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“Remember me? The concert two years ago? It’s Shawn.”
The handsome brunet man yelled out to me and held open his arms like we were long-lost lovers reuniting in a rom-com.
Did I remember him? Oh yeah, I did.
Not because he or the sex was memorable but because the guy had full-on begged for a return visit, and loudly. Screaming, in fact. All while I tried to get him out of my trailer, with security finally dragging him away.
It was the guy Van had overheard, the one who’d pleaded for another dicking down.
So now my current boyfriend and one of my former fucks were in the same room. Well, I guess it was bound to happen at some point, given I’d been a randy fuckboy.
I looked over and saw Van scowling at me. He downed his glass of champagne and then turned and got lost in the crowd.
Did Van recognize the guy? It was a long time ago, so I doubted it. And who cared anyway? It was in the past.
Van was my present and my future.
Was he leaving? He wouldn’t leave, would he?
Then again, if one of Van’s former fuck buddies showed up and I was in the room, I’d be less than thrilled.
Okay, I’d make a fucking scene, no doubt. But that’s me.
Van was levelheaded. And he wouldn’t just run off. Not over something that had nothing to do with us.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!”
I blinked and stared at Shawn, and shook my head. I palmed my phone and texted Regan: SOS.
I was done being polite for the evening.
“I have to go,” I stated and then I walked off while Shawn kept screaming my name.
A hush fell over the room, and everyone turned to stare. Christ.
Then I spotted Dawson and Regan moving toward him.
Suddenly, Jojo appeared in front of me. I grabbed his arm and pulled him aside.
“Can you do me a favor? Help Regan get rid of that guy, the psycho one yelling my name,” I motioned over my shoulder.
“Shawn?”
“You know him?”
“I invited him. He’s one of my lesser-known artists. Talented but squirrely as fuck.”
I shook my head. “Well, he and I fucked years ago. He was annoyingly clingy afterward.”
“Go back to my office, around the bar, and to your left. I’ll text you when he’s gone.”
“Thanks, Jo. Sorry about this.”
“No worries. I can’t tell you how many fights I’ve had to break up in this place. Artists’ lives are as dramatic as their creations.”
“Have you seen Van?”
“He went to use the washroom,” Jojo gave me a knowing smirk. “He’s so far gone over you, Dee.”
