he's not sending lust my way, and everyone agrees I'm the spitting image of my father at twenty-seven.
Maybe that's it. Maybe he's got a thing for older guys.
I wouldn't put anything past him. But, hey, I'm not here to judge. I'm here to play boyfriend and write music, which means I'm playing nice with this guy.
And, well, he is right. Women have cozied up to me in an attempt to get to know my dad. It's pretty rare these days, but ten years ago, it was common enough. It was always older women—they were the ones who came of age when he was a sex icon—but that didn't exactly bother me. There's something about a woman who knows what she wants and exactly how to get it—
It's hot.
"Why do you ask?" I need to think about something besides fucking Cassie. She's not older, but she knows what she wants, and she takes it. She demands it. Is she the same when she's naked?
Fuck, I hope so.
I don't have a submission kink, but I love when Cassie is bossy. I love when any woman is lost enough to demand a certain touch, but the thought of Cassie pinning me to the bed and riding me like I'm a toy strictly for her pleasure.
Or Cassie ordering me out of my clothes.
Or between her legs.
Fuck.
"It's been a while since I was in your position," he says.
"With a famous father?" I ask.
"With someone who only wanted me for me," he says.
"How do you know that's the case?" I ask.
"Do you doubt your girlfriend's motives?" Bryce chuckles, again amused by my potential struggle. He doesn't want me to answer. He continues. "You've been friends since you were kids. She's known you since before she knew what fame was."
"And her dad is as influential as mine," I say.
"No. He's not. But he's a big deal too," Bryce says.
Cassie's dad would hate hearing that, no doubt, but it's true. It's hard to go toe to toe with the American Max Martin and win in a who influences the music industry more game. Not that they're competing.
Or maybe they are. I'm not exactly in Dad's inner circle these days. I'm certainly not in Mr. Steele's inner circle. He started looking at me with apprehension the day I turned thirteen.
"It must be nice…" He shakes his head with frustration, as if he's sharing something real.
Maybe he is.
Maybe I misjudged him.
"Women think they know who I am, because of my songs. They don't see the guy I really am." Bryce looks to the empty living room. "Most don't, anyway." He turns back to me. "I was excited to work with Cassie and Frederick as a team."
