that night that I don’t even want to contemplate. Because ever since, Steven Reinhart would happily take a bullet to the chest for Kate Brooks.
“It’s the boobs,” I tell her. “If I had a set like yours, they’d like me better too.”
A few weeks ago, that comment would have pissed her off. Now she just shakes her head and laughs.
The night before Thanksgiving is officially the biggest bar night of the year. Everyone goes out. Everyone is looking for a good time. Usually, Matthew, Jack, and I start the night at my father’s day-before-Thanksgiving office party and work our way out to the clubs afterward. It’s tradition.
So you can imagine my surprise when I enter the large conference room and see Matthew’s arm around the woman who I can only assume is his date for the evening—Delores Warren. Since he met her two and a half weeks ago, Matthew’s been MIA on the weekends, and I’m starting to suspect why. I’ll have to talk to him tomorrow.
Beside them are my father and Kate.
And for the second time in my life, Kate Brooks leaves me breathless. She’s wearing a deep burgundy dress that hugs her in all the right places and strappy heeled shoes that send my imagination spinning into X-rated territory. Her hair falls around her shoulders in soft shining waves. My hand twitches to touch it as I walk toward her.
Then someone in the middle of the room moves—and I see that she’s not alone.
Fuck me.
Everyone brings their significant others to these kinds of things. I shouldn’t be surprised that the dickwad is here. He pulls at the tie of his suit like a frigging ten-year-old, obviously uncomfortable in it. Pussy.
I button the jacket of my own perfectly tailored Armani and make my way over.
“Drew!” my father greets me. Though things between him and me had been tense for a few days, they’d quickly gone back to normal. He never can stay pissed at me for long.
Look at this face. Could you?
“I was just telling Mr. Warren,” he says, “about that deal Kate closed last week. How lucky we are to have her.”
Have her? The word lucky doesn’t even come close.
“It’s all an act,” Delores teases. “Beneath her corporate suit and that good-girl persona beats the heart of a true rebel. I could tell you stories about Katie that would put hair on your eyeballs.”
Kate turns stern eyes on her friend. “Thank you, Dee. Please don’t .”
Cum Stain smiles, puts his arm around Kate’s waist, and rests his lips on the top of her head.
I need a drink. Or a punching bag. Now.
Words fly out of my mouth like well-aimed bullets: “That’s right. You were quite the little delinquent back in the day, weren’t you Kate? Dad, did you know she used to sing in a band? That’s how you supported yourself through business school, right? Guess it beats pole dancing.”
She chokes on her drink. Gentleman that I am, I hand her a napkin.
“And Billy here, that’s what he still does. You’re a musician, right?”
He looks at me like I’m a pile of dog crap that he just stepped in. “That’s right.”
“So, tell us Billy, are you like a Bret Michaels kind of rocker? Or more of a Vanilla Ice?” See how his jaw clenches? How his eyes narrow? Bring it, Monkey Boy. Please .
“Neither.”
“Why don’t you grab your accordion, or whatever you play, and pop up on stage? There’s a lot of money floating around this room. Maybe you could book a wedding. Or a bar mitzvah.”
Almost there.
“I don’t play those types of venues.”
This should do it.
“Wow. In this economy, I didn’t think the poor and jobless could be so picky.”
“Listen, you piece of—”
“Billy, honey, could you get me another drink from the bar? I’m almost done with this one.” Kate pulls on his arm, cutting off what I’m sure would have been a brilliant retort.
Are you feeling the sarcasm?
And then she turns toward me, and she doesn’t sound nearly as friendly. “Drew, I just remembered I have some
“It’s the boobs,” I tell her. “If I had a set like yours, they’d like me better too.”
A few weeks ago, that comment would have pissed her off. Now she just shakes her head and laughs.
The night before Thanksgiving is officially the biggest bar night of the year. Everyone goes out. Everyone is looking for a good time. Usually, Matthew, Jack, and I start the night at my father’s day-before-Thanksgiving office party and work our way out to the clubs afterward. It’s tradition.
So you can imagine my surprise when I enter the large conference room and see Matthew’s arm around the woman who I can only assume is his date for the evening—Delores Warren. Since he met her two and a half weeks ago, Matthew’s been MIA on the weekends, and I’m starting to suspect why. I’ll have to talk to him tomorrow.
Beside them are my father and Kate.
And for the second time in my life, Kate Brooks leaves me breathless. She’s wearing a deep burgundy dress that hugs her in all the right places and strappy heeled shoes that send my imagination spinning into X-rated territory. Her hair falls around her shoulders in soft shining waves. My hand twitches to touch it as I walk toward her.
Then someone in the middle of the room moves—and I see that she’s not alone.
Fuck me.
Everyone brings their significant others to these kinds of things. I shouldn’t be surprised that the dickwad is here. He pulls at the tie of his suit like a frigging ten-year-old, obviously uncomfortable in it. Pussy.
I button the jacket of my own perfectly tailored Armani and make my way over.
“Drew!” my father greets me. Though things between him and me had been tense for a few days, they’d quickly gone back to normal. He never can stay pissed at me for long.
Look at this face. Could you?
“I was just telling Mr. Warren,” he says, “about that deal Kate closed last week. How lucky we are to have her.”
Have her? The word lucky doesn’t even come close.
“It’s all an act,” Delores teases. “Beneath her corporate suit and that good-girl persona beats the heart of a true rebel. I could tell you stories about Katie that would put hair on your eyeballs.”
Kate turns stern eyes on her friend. “Thank you, Dee. Please don’t .”
Cum Stain smiles, puts his arm around Kate’s waist, and rests his lips on the top of her head.
I need a drink. Or a punching bag. Now.
Words fly out of my mouth like well-aimed bullets: “That’s right. You were quite the little delinquent back in the day, weren’t you Kate? Dad, did you know she used to sing in a band? That’s how you supported yourself through business school, right? Guess it beats pole dancing.”
She chokes on her drink. Gentleman that I am, I hand her a napkin.
“And Billy here, that’s what he still does. You’re a musician, right?”
He looks at me like I’m a pile of dog crap that he just stepped in. “That’s right.”
“So, tell us Billy, are you like a Bret Michaels kind of rocker? Or more of a Vanilla Ice?” See how his jaw clenches? How his eyes narrow? Bring it, Monkey Boy. Please .
“Neither.”
“Why don’t you grab your accordion, or whatever you play, and pop up on stage? There’s a lot of money floating around this room. Maybe you could book a wedding. Or a bar mitzvah.”
Almost there.
“I don’t play those types of venues.”
This should do it.
“Wow. In this economy, I didn’t think the poor and jobless could be so picky.”
“Listen, you piece of—”
“Billy, honey, could you get me another drink from the bar? I’m almost done with this one.” Kate pulls on his arm, cutting off what I’m sure would have been a brilliant retort.
Are you feeling the sarcasm?
And then she turns toward me, and she doesn’t sound nearly as friendly. “Drew, I just remembered I have some
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