“Never better.”
He smiled at my sarcasm. “To what do I owe this pleasure, and all that shit.” He narrowed his eyes at me as he sipped his drink.
“Heard you were back from the road. Tour going good?”
“Good enough. Heading back out in about a week. Was getting pretty accustomed to the good life, though, touring with Dirty. The summer festival circuit is fun and all, but if I never see another porta potty it’ll be too fucking soon.”
I snickered. “The four-to-five-star hotel run is over, huh?”
“Not like I was staying in any five-star hotels to begin with, but it was fun to pretend for a while. You hear from Dylan lately?”
“Yeah. Think he’s in France right now. I flew out to play DreamWarp last week.”
“With the Pushers?”
“No, man. Just joined Dirty onstage for a few songs. They invited me out. Me and Summer.”
The waitress arrived with my beer. She set it in front of me with a smile, then pretty much raped Xander with her eyes. “You need anything, baby?”
“You can bring me another one, sweetheart.” He lifted his half-finished drink, vodka or gin. He watched the waitress turn on her high heel and sashay away, his eyes dropping to her ass.
Then he swung his gaze back to me. A guarded look. “So, the Pushers really broke up, huh? After your breakup party, seeing Janner there with you, kinda figured you guys might kiss and make up.”
“Nope. We’re done.”
“Damn. That’s rough.” His tone was sympathetic but the look in his eyes wasn’t.
“Yeah, it’s rough. But it was time. Summer and I are looking to start up something new now.”
“Summer? The DJ?
“Yeah. I mean, she does more than that. She writes and sings, and she’s phenomenal on keys. We’re putting together a band.”
He sipped his drink. “She’s your ex, though.”
“She is.”
“That’s ballsy. Don’t think I could ever play in a band with one of my exes.”
“Could any of your exes tie her own shoes, much less play a musical instrument?”
He choked out a laugh. “Jesus. And no, probably not.”
“So,” I said, getting right to it, “I heard through the rock ’n’ roll grapevine that you might be looking to make a change.”
His smile faded. “Who told you that? Dylan?”
“Few people.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Dylan does nothing but sing your praises,” I assured him. “Sounds like you guys really bonded on the tour.”
“You could say that. Dylan’s always been a good friend.” His eyes held on mine.
I wasn’t even sure if that was a dig or what. About what kind of friend I’d been?
I sipped my beer as the waitress dropped off his next drink and he checked her out again.
