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We look at each other, neither wanting to part, but then finally I say, “You go ahead. I’ll just step outside for a minute.”
Evie nods, a bit reluctantly and then disappears into the crowd with Kara and some of the other girls from the group. Cheryl stays behind, arms crossed as if in protest. Nobody cares.
There’s a door off the balcony that leads to an outside pavilion with views of the Parisian rooftops. It’s populated by a lot of VIPs smoking everything from cigarettes to hashish. I thread through to a spot on the edge where I can get a bit of the stiff night breeze and maybe dry my sweat-soaked shirt off a bit.
“Nick.”
I turn and see Dalton. I shake his outstretched hand, moving so there’s room for him on the balcony.
“I haven’t seen you all night,” I say.
“I’ve been backstage, wrangling the crew and the other acts,” he says. He wipes his forehead. “It’s going okay.” He sounds way too dour for the awesome time everyone’s having in there.
“You’re pulling it off,” I say. “I had my doubts, but I can admit when I’m wrong.”
“Yeah, you look like you’re having fun,” he says. “I saw Kara and Evie for a moment going backstage. Seems like the deal is progressing.”
“Not sure I could dance any harder,” I say.
Dalton nods but he looks absentminded, barely focused on the deal that seemed to matter so much to him.
“How old are you?” I ask him.
He blinks, side-eyes me. “Twenty-two,” he says. “Why?”
“You’re going to go far in this business,” I say. “You’ve got a great eye for talent. Kara is a star. Where’d you find her?”
He cocks his head, realizes I’m serious, and laughs. “Man, you got it backward. Kara asked me to manage her. In all honesty, I barely know what the hell I’m doing.”
My brow furrows. “What do you mean she asked you?”
“She wanted someone she knew and I guess she trusted me not to fuck it up,” he says. “We grew up together in the same building in Brooklyn. I’ve known her my whole life.” There’s a note of wistfulness in his tone and it’s not hard to recognize it. This guy’s got it bad, and he’s gotten unlucky enough for his childhood crush to suddenly be in the same league with NBA players.
“You’re not fucking it up,” I remind him. “She’s got to be pretty appreciative.”
He nods. “She is.” But not in the way I’d like her to be. It goes unsaid but understood.
I look Dalton up and down. He’s good-looking, well put together, tall. Not basketball player tall but tall enough. I’m about to ask him why he’s never made a move when two familiar faces shove through the mix.
Brent hesitates when he sees me, looking like he wants to turn around and find another spot. But Dax is with him and the man reaches out to shake my hand, obviously happy to see me. He playfully slugs Dalton on the shoulder in greeting. Dalton, for his part, doesn’t look thrilled to see his crush’s boyfriend and smiles weakly.
“Haven’t seen either of you all night,” Dax says.
“Been dancing,” I say. I’m not sure how I feel about the guy yet but I stay friendly. Brent, on the other hand, goes ignored.
“So you are with that advertising chick, huh?” Dax asks. “Is that a serious thing?”
“I don’t know yet,” I say.
“So you wouldn’t be mad if I talked to her?”
I freeze, ice shooting instantly down my veins. I would absolutely fucking mind. Dax must read the instant fury that darkens my face because he raises two gigantic hands.
“Man, say the word and I’ll leave her alone. I respect you.”
But does he respect Kara? I thought they were an item.
“You’re not missing much,” Brent cuts in with a sneer. “Believe me.”
