"What other night?" I asked innocently. I knew she was talking about Saturday night, but seeing the flush creep across her cheeks spurred me on even more.
"Saturday night. You went out with the guys and when you got back, you texted me."
"I text you every night." I shrugged. "You know we always chat before bed."
"You know what I'm talking about," she said as she wagged her finger at me.
"Nope, no idea," I said with another shrug.
"You offered to send me a picture of…of…" her eyes widened before she dropped them down towards my lap.
"Mycock?" As I said the word, I imagined trumpets saluting in the background. She was almost too easy to tease at times. Seeing her face glow brightly, I smiled, seeing the reaction I was looking for. "Of course I offered to send you a picture of my cock. That's what friends are for. You were getting so wrapped up with the budget and the fundraiser, I thought you needed a little distraction. Of course, in my case I mean abigdistraction. And maybe then you'd relax a little."
I winked at her, and she launched her pen towards my head but missed.
"You're such a perv," she said, laughing.
"Me? No, I'm a realist." I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. "Go ahead. Send me a picture of yourself and I'll show you how quickly I can relax." I closed my eyes and put my hand up in her direction. "Never mind, I can imagine it." I lowered my hands to my belt. "Want to watch?"
"You're disgusting," she said as she continued laughing.
"But you forgot all about the fundraiser, didn't you? That's why you love me." I laughed. "Remember, if you ever need a good dick joke or just a picture of one, I'm your man. That's what friends are for."
* * *
The spotlights danced in the clear summer night sky. As I approached the Boone Art Gallery, the line of impressive cars waiting for the valet caught my eye. I slowed my red Bugatti down to take them all in.
Even after all these years of living in wealth with my brother, Gabriel Kohl, this display of money still impressed me. It didn’t matter how much money I had on my own or that I was surrounded by so many billionaires in Canyon Cove, deep down I would always feel like that poor kid who grew up on the wrong side of town.
I pulled the car around to the back of the building to the entrance for the underground garage. There was no way I was going to let some valet touch my car. I spent a summer in college as a valet and knew how shitty they treated the cars. I wasn’t going to let some douchebag take my baby for a joyride.
Tonight was a big night for the South End. Just six months ago, my brother Gabriel Kohl created a grant to initiate its revitalization. Becca and I had been working nonstop since day one. We made a lot of progress by focusing on the old retail and restaurant spaces, but so much had been neglected for so many years that the project needed more capital. As the project manager, Becca didn't want to ask my brother for an additional grant. She felt that with all the wealth in Canyon Cove, everyone could pull together to help. She got her wish when Xander Boone chipped in by hosting a fundraiser at his art gallery.
Becca had been insistent on getting there early. She was one of those crazy people who needed to arrive before anyone else. In this case though, she felt that as the two people who were managing the majority of the revitalization, we should be there to schmooze for the entirety of the event.
Kissing ass and sucking up to people just because they had money was the last thing I wanted to do. I knew it was for a good cause, and I wanted the South End to flourish for my own personal reasons. But the people coming to the Boone all knew why they were invited. Nothing I said or did would make them spend more than they wanted to.
As I entered the main gallery, an item to the right caught my eye. It was an oval mirror from the mid-19th century. I thought for a moment about stopping and admiring myself, but I didn't need a mirror to tell me I looked good.
Now that I had more important things to do than spend my days surfing, my once sandy-colored hair had darkened, but I refused to give up some of my old style. The top of my hair was longer than the sides and tended to flop to the side. I ran my fingers through my hair to push it back, but it had a mind of its own. My new tuxedo was custom tailored by Becca's friend Deborah Hansen and fit me like a glove. It was time to put it to some good use. I didn't plan to spend the night alone.
I walked slowly through the gallery, taking everything and everyone in. The main hall was a large open space with white partitions that created alcoves for the exhibits. At the back of the room was the bar where I told Becca to meet me.
Ahead of me was a seating area with a long couch where I recognized several people Becca and I worked with. Figuring I should say hi, I sauntered over to them. They were so deep in conversation that they didn't notice my joining them.
"I remember when she waitressed at that place with the trolley on her shirt. She should have stayed there," Daryl grumbled.
Daryl had been working at City Hall for years and thought he deserved every new opportunity. He was never happy with his own position and disliked anyone new. Gabriel had to deal with him on a regular basis to keep his licenses for the gym and the fight venues current. This direct contact with my brother made Daryl believe he was more important than he really was.
Despite how much I dragged my feet, I finished my education for my architecture degree in the spring. I was in the middle of looking for a place to complete my licensing hours when my brother created the grant. Gabriel anticipated some blowback after appointing Becca as the project manager, so he arranged with Canyon Cove's mayor for me to do my hours on this project.
Gabriel never asked me to defend Becca and I knew she could take care of herself, but when I met Daryl and heard some of the negative comments he made about her after I started, I couldn't help myself. He thought that since she had been a waitress that she was beneath him. I had no tolerance for bullies. After that, Becca and I became good friends.
I cleared my throat as I narrowed my eyes at Daryl.
"You want to tell me why she should have stayed there, Daryl? Do you really think you could manage the South End revitalization half as well as her?" I asked.
"You can defend your little girlfriend all you want, Gideon, a waitress shouldn't be in charge of this," he said.
