***
Lydia had been in his bed for only one night, but somehow in the days following her departure, Damian felt something missing every time he turned around. He’d tried everything he could to get into her office, but the woman was stubborn as hell, and he’d been denied at every turn. Every favor he still had hanging out there among his business contacts was called in, but she always managed to escape his grasp.
If only she would talk to him, he knew he could make her see reason. Convince her that while Brant was an idiot and Damian was now seriously reconsidering their friendship, the email was nothing more than male bravado and poor jokes.
“Dude, you look like shit.” Trent walked into the restaurant, his four-month-old daughter strapped to his chest in a carrier that looked complicated enough that Damian wasn’t sure he’d be able to hook the thing up if he were to trade spots with his best friend.
“Yeah, well, at least I’m not stalking the woman and crashing her dates like you did when you thought Francie might be getting away.”
Trent laughed, kissing his baby on her bald head. “Don’t knock it. I ended up with the girl, didn’t I?”
True. The rest of the guys filed into their usual meeting spot for their quarterly get-togethers. They worked together on different projects off and on throughout the year, but they had begun these scheduled dinners years ago when their lives began taking them in different directions. Hardy had moved west after the five men disbanded their first startup company and now owned his own special effects studio in Burbank. Smith got out of the tech game altogether and sunk his millions into starting up an NFL team in his hometown of Omaha, Nebraska. Brant, like Trent, stayed in Pittsburgh. He’d created a wildly popular dating app and was still riding the millions from that venture.
Despite their busy lives and their millions sitting in bank accounts, they never wanted to forget that at one point they had been five scholarship kids who lived on the same floor at Princeton University. They never fit in at the prestigious school and banded together to make their way through. It was Trent’s idea to revolutionize the software used in 911 call centers, but they all did their part in making the program work and selling it across the country. Now Trent was the sole owner of FiveStar Emergency Communications, but even he had given up much of the control to his employees, preferring to be home with his new wife and child. He’d been the first to settle down and insisted the rest wouldn’t be far behind. At the time, they all laughed, but Damian knew better. Now, four times a year they made a point to get together in Pittsburgh, where they had based their company.
“Razor, my man, got any good stories for us today?” Brant slapped Damian on the back, guffawing at his own lame joke. At one point Damian had been all too happy to regale the guys with tales of his wild sexcapades. But it had long ago got old, to everyone but Brant.
“I told you, asshole, I’m done with Razor. I’m shedding the whole persona, strictly going by Damian now.” The nickname had been given to him in college because he preferred the little scooters as his means of transportation around school. His class schedule was so jam-packed he needed the wheels to make classes on time, and they were light and compact. His friends ribbed him for the damn scooter all the time, but he welcomed the name. Flipped it on its head and made it his own. He’d created a whole persona around that damn nickname. Became a sexually adventurous asshole who lived life on the edge. But he was no longer that man. Hadn’t been for a very long time.
Brant took a sip of his beer and leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes at Damian. “I call bullshit. You meet one woman and you’re, what, going to give up all the free pussy you get at that club? I give it a month tops.”
“Dude, watch the language. Little lady present.” Hardy glared across at Brant, then leaned over to pinch his goddaughter’s cheeks where they peeked out from the carrier.
“Trent, where the hell is your wife? Isn’t she supposed to be the one taking care of the baby?” Brant looked at the child with suspicion.
Smith, the one sitting closest to Brant, reached over and smacked him upside the head. “Can you be more of an asshole?”
“And to answer your question, our sweet princess here has been teething for what seems like three months straight.” Trent kissed her bald little head again, and baby Celeste looked at him as if he was the best thing since boobs and milk. “Francie hasn’t gotten much sleep lately, so she is spending the day at the spa getting massaged and sleeping as much as she wants while I keep the baby.”
Damian very well knew that Brant talked a good game, but it was mostly bullshit. He’d had his heart epically broken early in their college days, and it changed him from a sweet guy to a hard-hearted jerk. They all put up with it because they knew who he really was underneath it all and because he was a loyal friend who would do anything for any of the four other men. But lately, Damian wondered whether he hadn’t changed beyond repair.
“Actually, I haven’t frequented the club in months. Long before I met Lydia. But yes, I am willing to give up all that and more for this one woman. Or at least I was. Before she saw that goddamn email you sent and jumped to conclusions. Now I can’t even get a meeting with her.” The situation chafed at his soul. He missed Lydia, despite their short time together. “So, I’m hoping you guys will help me come up with a plan to get to her.”
“Seriously, our one time just hanging out together in months, and one of you douchebags wants to talk romantic gestures, and the other is wearing a baby like a necklace. What the hell has happened to you guys?” Brant guzzled the rest of his beer and stood up from the table before anyone could respond. “I’m out of here. Call me when you guys all find your balls again.”
The four remaining friends looked at one another in shock. Brant had always been a little crude and lacking a filter, and he had been hardened since his one true love broke his heart years before. But he had never bailed on a friend in need before. Hell, he helped Trent find Francie all those years ago.
“I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Find out what’s going on.” Smith signaled the waitress for another round of drinks and nodded toward Damian. “For now, let’s get your girl back.”
