“Always,” he says with a smile. “It’s Friday. Game day. The Lakers are playing, and since you are the only rich man in the state of California that doesn’t like sitting courtside, I’m dragging your ass to the bar and we are going to get drunk; maybe laid, if we are lucky. And I don’t know about you, but I am feeling pretty lucky.”
“I can’t get drunk,” I tell him. “I have a rematch tomorrow night with Abram. And this time I will not get distracted.”
“You just got off the phone with your dad,” he says. “Which means you’ve already been drinking.”
“How do you know that?” I ask.
“The maid told me,” he grins.
Observantandnosy.
“I’ve already had enough,” I say.
“So watch me get drunk then. I’ll even let you pay. Now let’s bounce.”
There is no use arguing with Andrew. He is very persistent and very annoying when he’s persistent. We hop in my car and headto The Score, a high-end sports bar in Beverly Hills. It’s too crowded for the mood I’m in, but the food is good and most people are watching the game so no one bothers us.
“So how are things with the old man?” he asks, dragging a chip through the artichoke dip he ordered. “Any movement on the inheritance issue?”
I shake my head as I take a sip of the beer I ordered. Fuck it, I’ll just go for a run tomorrow and sweat it out.
“He’s still hell-bent on this whole marriage thing. It’s crazy.”
“Honestly, I feel like it’s kind of an easy fix,” he says, and my eyes bolt up to his.
“How do you figure exactly?”
“Most people have to wait for their parents to croak to get their money,” he says, unaware that his statement was a good knife twist to my chest. My dad is alive and well, but my mom passed when I was a kid. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about her. “All you have to do is saddle up and settle down.”
“I’m not even actively dating,” I point out. “That makes it a little hard to fall in love in the near future.”
“I’m not saying fall in love,” he says. “Just find a chick you tolerate enough to get the money. I doubt anyone you ask will say no to you.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” I say, taking another sip.
“Suit yourself. Who knows, maybe Rafe will lose interest in the Golden Rule partnership. Running security for a Wall Street level investment company is no small gig. Of course, he could be determined, and he could embezzle all the money you haveinvested in the company—money that you can’t access until you’re sixty-five.
“You’re such an encouraging friend,” I say sarcastically, but Andrew just chuckles.
“Sorry. Fine. We won’t talk about that anymore.”
“Thank you,” I say, digging into the ahi steak I ordered.
“Let’s talk about you getting laid, though,” he goes on.
“Or we could not talk at all and enjoy our dinner in quiet,” I suggest. Meanwhile, the Lakers score, and the room erupts, negating the point of my suggestion.
“All I’m saying is you are under a metric fuck ton of stress, Dom. It wouldn’t kill you to get your rocks off once in a while,” he says.
“Is that an actual unit of measurement?” I ask, avoiding the subject of the conversation.
“When’s the last time you got laid?” he asks.
“Recently,” I answer.
“Recently enough that you aren’t in a dry spell?” he presses, and I think about that. I don’t know how to answer that. I’m not in a dry spell, that’s for sure. And it’s not because I’ve gotten laid since I was with the girl from the Cockpit.
But the memory of her face when I hit the ropes, the fear in her eyes when Rafe grabbed her, and the way her jaw unhinged when she came all over my dick…well. I think it’s safe to say I’ve had blue balls ever since. Problematically, she was gone before I could even ask her name. I have no idea who she is, and I can’t stop thinking about her, waitress or not.
