I prepared myself for an avalanche of curses or a storming off.
Laurel glared at Monty, his eyes flashing. When he was mad, he looked sexier, if that was possible. What he said next was unexpected.
“You’re right. You’re fucking right, you asshole.”
I eyed them both.
Monty didn’t look happy about the acknowledgment. If anything, he seemed sadder.
Shaking his head, Laurel heaved a mighty sigh and threw back the rest of his rum. “I’m my own problem.”
If Monty wanted to get Laurel Riley into his bed, he had a really weird way of going about it. Even after insulting him, he kept gazing at Laurel beseechingly.
“But I think people should try harder to get to know you. Because you have a beautiful soul. One just has to listen to the lyrics you write.”
Aha! And there it was. The way Monty made everybody love him.
Laurel frowned. “It was the least successful album I made. My producer doesn’t want me to write my own lyrics anymore.”
“That’s bullshit. Every single song on there is amazing. I know all of them by heart.”
“Nice save, Montgomery,” Laurel said, and lifted his eyes toward me. “It would be a really bad idea to have another glass of that nice rum, huh?”
“Weren’t you a little hungover this morning?” I asked. Apparently, Monty wasn’t the only one who didn’t know when to shut up.
“I just want to sleep, man.”
I covered his glass with my palm. “There are better ways. If anything, getting drunk will fuck up your sleep more.”
“I know. But what better ways? It’s not like I can ask you two to fuck me into oblivion.”
Silence.
Laurel seemed shocked by his own words, but he didn’t take them back. He sat frozen, like us.
He just threw a bomb on the floor, and it didn’t explode. And we were all dumbstruck, waiting for it to go off.
I met Monty’s eyes, and he gazed back, bewildered but oh-so hopeful.
So I decided to give him a break.
I walked around the bar and stopped by Laurel’s barstool, just a tad too close for polite company. Slowly, he turned to face me, and I quirked an eyebrow.
“No fucking. But we can make you come a few times if that helps?”
11
MONTY
I talked a lot, and sometimes I managed to say something reasonable, among many near misses. Jordy was quiet most of the time, but when he did say something, it was always the right thing at the right moment.
He was a genius, and I wanted to fucking kiss his feet.
Laurel licked his lips, and heat replaced the sadness in his eyes as he scanned Jordy’s face. He slid off the stool and lifted his chin, his expression a mix of challenge and expectation.
It was game on.
“That’s a generous offer,” he drawled. “What’s in it for you?”
