CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jacine
They took me to Rory’s house, which was the closest one to the Hollywood Bowl. It was a boxy mid-century modern, heavy on landscaping, glass and vaulted ceilings. It was laid back, just like him, and the furniture looked like it was thrown together rather than decorated.
We walked through the darkened house and he flipped the switch to a more modern area outside. This part of the house was more sculpted, with bluestone pavers extending to the edge of the backyard, and a sunken wood deck hanging off the end of the incline. I held onto the wall at the top of the stairs that held a mini waterfall and a statue of Buddha and looked down. The whole effect was one of being suspended in mid-air and it made me feel dizzy.
“You sure this thing is safe?” said Cole with a grin.
“You’ve sat here enough,” said Rory.
“It’s safe,” said Tobias who led the way down the short flight of steps. “Until the rains come.” He flashed a teasing smile at Rory. He must have had this conversation before. But then he did say he’d been “visiting” the guys on a regular basis.
Rory held out his hand as if checking for rain.
“I think it’s safe enough,” he said sagely. “The pylons under and the steel pounded into the rock hold it in place.” He glanced at me letting me know this information was for my digestion. “The whole hill would have to break apart for this thing to tumble.”
“You aren’t a big believer in the power of earthquakes, are you?” I said.
He leaned over and whispered in my ear.
“Baby, I have other ways to make the earth move.”
I rolled my eyes.
He moved to the center of the deck and pulled up a wood section to reveal a hot tub underneath. The water bubbled and the scent of lavender filled the space.
“Wow,” I said.
“You know what would be relaxing,” said Cole. “Some liquor.”
“Got that covered,” he said. Under the seats that lined the wall against the rock wall, he pulled out a bucket of ice and champagne.
“To celebrate our successful concert.”
“That’s a lot classier than Dys’ usual drink,” said Tobias.
“Don’t diss my fire water, Mr. Attorney.”
“This is for celebrating,” Rory said as he pulled out a batch of plastic champagne flutes and handed them to me. I pulled them apart and handed one to each.
“Yeah, that’s classy,” snorted Cole as he took his.
“Classier than pulling glass out of your ass when a flute breaks,” said Rory.
He popped the cork with his massive hands and poured the bubbly into our plastic glasses.
“To friends,” he said solemnly.
We clinked the plastic together and drank. It had been a long time since I had champagne, and the bubbles tickled the back of my throat and my nose.
“And,” said Cole, “to the most beautiful and smartest woman on either coast.”
“To Jacine,” said Jersey.
“Okay, this is all great,” I said. “But you said you had a solution. So what is it? Do I spin the champagne bottle when it’s empty to see where it lands.”
Rory’s face scrunched in confusion. “No. That wasn’t the idea. But let’s get comfortable.”
