“Hey! Where’s Steve Trevor?” she asked.
He cleared his throat. “Sorry. You look divine,” he said in his English accent.
“Thank you,” she said. “You don’t look bad yourself.”
He passed her a drink that sat on the bar and handed a bottle of water to Ruth.
“Thanks,” Ruth said, grabbing the bottle. “I’m going to find Reba.”
“Reba’s her new bestie,” Jamie told him.
Clayton laughed and pointed to her beverage. “It’s Ketel One and soda.”
“How did you . . . ?”
He slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket, revealing a discreet flask tucked into his pocket. “I sent Lisa on a covert mission,” he explained.
She laughed. “Lisa came over to steal my vodka?”
He nodded. “Guess who’s here?”
Her face went numb at the thought of AJ. Clayton gestured to the far corner of the room. “Shorty’s over there talking to Doofus.”
Whew!
“Doofus,” she repeated, holding her chest. “Jesus, you scared me. Is that why you’re standing over here?”
“No, I’m standing here because it takes a goddamned hour to get a drink around here.”
“Shit.” She looked at Clayton. “I think we’ve been spotted.”
Shorty and Doofus were making their way to the bar. Since neither of them drank, she assumed they were coming over to strike up a conversation with either her or Clayton.
“Hi, Jamie,” Doofus said, shaking her hand. There he stood, same navy suit, same crew cut, same mustache.
“Hi”—she stopped herself from saying Doofus—“Mike.”
Clayton tipped his hat. “Howdy, Mike.” She was hoping he’d use his Steve Trevor voice, but no such luck.
“You look nice,” Shorty said, lightly tapping his water bottle against her glass. The familiar clink of a non-alcoholic drink always unsettled her. “Mike and I were just talking about your record,” he continued.
“Oh?” Jamie couldn’t wait to hear what was coming next.
“The album artwork . . .” Doofus paused. “I don’t like it.”
“The artwork is the artist’s decision,” Clayton interjected. “It’s in our contracts.”
“Have you seen the artwork?” Doofus asked him.
“As a matter of fact, I have,” he lied. “And I love it.”
“I don’t know much about art.” Doofus waved his finger. “But I do know you two should write another song together.”
Jamie and Clayton looked at each other, confused.
“The last song I turned in for my record was a co-write with Clayton.”
“What? Arthur didn’t tell me.” His face turned crimson. “I’ll have to give it another listen.”
