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Ghost nodded. “Tell Vector you don’t want any interference. You’ll handle any fans unless there’s an absolute safety issue. They know how to be discreet. If you don’t want to tell the girl you’re in a hugely popular rock band, she doesn’t have to know.”
I shifted back and forth on my feet. Was I even considering this? “I don’t know, mate. Wouldn’t it be kind of weird just showing up? I don’t even know her name.”
His eyes danced with mischief. “You were invited. Just go and do a little ball-busting yourself. Make her beg for your cock.” He laughed. “It sounds like fun. I wish I could be a fly in your soup and watch how it all goes down.”
I hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Give me your phone. I want to see what the mom texted.”
I slid my phone across the kitchen island to him. Big mistake. He started typing in a reply.
“Fuck. What are you doing? Give that back to me.”
His smirk deepened while he ignored me and continued to respond to the text.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
Finally, Ghost tossed my phone back to me. “You’re welcome.”
I looked down at the text he’d made on my behalf.
Me:I would love that, Lara! My rash is much better now. Send me the time and place and I’ll be there. Don’t tell my girl I’m coming. I want to surprise her!
“Fuck. Did you have to use exclamation marks?” I grumbled.
My phone binged with a new text.
Unknown:Perfect!!! Thank you so much! 7 p.m. at The Rusty Anchor.
I groaned and turned off my phone without replying. “I’m not going.”
Ghost just laughed.
Chapter 4
Summer
WhydidIanswerthe phone?
Lindsay, a friend that attended the same private high school in Kentucky that I’d graduated from, was droning on endlessly. She’d just gotten engaged. Ugh. Cheers to another expensive bridesmaid’s dress hanging in my closet that, no, I’ll never have altered to wear again. I successfully faked the appropriate level of enthusiasm for the future nuptials, but then started tuning out when the discussion turned to upcoming bridal party Zoom meetings, my responsibility to post comments on the Lindsay & Grant Forever wedding website, the bridal party diet pact, and of course, hints as to where she wanted the bachelorette party weekend to take place.
Even my mom was getting bored with the conversation that was broadcast throughout my apartment on speakerphone. My apartment was small, so she couldn’t help but listen while my dad sat in front of the TV watching sports.
A few muttered replies were all I needed to uphold my end of the conversation while I looked around the small space I’d made a home, seeing it through my mother’s eyes.
I lived on the third floor of a walk-up apartment building in a cramped one-bedroom unit. It was hard to disguise the shabbiness of the place even though I’d attempted to make it more pleasant and homier over the past year I’d lived here. The appliances were old and worn, the floors scratched and scarred, and the walls in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint. The bathroom, however, was the most disturbing. No matter how much I scrubbed, it never looked clean. Mustard-colored ceramic tile with brownish-gray grout, that at one time must have been white, covered the walls and reddish-brown splotches stained the chipped porcelain sink and the tub. The inside of the toilet bowl was a permanent disaster no amount of elbow grease could fix.
I missed my cute apartment in Kentucky. It was much newer, twice as big, and had a light and airy feel to it, but I’d never be able to afford anything close to that in Los Angeles. When my one-year lease renewal approached, I’d searched long and hard for someplace better that was still in my budget. I finally realized it wasn’t going to happen, so I begrudgingly renewed my lease.
My eyes crossed when Lindsay began listing out and gushing over what items she’d registered for as wedding gifts. My mother was no longer paying the conversation any attention. She had a gigantic smile on her face as she texted back and forth with someone on her phone — at least one of us was in a good mood. Maybe dinner out with my parents would cheer me up.
I missed my mom. We were always very close as I grew up. I told her everything. Even after college, when I moved into my own apartment in Kentucky, we remained close. Then last year, from her perspective, I suddenly quit my job and moved halfway across the country with no explanation.
I’d made an epic mistake and instead of dealing with the consequences like an adult, I ran. Since my love life consisted of one disaster after another, I couldn’t admit my latest blunder. I needed a fresh start where nobody knew me. And a new job where I didn’t know what my boss’s dick looked like.
I hadn’t been having any luck finding a new job locally, so when the recruiter called with a promising job opening in L.A., I interviewed on a whim. A few weeks later, I was moving away from Kentucky, escaping the humiliation of another bad mistake.
A male voice in the background interrupted Lindsay as she described the china pattern she’d chosen. “Ooh. Summer, I’ve got to run. Grant just got home.”
