“I mean, I was the freak in school who didn’t know any of the popular television characters of the day while my parents were getting shorter, dumber, and less creative. What hypocrites.”
“Anyway,” Kelly broke in, oblivious to the internal pain of missing out on the Gilmore Girls. “Corey Waldon is none other than Bodhi Beckett – boy band cutie.”
“Bodhi? Really? Wait, that’s his butt? I thought he was the good boy of the group?” I asked. It’s not like I didn’t know who those guys were. I was a hairstylist, after all. I spent a lot of time flipping through the latest celebrity magazines while waiting on my clients, and Bodhi and his band mates were always somewhere inside the pages.
“Bodhi’s vanilla for sure,” Mason said. “But if you’re looking for a wholesome, preacher boy, his band mate, Hunter Roy, is the man for you.”
“Wow, Mace, you really know your boy band members.” I nudged him good-naturedly.
“Maybe you forget I’m gay.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“We like boy bands and hot men. But don’t worry. You can have Hunter. Dane’s my guy.”
A particularly catchy tune drew the melody to my lips and Kelly and I sang at the top of our lungs.
“Dammit Breeze, you used to be so cool. What happened to you? Oh yeah,” Mason motioned around the bar, frowning, “this happened to you.”
“I hope I’m not detecting attitude. Because, if I am, maybe you’d like to do a little line-dancing?”
Mason shook his head vigorously.
“Okay then, shut it, because tonight, I hold the power.”
It was a deal we’d brokered years ago. Whoever picked the place also dictated the activities. And Mason was one complaint away from kicking up the dust.
“Bodhi was also in the sitcom Hot and Cold.” Kelly picked up the discussion Mason and I had already dropped. Either she was struggling to keep up or just not listening to us at all.
“Yep.” Mason nodded. “And now his ass is all over the internet. Good for him. Actually, I’m surprised it took him so long to self-destruct. Everyone knows former child stars have a short shelf life.”
One of our favorite songs came on and just singing along was no longer an option. Kelly jumped to her feet again, pulling me with her. This time she wasn’t taking no for an answer. Once we were on the dance floor, I kept an eye on Mason. I was no stranger to his severe mood swings, but something was off with him and no amount of probing would get it out of him.
Mason wasn’t one of those happy, fun gay guys that girls dreamed of having for a bestie. We didn’t fill our days with shopping trips and gossip. Nope, Mason was sarcastic and brooding and, worst of all, he hardly ever threw frivolous praise in my direction.
With Kelly knee-deep in conversation with a forty-year-old Californian man pretending to be from the deep south, I headed back to the table, plopped down onto my stool, and laid my head on Mason’s shoulder.
“You okay there?” I asked.
“I was going to ask you the same question,Victoria.”
I looked him in the eyes. “Who told you?”
“Kelly.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Hugh’s looking pretty frail. I don’t know how many more proposals he has in him.”
“Well, heisa hundred and twelve so …”
“Hey.” I laughed. “That’s my fiancé you’re dissing.”
Mason’s smile melted. “You worry too much about things you have no control over, Breeze.”
Suddenly, I got the feeling we weren’t talking about Hugh anymore.
“What’s going on with you, Mace? Why won’t you tell me?”
He stiffened before taking a shot of whisky.
