Zack’s laugh boomed through the car and vibrated the windows.
I lifted my head from the glass. My lips lifted at his smile, which wasn’t blocky or square at all. For a second, he wasn’t the quarterback. He was just a guy, a nice one with a contagious laugh.
9
Chew On It
My thighs chafed as I laid on my side to face the former quarterback. “So, what do you do besides throw people out of bars?”
Zack rolled his eyes. “I play in a band.”
Great. Another musician. At least he wasn’t a deejay.
“Wait. Is it the same one from high school? The one you did that show with?” Not the brass band. He was too busy during football season to play instruments at other people’s games. There was a ‘soundstage’ exhibition once a year. A bunch of scruffy guys played cover songs with a rare original work thrown in. He’d been in the show, bent over his guitar, rocking back and forth as sweat dripped down the base of his neck. Powerful. Passionate. Of course the crowd cheered for him.
He gave me a funny look. “You remember that?”
“I was around,” I said. Sure, it wasn’t mandatory attendance, but it was fun to hang out in the audience and dance in the dark, pretending I was at a real concert.
He adjusted his seat back an inch. “So, were you a big fan?”
“No. I was just there.” I knotted my arms tighter together. Naturally, his ego would assume I was obsessed with him.
He flexed his hand. “Well, some of the guys are the same. One moved for college.”
“And you stayed here for it? Or you came back after graduation?”
He didn’t have social media back then, and I wasn’t friends with his friends, so I never saw any updates.
“Something like that.” He scratched his ear. “What about you?”
I settled myself against the seat. “I got a degree in business marketing at the local college, and my condo was a steal, so I moved in right after graduation.”
“On a Fancee’s salary?”
I suppressed the urge to lean over the console and say, “I’m a model, bitch.” That wouldn’t vibe with Zack. He was being nice, and I had to be cool with him. I looked out the window and evened my voice. “I actually do some modeling.”
He casually switched to the ten-and-two position. “Oh, cool. Anything I’d know?”
“Shoes, mostly."
He wouldn’t know the brand names, even if they’d hired me.
“That is your department,” he said. “Is that a coincidence, or…?”
“I made connections. I also did some skincare and beauty shots. Social apps.” Or close enough to that. My portfolio work kinda counted, didn’t it? Even if I had to pay for the photographs or do them myself, I was promoting my own brand. It was an investment.
He bobbed his head to the music. “Sounds good. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” I fiddled with the zipper. It was pretty neat. A dream. Too bad the only person who’d encouraged my career was using me. Well, using Bigfoot, at least.
Zack scratched the back of his neck. “How is working at Fancee’s? Do they offer decent pay, comparatively?”
I had just told him I was a model, and he was more interested in my department store gig? “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m mostly there for the discount. Plus, they offer part-time benefits.”
“That’s great.” His throat bobbed when his gaze flicked to the fast-food sign.
Was he hungry?
