Page 123 of Dirty Like Dylan

Amber

The next evening, we arrived in L.A. just in time for an Underlayer party that Dylan had to be at.

He’d decided he couldn’t go without us, so he flew us all down with him—me, Ashley and Con. I kinda got the feeling he also wanted to give me a little taste of travel, because maybe he worried that asking me to stay with him and Ashley was kinda clipping my wings. I didn’t mention it, but I appreciated the gesture and the impromptu mini-adventure.

The party was at a club in Hollywood, and we went straight there from the airport, not even swinging by Dylan’s house in Santa Monica first, though I would’ve liked to see it. We pulled up to the red carpet in a limo and as it turned out, the party was star-studded.

Honestly, I was kinda bummed I hadn’t brought my camera. Though when I’d started getting interested in photographing celebrities—photographing Dylan naked by his pool?—I wasn’t sure. But hey, a girl could evolve. Anyway, it wasn’t like I could just start snapping photos even if I had it with me. I wasn’t gonna be a tool about it when I was here with Dylan.

So I just tried to look pretty and composed on his arm, in the little yellow Betsey Johnson dress I’d borrowed from Katie—better than letting Dylan buy me another new, crazy-expensive one—then hung back with Ashley while he worked the room a bit.

I knew we should talk about the elephant in the room—about whatever wasn’t being said between Dylan and Ashley, despite Ashley assuring me that nothing was going on between them. Clear the air. Address the fact that maybe this arrangement of ours just wasn’t going to work for any length of time.

Bail the hell out before we all went down with the ship?

But it was incredibly hard to do that when I just kept getting swept up in their world. When they were both so into me… and so good to me.

When Ashley held my hand the entire time we were at the Underlayer party, while Dylan did his thing, so I wouldn’t have to be alone.

And when Dylan got us out of there so damn fast, because clearly he’d rather spend the night with us than with a ton of other people fawning over him. Despite the fact that we’d flown here so he could make an appearance, he didn’t seem particularly interested in that party. Instead, he said he wanted to check in at the club.

“The club?” I asked.

“Dylan’s club,” Ashley said.

I looked up at Dylan. I was curled up between them, sipping champagne in the back of the limo. “You own a club?”

“Yup.”

“Let me guess,” I teased. “Strip club?”

“Nope.”

“It used to be a gay bar, actually,” Ashley told me. “Dance club. Then it was a rock bar for a while. Then Dylan took over. It’s a dance club again, most of the time. Pushers played there last year, though.”

“Cool. So… if you own the club, why do we need Con?” I grinned at Con, who was sitting across from us. “No offense, Con.”

“None taken.”

“We’ve been all over Vancouver without security,” I pointed out. “Why do you need it here?”

“Because this is L.A.,” Ashley answered for Dylan. “People don’t bother Dylan in Vancouver as much.”

Bother? Interesting word. Dylan never seemed bothered by much, so I was kinda curious to see how this night would play out.

When we rolled into Dylan’s club, they seemed to know he was coming. The staff were all over us, whisking us to a private area in the back corner, lavishing us with the VIP treatment. Drinks, and a lot of them, were immediately served up.

And if I thought Vancouver parties were intimidating, I was really thrown into the fire here.

As in, women were all over my men.

And yes, I’d definitely come to think of them as my men.

Objectively, if I took my knee-jerk jealousy out of the equation, nothing was actually going on. Dylan and Ashley gave out hugs and cheek kisses where expected, but they weren’t exactly frolicking in a hot tub with anyone in front of me.

By the time we finished doing the rounds at Dylan’s club and headed out to another one to do it all over again, I was kind of getting used to it. Mostly because either Dylan or Ashley would always hold my hand in-between the hugs and cheek kisses, and if they couldn’t, Con would be by my side, so I was never left alone.

In the next club, the guys seemed to know some of the staff, and we were whisked off to a VIP area where we settled into a booth. A few people hung around, friends of Dylan’s and Ashley’s, and our table was loaded with drinks. I’d been pacing myself so far with the booze; it was still kinda early and I didn’t want to be wasted by midnight, what with all the free liquor flowing. But I decided to let myself go a little when Ashley handed a gorgeous martini my way. It was just the way I liked them—extra olives—so I dove in while the guys goofed around and laughed and got caught up with their friends.

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