As he walked backwards toward his truck, he offered a peace-sign salute. “Later, Babe.”
It had to be the flirtiest move any man had ever made. And I loved it.
“I’m not marrying him,” I called out.
“In that case…” He pointed south. “Mexico is about two hours that way.”
His smile never faded as he climbed into his truck. Nor did mine. And I really didn’t like that he was leaving. I wanted more, but of course, I couldn’t have it. Scott’s truck roared to life, but instead of driving forward, he backed up until his cab was level with my car. He stuck his head out the window. “Hey, you like music, Gold Coast?”
“Yes. Why?”
Scott disappeared inside his truck for a moment beforereemerging in the window with a paper in his outstretched arm. “Here.”
I leaned over the passenger seat to take the flyer, and then, righting myself, I read it out loud. “Rabid Jackal.”
“It’s my band. We’re playing tonight at nine. You should come.”
He was a musician. A thrill raced through me. Music was my passion. Sure, Rabid Jackal was doubtless a heavy metal band, but as far as I was concerned, talent was talent. And having been born with perfect pitch, I was entirely qualified to identify it.
My excitement waned when I saw the address. Me. Alone in Venice Beach. At night. With all the eccentrics and druggies.
“I wish I could, but my mother is hosting a fundraiser tonight.”
“Come after. I’ll put you on the guest list. Michelle Lavelle.” Scott’s truck rolled forward. “Oh, and Michelle? Prince Donny is not invited.”
“Why? Are you going to blow me a kiss from the stage?”
“Better,” he tossed the words out the window as he drove away. “I’m going to blow your mind.”
2
SCOTT: JUST SAY NO
I caught her in the rearview mirror and adjusted it to get one last look. Yep, there she was, hair blowing in the breeze, light blue eyes catching the sun. Legs for days. Damn. She reminded me of Brooke Shields. Innocent, hot, and definitely out of my budget. Didn’t mean I couldn’t dream.
I watched Michelle fade into the horizon, half expecting her to chase me down… and then what? Hop in my truck? Take a ride on the cash-strapped side? Catching my expectant reflection in the rearview mirror, I actually laughed. Like I could nab me an heiress. A girl from the neighborhood? Not a problem. Middle and upper-class girls? With some effort, usually. But the heir to an oil fortune? Even I understood my charms didn’t extend that far.
“Yeah, she’s not coming to the show,” I chuckled to myself.
I didn’t lack the confidence; no worries there. I just knew my place in the natural order of things. A guy from the practical side of town was never welcome in the well-to-do cul-de-sacs. Dating the O’Reilly twins had taught me that. Their father owned the three McDonald’s franchises closest to me and had threatened to ban me from each and every one if I didn’timmediately cease and desist with his teenage daughters. It wasn’t like I’d set out to date them both, but they were identical, and I wasn’t detail-oriented. So, when one of them pushed me against a wall and we started making out, I genuinely thought I was kissing the correct twin. I wasn’t. And whenmytwin found out, she went ballistic… on her sister. There was hair-pulling, face-slapping, and an all-out screaming war in the O’Reilly house, prompting their father to issue the McDonald’s ban. I didn’t fight for Tina. Or was it Gina? At the end of the day, Chicken McNuggets meant more to me than any girl ever could.
I adjusted the rearview mirror to its correct position. She was long gone. It was better this way. I definitely didn’t need the distraction. It was tough enough meeting my day-to-day responsibilities without adding a Rockefeller to the list.
Returning my eyes to the road ahead, I belted out the lyrics to “Porno Queen,” a favorite among Rabid Jackal fans. As always, in-car concerts were an interactive experience, and by the time I’d pulled into the gravel driveway off to the side of a tri-level home, my throat was raw and my neck was aching from headbang-related whiplash.
Instantly I spotted my buddy, Allen, sitting in the gravel with his back against the garage. Shit. I glanced around, looking for my landlord. Meg had made it clear she didn’t want my deadbeat friends hanging around her house. She had this thing about caring what neighbors thought of her, and Allen—yeah, he would not be a welcome addition to the community.
“Dude,” I whispered, stepping out of my truck and shutting the door as quietly as I could. “I told you not to wait on the property.”
“I know, but I thought you were joking,” Allen said, squinting up at me like a vampire venturing out into the sunlight.
“No. No, I wasn’t.”
“My apologies for existing in your zip code.”
“You should be sorry. Property values plummeted the second you lit that joint.”
“Chill, McKallister.” He offered me his blunt. “I just got here.”
