Page 66 of Pieces of Me

Rylan. Rylan would understand.

Scott sagged to the barstool next to the island, his shoulders slumping. The one person who had ever really known him was miraculously back in his life, and once again, Scott the Epic Fuckup had ruined everything. Grabbing him like that, treating him like a sordid club hookup…he’d be lucky if Rylan ever talked to him again.

Different kinds of memories swamped him now, memories he’d buried deep and locked away, some of the worst and best times of his life braided together into a complicated rope of emotion, the fraying knot of his own poor choices sitting right in the middle of it all.

Make me your friend.

Oh God, Scott wanted that. He wanted it so badly the need rose up and choked him with it, a strangled sob escaping from between his lips to echo in the empty kitchen. A friend, someone who’d seen the worst in him yet somehow still managed to suss out the best, someone whose kindness and compassion was bone-deep―not an act, not a front―just someone who’d once cared about Scott in the way he so desperately needed to be cared about. Unconditionally, with no judgment…

If there was a chance to have that again, he wouldn’t fuck it up. Not this time.

✩✩✩

“Well, hello, babycakes!”

Rylan smiled at Teena as he walked into the small conference room at the club. “Hey, there.” He glanced at the group sitting around the table and widened his smile to encompass them all. “The security gentleman at the door said I could come on back. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all. We’re just having our monthly strategy session.” A tall, gray-haired man rose from his seat at the head of the table and approached Rylan, his hand out. “I’m Corey Lindermann, owner of Spectrum Nights.”

“Rylan Mahoney, sir. Pleased to meet you.”

“My goodness, Rylan, call me Corey.” He waved Rylan to a chair before introducing everyone else in the room, including Simon Akers, his co-owner in the club. Scott was there, and he lifted his hand in a laconic wave, his lips quirking up. Rylan was relieved to see his face seemed relaxed, open, with no trace of residual hostility.

“I wanted to drop off a memory stick from last night,” Rylan explained after he was seated. “Scott said to stop by sometime today, so―”

“Of course. Scott mentioned you might, and so you know, he’s vouched for you one hundred percent. As far as I’m concerned, you’re to have full access to the club at all times.”

Rylan cast Scott a grateful glance, murmuring his thanks.

“Well, hand the stick over, sweetie!” Teena said brightly. “Let’s see the pics!” She winked at Rylan, saying to the room at large, “I’m in them, so they gonna be smokin’ as fuck, y’all.”

Rylan joined in the laughter and dug the thumb drive out of his backpack, handing it to Corey, who stuck it in his MacBook. A few swipes of his touchpad, and the spreadsheets that were being displayed on a nearby SmartBoard disappeared, replaced by Teena in all her sparkly dress, rainbow-boa-covered glory.

She squealed in delight and clapped her hands, and Rylan saw Corey smile at her indulgently. He turned his attention to the photos, manipulating the touchpad to scroll through them slowly.

“These are wonderful, Rylan,” he said at last. “Crisp and clear, well edited. You’ve hit the highlights of the club atmosphere, and I like the touch of elegance you’ve included as well.” He waved his hand at the larger-than-life close-ups Rylan had taken of the five-star cuisine the club boasted, as well as the handcrafted, unique cocktails the bartending staff were famous for inventing.

A short silence fell while the pictures continued to roll by, and then an appreciative rumble went around the table as the ones of Scott in VIP appeared.

“Damn, baby,” Teena exclaimed, her eyes wide as she clapped her hands to her face dramatically. “You be hotter than a fuckin’ Arizona summer!”

Scott blew her a kiss. “Thanks, doll.”

“Truly, Scotty,” breathed Corey, leaning forward to get a better look at the screen. “These are stunning. Your new fitness regimen is really paying off. You’ve been following that low-carb diet plan I wanted you to try?”

“Yeah.”

“The MC₂ underwear shoot is week after next, so you’ll need to start your juice cleanse next Monday at the latest―”

“On it, boss,” Scott said. “Picked up the stuff today, so I’m good to go.” He had an impatient look on his face, as if he’d heard this lecture a thousand times, but Corey went on anyway.

“When you start the cleanse, be sure to add in at least another hour of gym time per day, including sauna. It’ll help with the water weight―”

“He knows, Corey,” Simon broke in, his voice soft and amused. “This ain’t his first rodeo.”

“But this is his chance to make spokesperson,” Corey shot back. “I don’t care what anybody says, Mallory Creswell is looking for someone to represent the western region. Damn it, with Scott as an official Hawt Boy, Spectrum Nights will be on par with any club in West Hollywood!”

Simon held up his hands in acknowledgment and subsided back into his chair.