“Speaking of secrets, I talked to Zander.”
I decide not to remind him that he promised to keep this a secret and let him go on. As long as Pres doesn’t find out what we’re planning. “And?”
“He gave me a recommendation.”
“Are you going to give it to me?”
“Depends,” he answers.
I tilt my head. “On?”
“I’m curious, and don’t take this the wrong way, but how exactly can you afford something like this? I know Pres said you do something in entertainment? Are you a famous juggler? Stuntman?
“Juggler?” I snort out a laugh. “That’s all you could come up with? Why couldn’t I be a comedian or a social media influencer?”
He gives me a lackluster stare, and I laugh. “Social media influencer, Hollis? Seriously?”
I laugh. “Yeah, okay. Bit of a stretch. Wrong kind of entertainment too. I run a nightclub.”
“You? Really?”
I chuckle. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
“I literally had to drag you to parties in high school. I thought you were allergic to fun, Hollis.”
“I wasn’t allergic to fun,” I argue, remembering my nights on the beach with Presley. “I was just allergic to that kind of fun.”
A server comes by and offers us champagne. He takes a glass. I decline. “So you make that kind of cash running a single nightclub?”
“No. My partner and I own several other businesses as well.” I hesitate, feeling nervous. He notices and meets my gaze. “I own Velvet, Hen.”
It takes him a moment to connect the dots, and then his eyes widen. “The swanky club the band went to in Nashville?”
I nod.
“So you knew we were there?”
Another nod.
“And you didn’t think to drop in and say hello to your former best friend?” His expression is pained. “I died a little that day you left, Hollis. We all did. Pres walked around like a ghost for weeks. My dad tried everything to find you.”
I look away, too overwhelmed to speak. But then I feel the warmth of a familiar hand slip into mine. “Let it go, Hen,” Pres tells him, coming to my side. “He wasn’t ready to confront you that night at Velvet, and you guilt-shaming him for it isn’t going to help.”
“I wasn’t—” Hen tries to argue.
“You were,” Pres stands firm. “You may not have done it intentionally, but the result was the same. All that matters is that Hollis is here now, where he belongs—with us. And when he’s ready, I’m sure he’ll be happy to sit down and talk with you about everything.”
Both Hen and I stand there sort of stunned.
“You’re right,” Hen agrees, then shakes his head, eyes crinkling with amusement. “You two really are crazy about each other, aren’t you?”
“Yup,” Pres answers. “Now go check on your girlfriend. I left her with Darius, and I’m pretty sure he’s hitting on her.”
His eyes jerk up. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. He promised me he’d stop that!”
He stalks off to go after his bandmate, and I turn to her. “That was?—”
“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I was just coming over to see if you wanted a drink and?—”
