First, this surprised me. Shanti Winston didn’t tend to get embarrassed. She was Shanti, you took her as she came, the end.
Then again, Titus was a god among men, and to be turned down by him would remind you eloquently of your mere mortal status, so I understood.
Second, I couldn’t imagine never being able to go back to the man cave.
“I have to put a moratorium on man-cave visits until I’m over it,” she continued.
“How long is that going to last?” I asked.
“At least a whole week.”
I almost laughed, because there was my Shanti.
She kept going.
“He says I’m supposed to be with Liam, or Roam, or Brady. Like I’d ever go there with Brady.”
“Brady’s gorgeous.”
“Every time we go out into the world, Brady either picks someone up, or gets someone’s digits, or simply sits there while napkins and receipts with phone numbers written on them rain down on his head.”
This was fact.
“That doesn’t make him less gorgeous and nice. He’s also funny.”
“Brady’s a white boy.”
“He’s a gorgeous, nice, funny white boy.”
“He’s still a white boy.”
He was that.
Even so…
Brady was Shanti’s bodyguard during the Kev/Trev thing, and they seemed to get tight during it. Not tight tight, but tight.
“So you got nothing when he was your bodyguard?” I asked.
Her face took on a faraway look that gave me hope.
Then she spoke. “Oh, for sure I got some fun Whitney Houston/Kevin Costner-themed fantasies during that time. But fantasy is fantasy, Will. This is real life.”
It certainly was.
However, I was undeterred.
“Okay then, Liam and?—”
I was going to finish…Roam are also gorgeous and nice, but when I mentioned Liam, her eyes slid to the side, and she put her drink back to her lips not to sip, but to hide.
Oh my God.
“Liam?” I whispered.
“He’s not my type,” she said quickly, then actually took a sip.
“What do you mean he’s not your type?” I returned. “He’s totally your type.”
