Lyric crosses his arms and narrows his eyes as he stares at his friend. Toby lifts his chin and meets Lyric’s stare. It’s like watching a standoff between two cowboys. Only I’m waiting for one of them to blink rather than draw a gun and shoot the other.
“I’m not bored of either of you.”
They look away at the same time, laughing from their bellies. Lyric squeezes Toby’s shoulder.
I nod to their glasses. “Top up?”
Lyric lifts his glass and swirls the remnants of the amber liquid and half-melted ice around. “I’ll have another whiskey, please.” He downs what’s left and slams the tumbler on the bar.
“What is it that you do?” I ask them as I put ice into a new tumbler.
The bar has a policy of always giving customers a fresh glass. Normally that’s fine, but with the dishwasher out of action, it could get problematic. I hope Callan can fix it when he gets here.
“I’m a filmmaker,” Toby replies.
I widen my eyes. “Really? Would I have seen anything you’ve made?”
Lyric smirks and releases a silent chuckle.
“That depends.” Toby leans closer and lowers his voice. “Do you watch gay porn?”
Heat flushes my cheeks. “Sometimes.”
“Then you might have.”
I rub the back of my neck and shift my attention to Lyric. “What about you?”
He nods to Toby. “I’m his main star.”
My mouth forms ano.
“I’m always looking for new co-stars if you’re interested in a change of career.”
My jaw drops. It’s far too hot in the bar. I tug at my collar. “You’re looking at the wrong man. I’m not—” I shake my head. “I’m too private for that.”
“That’s a shame.”
I remember I’m supposed to be making him a drink. I pour a shot of whiskey over the ice, ring his order up on the till, and pass him the tumbler.
Lyric slides a business card across the bar. “In case you change your mind.”
I don’t pick it up. Even if I weren’t happy working behind a bar, I wouldn’t have the confidence to be on film with or without my clothes on.
“He’s not interested.” Toby picks up the business card and slips it into Lyric’s back pocket, then pats Lyric’s arse.
Another customer diverts my attention away from them. The bar is starting to fill up. We need Callan to arrive to fix the dishwasher now more than ever.
Lyric and Toby are the only customers sitting at the bar, so I find myself gravitating towards them when there’s a pause in drink requests.
“What do you do when you’re not working here?” Lyric asks.
“Well, I’m not a porn star on the side.” I wince as I’m sure my attempt at a joke failed to land.
Toby sniggers. “Can I have a porn star martini, please?”
Lyric gives him a raised-eyebrow look.
“What? It seemed apt.”
