Did we?
* * *
It happened less than a week after I’d graduated high school and arrived back in the city.
It was Friday night, and I’d gone out for drinks with Summer Sorensen. She’d invited me to come out with her and some of her girlfriends; I’d met her a year-and-a-half before, over Christmas break, at a music industry party. I went to a lot of parties like that when I was in the city, thanks to Angie or Shayla or Larissa inviting me. And I knew a lot of people in the local music scene, through my friends or through my brother.
But it wasn’t every day a hot DJ invited you to party with her.
I’d given Summer my number—DJ Summer, that’s what everyone called her—when she asked for it. I was hoping she’d call me, because honestly, she was cool. Plus, she was twenty-something, and I’d always gotten along better with people who were older than me. I’d never really understood girls my own age.
Older friends were also handy; friends who could get me into the bar.
But she’d never called. Until just over three weeks ago.
I had to admit, it was pretty cool walking into the bar that night with DJ Summer and her girlfriends.
The bar was the Back Door, it was a rock bar, and I knew my brother’s band played there years ago. Some of the bands he produced played there. I was nervous about running into someone who knew me, but the bouncers didn’t even blink at me. Summer looped her arm through mine, and no one asked me for ID.
She was quick to get me a drink, and I knew what she wanted. I wasn’t dense. She wasn’t exactly the first person—especially the first woman—who’d been nice to me to try to get near my brother. Though I was pretty sure her intentions were purely professional.
It was cool of her, though, that she didn’t go on about Cary all night. She only mentioned him once, when she asked me if I’d come to a party at her house the next week, and if I’d like to bring my brother.
I told her, flat out, that he wouldn’t come, and she dropped it.
She still treated me like royalty. Bought me drinks all night, told me not to worry, that she’d get me home.
I enjoyed the VIP treatment, but I tried not to drink too much. I didn’t mind getting drunk, but I didn’t want to get wasted. The music industry in Vancouver was pretty small and pretty tight, and I was aware that at any moment I might run into someone who knew my brother. And while I wasn’t exactly gonna ask Cary’s permission to go to a bar, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be thrilled to know I was here—hanging out with the grownups and sipping vodka cranberries.
Summer hung out with me most of the night, introducing me around to her many friends. Girls, mostly, but there were some cute guys, too. She introduced me to Ashley Player, who was pretty gorgeous, but I tried not to make a big deal of it. I wasn’t sure if he knew my brother, and I didn’t actuallywantthis getting back to Cary.
Anyway, it wasn’t that big a deal meeting someone like Ashley. I’d never met him before, but I’d been meeting rock stars since I was like six years old. It didn’t faze me.
At least, most rock stars didn’t faze me.
But then I ran into Xander.
Or he ran into me.
It was late in the night, and maybe I’d let down my guard because I’d gotten away with this for a few hours. I’d been doing shots with Summer’s friends, and suddenly he was just there in the crowd, coming right at me. Looking at me—or more like right through me.
Xander had this dickish way of looking somewhere just past my eyes, like I wasn’t worthy of eye contact. He’d been looking at me like that—fucking blankly—for the last two years.
Then he looked at the guy who was talking to me. One of Summer’s friends; some guy named Blair. She’d introduced me to him along with everyone else in the vicinity of her table, and I didn’t really think anything of him until Xander looked at him the way he did.
Blair was kinda tough looking, like a biker or something, but I was used to guys who looked like that hanging around the musicians I knew. A lot of their security guys looked like Blair did, though he wasn’t working security for Summer. He was dressed in a plain T-shirt and faded jeans, with biker boots, and he had some tats on his arms. But not gorgeous, arty tats like Xander; more like sketchy homemade ones.
He didn’t seem to notice Xander scoping him out. He went right on talking to me. He was asking me about Summer, how well I knew her, something like that.
I didn’t get a chance to answer.
Xander leaned into me and said in my ear, “What the hell are you doing here?”
I pulled back. “Hey, Xander. Nice to see you, too.” It wasn’t, really.
Granted, I definitely used to think he was a prince—back when I was fourteen and didn’t know any better. But things had changed since then.
Back then, I’d had crushes on a lot of my brother’s friends. It was only natural, maybe.
