Not bad. A group of women in the corner kept glancing his way, one of them with a smile that suggested she wasn't here to make good choices either. A guy by the pool table caught Dustin looking and raised his beer in acknowledgment. Nice arms. Nicer butt.
Options. Dustin liked options.
He was mentally calculating the logistics of introducing himself to both parties when he saw…
Clipboard guy.
He was standing by the emergency exit like he too was keeping his options open, except that he needed one of those options to be disappearing from this place as quickly as possible.
He was wearing the same thing he'd been wearing earlier too, a tie, button-down, slacks… and that clipboard.
Who brought aclipboard to a club?
Dustin watched him for a moment. Had this dude followed him from the shoot?
A woman bumped into clipboard guy on her way to the bathroom and he apologized so earnestly that she looked almost concerned.
He stuck out like a nun at an orgy, and Dustin couldn’t quite tear his gaze away.
Downing the rest of his drink, he decided to approach.
He crossed the room, weaving through the crowd. Pool table guy tried to catch his eye as he passed. Dustin shot him a wink and a “hold that thought” gesture without breaking stride.
He stopped directly in front of clipboard guy. Up close, he looked even more out of place. He had those wide eyes and that nervous energy and a face that had probably never told a lie in its life. He was kind of cute, actually, in a “has never been to a party before” sort of way.
“Well, well.” Dustin smiled. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Clipboard guy made a startled noise. “I—you—hello.”
“You didn’t expect me to come talk to you?”
“No, I mean… why would you?”
“Why would I?” Dustin leaned one shoulder against the wall, angling closer. Not enough to crowd him, but enough to make a point. “Because you were at my shoot this afternoon. And now you're at this bar. Which kind of suggests you're following me.”
“I'm not—I'm conducting research.”
“Research.”
“Yes.”
“At a nightclub.”
“Yes?”
Dustin let his gaze drift down clipboard guy's body,slow and deliberate, before dragging it back up to his face. The guy's cheeks went pink.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
“And what exactly are you researching?” Dustin asked. “I'll warn you, I charge extra for private sessions.”
“I—what? No. That's not—” Clipboard guy looked like he was short-circuiting. “I’m here on official business.”
“You're at a club called Voltage holding a clipboard. How professional could it possibly be?”
“It's—” He faltered, licked his lips, then tried again. “I'm a reaper.”
Uh-huh. That was a new one.
