“See?” Paul said, finally letting me go. “Freak.”
Yeah, fine. My moonwalking phasewasembarrassing. But at least I grew out of it and wasn’t snorting away the few brain cells I had left.
A tall brunette in barely-there clothes hooked Paul’s arm. “Baby, you’re amazing.”
He slapped her ass, pulled her in for a long, sloppy kiss. Michelle actually glanced at her watch and then back at me like I was personally responsible for wasting her time.
Paul surfaced. “Scotty, meet Marina.”
We said our hellos. Marina vanished toward the bar, and within seconds a blonde had taken her place—same slap, same kiss, same introduction. Only the name changed.
Once she left, Paul winked at Michelle. “What can I say? I’m a generous man.”
“Such a philanthropist.”
“What kind of word is that?” Paul eyed her outfit. “You’re like… preppy and shit. What’s with the Ralph Lauren polo? You got boat shoes at home to go with it?”
“I’m not sure you should give fashion advice in neon spandex pants,” she shot back.
Paul’s brows shot up. He wasn’t used to being roasted by a woman. His gaze dragged over Michelle. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? And fancy. I like it.”
Then he whacked me in the chest. “You still singing in that shitty band?”
“Yep.”
“What was the name again—Rabid Jerkoff?” He snorted.
“So close,” I said. “We’re on tomorrow night at the Allard Street House. Eight sharp. Come by if you want to hear real music.”
“Eight? That’s adorable. Do you hand out pudding cups at intermission?”
“No. It’s to skirt the noise ordinance this time around.”
“Noise ordinance? Fuck that. Sunset Boulevard doesn’t have a noise ordinance.”
“Well, come if you want,” I said, prickling at the dig. His band was playing the strip, but mine was packing the house.
“Will you be there?” he asked Michelle, his eyes doing another slow lap around her.
“I will,” she said.
“Wearing Prada, no doubt?”
They exchanged a smile, bonding over… hell if I knew.
The guitarist waved him back. Paul flipped him off, then to us said, “Gotta go collect my check. Michelle, stay fresh. Scotty, save me a chocolate.”
“Eight’s not that early,” I called, but he was gone.
Michelle turned to me, eyes wide. “Wow. So… Paul, huh?”
“That’s right.” I smiled.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a brother?”
“I’ve got an older sister, Erica, too.”
She frowned. “Why did I think you were an only child?”
