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“Is this meeting really necessary…in August?” I snap out of nowhere.
All eyes turn to me and Bossman scoffs, “Got somewhere to be, Wes?”
“Yep. Home. It’s been a long day. The team’s struggling, and I need some fucking rest if I’m going to function tomorrow.”
“You’re free to leave,” Bossman says with his arms folded over his chest, like he’s challenging me, like I’m not actually free at all. Too bad I don’t give a shit.
“Thanks, Boss.” I throw him a half wave and hightail it out of there, already pissed about that time I’ll never get back.
Wallet, phone, and keys in hand, I head straight for the parking lot. I need a beer and carbs. Loads of carbs.
When I reach the exit, the guy I saw with Katie the other night is entering with another kid. This one looks to be about ten, and the two of them laugh as they shuffle around me. I grab the door they just came through right as it shuts and hear my name before I get the chance to exit.
“Was that Wes Johnson? Can I talk to him?” the boy asks, obvious awe in his tone.
I keep walking without even listening to the man’s response, something I never do. Is it rude? One hundred percent. But I’m done for the day. And I don’t really want to risk snapping at an innocent young kid if he keeps asking me questions. So, out the door I go, pretending not to hear him.
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do, because not even an hour later, I’m sitting on the sofa with my feet up and a text comes through.
Lucy: What the hell, Wes? That boy you ignored WAS one of your biggest fans
Fuck my life.Of course Lucy knows that guy and his kids. He probably went to Aaron’s staff dinner party. They probably all hang out on weekends. Fuck!
For the rest of the week, I avoid Lucy like the plague. In fact I avoid everyone unless it’s absolutely necessary. So by Saturday night, I have Carter breathing down my neck.
“Open up, dickhead. We’re going out.” He’s pounding on my door and I know he won’t give up until I let him in.
“I’m not in the mood,” I grumble as I open up, standing aside to let him through.
“Well, get in the mood. We’re going to Jaded.”
Ugh! Big night then.
I groan but reluctantly move toward my bedroom to get ready. I could fight it, but I know Carter, and he’ll just drag me there if I try.
When I’m somewhat decent looking, I find him waiting for me in the kitchen, two whiskeys in hand. “Pre-game?”
I’m not a huge drinker—past few weekends aside—but I’m going to need it to get through tonight. I wasn’t joking when I said I wasn’t in the mood.What am I thinking?
“Too late,” Carter says, as if reading my mind. “Drink up and let’s go.”
I knock back the drink in two gulps—bad idea—and then follow Carter to the waiting Uber. I’ll give him two hours, tops, and then I’m done.
Three hours later, I’m still out and I’m not even mad about it. Jaded is owned by a music friend of Gray’s, and it’s a popular hangout for those of us in the public eye, because the guy on the door is under strict instructions to vet the people he lets in. Having said that, it’s one of those establishments you have to know about to actually find. From the street it looks pretty dark and dingy, so they don’t often get walk-ins. But with the candlelight style lighting and deep-red accents, it’s a nice place to relax and get lost in.
Carter’s off flirting with some chick he met five minutes ago, while I’m talking to the bartender who is so freaking lovely.Lovely? What the fuck.Ah well. He is.
“And then she waltzes back into my life like she’s meant to be there anddammit!because she probably is, but I was finally starting to forget about her.”
He wipes the bar top in front of me—where I just spilled my whiskey after half yelling dammit—and smirks. “Did you really start forgetting her, or were you just telling yourself that?”
I huff out a laugh. “The latter for sure. Man, if you saw this woman…” I bite my knuckles with another groan before spinning on my swivel stool. I’ve been doing this every few sips just to check in on Carter, and sure enough, he hasn’t moved. I’d say he’s going to be stuck to this chick all night. As my stool moves slowly back to its starting position, something catches in the corner of my eye and my jaw drops. “Fuck me, am I drunk?”
Pushing off again, I do a second loop, ignoring when my new friend says “yep,” and search the crowd. Sure enough, Lucy’s sitting in a booth with a group of girls, laughing.Laughing.
I twist my head to keep watching her while I continue to turn, only looking back at the bar in the last second.
“That was weird,” the bartender says as he mixes a cocktail for the girl next to me, and I nod, because he’s right.What are the chances?
