“Well, I’m glad you and André had ‘the talk.’” Spencer made air quotes, then picked up his cocktail. “I knew it wouldn’t be anything earth-shattering. He was young, stupid, and let his dick do the thinking. Wouldn’t be the first time that happened. Plus, it’s nice to know he’s human.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He attempted to glare at Spencer, who, of course, remained unconcerned. It was frustrating to deal with a person who didn’t really give a damn if you got angry with him.
“It means your man is always so self-assured and confident. And while it’s fucking hot as hell to be the boss, sometimes you should take charge and be in control.” He studied the array of snacks Dottie had made for them and selected a tiny spinach quiche.
“You’re making quite a few assumptions, you know.” Chess sipped his rosé. “André and I have a very equal, well-balanced relationship. I wouldn’t say either of us is in control.”
“I don’t know. It’s hard for me to believe a man so used to calling the shots in his business life would allow someone else to take charge in his personal affairs. But maybe you’re the dominant one.” His blue eyes gleamed. “I can see it, you know. Still waters run deep. All you quiet ones have a side you never let anyone else see.”
You have no idea.
Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Chess made a show of choosing from the hors d’oeuvres, then popped a tiny blini with caviar into his mouth. “Mmm. These are delicious. I never thought I’d like caviar, but there’s something about salty snacks that makes it impossible to stop eating.”
“I’ll have plenty on hand for your party. Everyone is coming, by the way. André’s mother is flying in the previous night, and his brother and sister are on their way home from wherever they’ve been. Elliot and Wolf said they’d also come the night before, so I figured we’d be able to hang out together for a little while before all the others descend.”
“Thanks for doing this. I really appreciate it; both of us do.”
“It’s my pleasure. You know I love a good party. And I wasn’t kidding earlier. I do have an event to go to tonight, and you’re coming as my plus one.” He slurped his drink. “It’s some reality star fashionista, who, of course, started her own clothing line. I figured we could show up, make nice, have some champagne, then leave and see what else is happening in the nightlife scene.”
“I don’t know…” He hadn’t been into the party scene as an adult. Those days were left behind when he walked away from the old Chester.
“But I do. You’re not there to meet anyone. Just drink, have some fun, and dance with me. You can be my wingman.”
Amused, he considered Spencer’s words. It wouldn’t be a big deal. He might as well do something other than sitting at home, waiting for André to call.
“That could prove interesting. It’s been years since I’ve seen you in action.”
“Sweetheart.” Spencer finished his margarita and patted his cheek. “I’m always in action. Now let’s get our tan on so we’ll have a natural glow for the evening.” He sprang to his feet. “I’m planning on no tan lines. They totally ruin the aesthetic.”
Chess laughed and rose from his seat. “It must be fun inside your head.”
Spencer slung an arm around his neck. “Which one?”
“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
Laughing, they walked out to the pool.
***
“Wow. This is something else. And I thought André’s place was incredible,” Chess said, taking in the vast estate of some television producer. Strategically placed floodlights highlighted the white tents dotting the lawn, and a DJ booth sat in the corner, with multicolored lights swirling behind it. Hundreds of people milled about, and Chess caught sight of silver chafing dishes covering long banquet tables. The dance floor was crowded with masses of tanned, glitzy people.
He couldn’t imagine all the money it took to keep these properties in such spectacular condition, and he closed his eyes briefly, overcome by memories of the past and his destitution and solitude.
“Out here, it’sde rigueurfor events like this. They love a scene, the bigger the better.”
Maybe that was another reason why André shunned it. He was intensely private, and the two of them far preferred staying at home or within their close circle of friends and family than attending the endless stream of events he was invited to. Unless it was a charity function, they rarely attended.
It had been years since he’d been to one of these parties with Spencer, and as he watched him move between the groups of people, it wasn’t all fun and games for his friend. Everyone in the business was dressed in the height of expensive, elegant casualness, and though they smiled and air-kissed each other, Chess had studied enough body language to see that most of it was forced. These people didn’t much like each other, and it hurt him to see Spencer walk away from a crowd of young people and catch them rolling their eyes and laughing.
“Ungrateful little bastards. You’d be lucky to know as much as he does,” he muttered into his Kir Royale, downed it, and placed the empty flute on a table. A waiter with a flop of shiny dark hair over one eye appeared with a full tray of refills.
“Have another?” He extended the tray, and when Chess hesitated, he gave him a full-blown smile. “Go ahead. It’s the only way to make it through these events. I’ve worked enough to know.”
“Thanks. I’m beginning to think you’re right.”
“I know I am. Is that your boyfriend? The blond guy with the guest of honor?” He tipped his head toward the step-and-repeat where Spencer now stood with his arm around the waist of the reality TV star and posed for pictures.
“No. He’s my best friend. I’m just along for the ride.”
