Page 51 of When Glitter Meets Gold

A heavy feeling settles in J’s stomach, and his limbs suddenly feel like they’re made from lead. He swallows thickly, then summons the waiter behind the bar, signaling for another drink. It’s delivered a moment later, but beforehe can place the crystal to his lips, he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, really sorry about that man.” J turns to see the Ken doll with the muscles standing behind him. “Got the cab, but apparently we’re missing a purse.” The guy humorously rolls his eyes before bending to retrieve an item from the floor. “Got it!” he says, scooping up a black clutch with silver jewels. “I’m Drew by the way. Big fan of this place. Big fan of all your places in fact.” He extends an arm.

The guy seems genuine. Which is why J shakes his hand a little tighter than necessary.

“A friend of Kandi, I assume?” J makes no attempt to hide the contempt in his voice because this whole entourage is putting on quite the convincing show.

Drew is motionless, his still demeanor apparently sensing the hostility. He appears to shrug it off regardless, continuing to flash his ultra white teeth while running a hand through his perfect, shiny, hair.

“She’s a colleague, yeah.” Drew pulls back his hand, stretching out his crushed fingers. “You know Kandi too?” He laughs, “I’m trying to get my head around how you’re all connected.” Drew scratches his head. “Hey, did I hear that you and Sara met on the trails?”

Bored with the innocent act, J downs his scotch, and sets the empty glass down on the bar. Hard.

The abrupt gesture causes Drew to stop in his tracks.

“So,” J growls. “Where is she? Gone to file a negligence report? Talking to the press? Or out back deciding how much money you think you’ll get out of me. How did you even get past my security?”

Drew raises both hands, he’s smiling, the gesture leaning more toward shock than humor. “Hold on. You think we planned for Amber to fall on purpose to getmoneyout ofyou? Damn.” Drew’s eyes narrow. “We’re here tonight because your marketing team invited us.”

J’s murky eyes stare holes into Drew’s stunned features as he steps forward, bridging the gap between the pair. He’s unaware that a crowd has formed all over again, surrounding them with curious eyes as they whisper behind cupped hands. Not to mention the lurking photographers with their fingers poised to capture further chaos.

J growls, the rumble worthy of shattering concrete. How dare this guy continue with this ruse.

But now Drew is stepping forward, his posture morphing into something like a big cat defending its territory. “You know, for a second, I was stoked to finally meet the famous J Vandenberg. Turns out you’re a complete jackass.” J’s eyes widen. “In fact, from what I can see you’re nothing but an overrated bully.”

And there it is.

The fatal trigger.

The thrashing red flag to the charging bull.

A word he can’t stand being directed at him.

Bully.

There’s no way he can allow this man to throwthatword around so callously with such disregard for what it truly means, for what it implies. He isn’t an aggressor or an intimidator or anything that falls under its cloak.

He isnothis father.

His pupils flare as rage practically roils from him like vapor dispelling from liquid nitrogen.

He’s a hairline fracture away from combusting when a petite waitress with first-day-on-the-job nerves squeaks, “Mr. Vandenberg, the girl who fell just vomited on the statue of Midas. What should I do?”

No sooner are the words out of her mouth, when thewaitress is swiftly dragged from the scene by two other colleagues who scold her for bothering him with such trivial details.

It’s not the thought of the vomit sliming his statue that sends him over the edge. It’s not even the press who rush to photograph said vomit-slimed statue.

It’s the oily smile that curls onto the Ken doll’s face that finally does it.

Sense and reason leave J’s body to make way for a rumbling and lengthy,“FUUUUCK!!!”

After a cacophony of frenzied gasps and incessant blinding flashes, two large security-types intervened to diffuse the situation. The guy in the luminous suit whisked Drew off into the crowd, helping him narrowly escape a manhandling which kept him from being implicated in the outburst.

Now J’s perched on a stool with Enrique fixing him a fresh scotch at the other side of the bar, ironically reminiscent of old times.

“So, you had a hissy fit on your opening night?” Enrique shrugs. “You’ve done worse over the years.”

J drags a hand down his face because no,he’s sure nothing worse than this has occurred over the years. Exhibiting confrontational body language in front of his peers and guests, cursing while he shook with rage in the middle of the bar, all while having the entire thing captured on film.

---