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Sitting up and placing a leg on either side of the lounger, Liam clarified, “And when I say entertaining, I mean there was a lot of nice eye candy.”
“Is that all you think about?” I countered.
“That and surfing. Christ, Jake, it’s like you don’t even know me,” he teased, throwing the bottle cap at my face. I caught it with precise accuracy.
I could’ve added the fact that his interests could be split in thirds: surfing, women and food. For being nearly 6’3” and a lean two hundred pounds, the guy’s metabolism was enviable.
I on the other hand was three inches shorter and had twenty pounds on him. Where Liam was lean, I had muscle bulk—but I had to work at it.
With a slight flick of my wrist, I swirled the contents of my tumbler. “Well, then tell me,” I coaxed, “did anyone catch your eye?”
It would be hard not to in a setting such as San Diego Comic-Con. There were many women that cosplayed in scantily clad outfits with their cleavage and cheeks on full display. I’d be lying if I said I never looked myself—it was practically impossible, especially when they paid upwards of five hundred dollars to take a picture with you—but I never considered it a pool from which to go fishing.
“Yeah man,” he exhaled, lost in obvious thought. The sun had long since set, but the glow of the outdoor lanterns made his blonde hair shine in the low light. “I even saw my ex there,” he exclaimed. “She looked really good.”
That was interesting. I wondered which one out of the numerous exes he was referring to. Liam was a bit of a man whore, but none of them actually stayed around too long. It was like one of those sticky hands that you flung at the wall; the time it took to fall to the floor was the length of each relationship.
“What about you?” he inquired, flipping the subject to me.
“You know I don’t really date,” I deflected, even though a certain woman immediately flashed in my mind at his question. “But no, to answer your question,” I finished.
He took another swig of his ale. “Bullshit.”
I raised my brows in question. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I saw you chatting up that blonde chick backstage today…” Liam swung a leg over the edge of the chaise, now facing me. With his long limbs and agile movements, he sometimes reminded me of a giraffe.
I had spoken to a lot of people today, but how he chose to single her out, I hadn’t a clue. I was glad of the shade of darkness that helped conceal the heat rising in my cheeks.
Apparently, my lack of response was grounds for Liam to keep prodding me for information. “Dude, she was hot, what with her legs in those shorts and what not, and Jesus did she have a nice set of—”
“That’s enough,” I interrupted, my voice brooking no room for continuances.
He leaned back once more with a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth, satisfied with my outburst. A stubbed thumbnail began picking away at the label on the bottle, Liam depositing the scraps on the pavers like a slob. “Just as I thought,” he remarked, his voice low and even as he stared out at the dark ocean.
“If you weren’t my costar, I’d beat your ass,” I flipped him.
“I’m not your costar anymore, so how about you try ’cause I’m your best friend?” he taunted.
I stood to do just that, my bare feet feeling the warmth the stones still held from the day’s heat. My phone rang in my pocket and I checked to see who it was.
“Must be your lucky day, douche; it’s Chet.” I slid the phone open but Liam’s greeting drowned mine out.
“Chet—settle something for us,” Liam announced. I rolled my eyes at him, knowing it was best to indulge him in his antics than try and argue. He was a complete man-child.
“Hello, Liam,” Chet’s professional tone came through. “Glad to see you two are together, as I have information that pertains to you both—though you should be hearing from your own manager, I’d presume.”
Liam waved his bottle in the air saying, “Cool cool, but first settle our disagreement.”
The line went silent, Chet waiting to hear the adolescent case that was about to be presented. I knew he was rolling his eyes and had most likely muted himself when he sighed in annoyance.
Liam went on. “Tell me, Chester,” he snickered, winking at me, knowing Chet hated his given name, “who do the ladies love more? Me or Jakey?”
Really?I mouthed. “You don’t have to answer this idiot, Chet. You make money because of me, not him.”
Chet cleared his throat and replied rather diplomatically, “Liam, you are well received by the opposite sex—and the same sex for that matter, but seeing as my loyalties lie with myemployer, they love Jake more.” I smiled childishly at Liam. And then for good measure, Chet concluded with, “They always go for the leading man, not his sidekick.”
Well, that would earn him a healthy bonus.
