Page 53 of The Sun and Her Star

I hadn’t considered that Apollo would be here. It didn’t matter that the party started at 5 p.m. As soon as word got out that The Four Horsemen were in one place at once, every woman in Los Angeles would be in here dressed like it was midnight on Friday.

“Man, thisFifty Shades of Greyshit is killing my vibe.” Dave leans over to shout in my ear. I pulled back from him, wincing at the vibration his voice let loose on my eardrum.

“Why are you screaming in my ear? The music’s not even that loud up here.” I scoot away from him. He ignores me completely and moves closer to me. “I can’t believe I’m wearing a fucking suit tonight,” he says, throwing back his bourbon and tugging at the tight-fitting sleeves of his suit jacket.

“I haven’t had to work this hard to get pussy since before my growth spurt when I was thirteen. That fucker Grey’s not even fucking real, man, and suddenly, we’re all trying to fucking look like him.”

“Do you think that maybe you have to work hard for pussy because you curse like a fucking sailor?”

“Girls love a guy who says ‘fuck.’ All that gentlemanly shit you play at is out. Girls want an alpha. Not some pussy who says ‘please’ and calls her ‘sweetheart.’”

“Yeah,” I scoff at him. “Says the man who calls women ‘girls’.” I roll my eyes.

“Yeah, well you can act like you’re a gentleman, Graham. But only one of us has a ‘PussyPhone.’”

Just then, the phone he referenced lights up. My stomach tightens when I see Nanette’s calling. I send it to voice mail.

I take a sip of my gin and tonic and grimace at the bite of it. I never drink. But tonight, I need all the help I can get. Everything is such a mess.

I feel sick to my stomach when I remember Apollo’s face when she saw Nanette at the restaurant last night. I couldn’t even look at her. She’d left without saying goodbye. I didn’t blame her. I fucking hate Nanette, but she’s got me by the balls.

I look back at Dave and find his attention has moved back to the dancers. And that his eyes are trained on the one person he shouldn’t ever look at. Not like that.

“Get your filthy fucking eyes off her.” I lean down and murmur in his ear. He throws his head back and laughs.

Her dark, pin straight hair falls to her waist, flies behind her like floating raven’s wings. The same way it had looked the first time I saw her.

In the lighting of the club, her eyes glitter like polished chips of onyx as she twirls across the dance floor with some motherfucker whose hands are hovering too close to her ass.

She turns, and her sharp, high cheekbones come into focus. A second later, she whirls again, and this time I get the full, breath seizing view of a heartshaped face that is punctuated by a dimple in the middle of her softly pointed chin.

She’s laughing. Her berry stained lips part to reveal generous pink gum and her small perfectly straight white teeth that gleam as the flashing lights above slide over them. Every time I see it, that enchanting smile launches a thousand dreams in my heart. Tonight, I push them back down.

She came, but I know it’s not because she wants to congratulate me. She hasn’t looked at me since our eyes met when I was walking across the stage.

“Yeah, you getyourfilthy fucking eyes off her first.” Dave’s amused whisper doesn’t bother me. Between him, Reece and Omar, we’re the closest. He knows more than anyone else what my life is really like. He doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body, and he’s the least judgmental person I know. Maybe it’s because he’s stoned all the time. Or maybe, it’s that he has a very off kilter moral compass when it comes to sex, women and life in general.

He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest as he continues to observe Apollo. “She’s fucking mesmerizing. I don’t understand why she’s not famous or something.”

“She doesn’t want to be famous. She’s going to study art. And youneedto stop watching her like that,” I repeat, this time pulling my own eyes away. I can’t ever let Apollo catch me looking at her. Because I know she feels the same way. But I’m not free to give her what she wants. Not now.

Apollo is my other half. The part of me that’s good and happy. I have to believe I can still reclaim that. Even after everything I’ve done.

The shitbag she’s dancing with leans down, whispers in her ear, and runs a finger down her shoulder. My stomach tightens with anger and jealousy at the way she leans into him and smiles.

I stand up and look down at my friends. Omar’s got a girl on his lap and another tucked into his side. I curl my lip in disgust at him. He’s going to be pissed when he wakes up tomorrow. I lean down and whisper in his ear, “Stop drowning your sorrows in pussy, man.”

“Shut the fuck up, Graham,” he says, shoving me away with his shoulder. I laugh because I know he knows I’m right.

Reece’s eyes are glued to his BlackBerry, his eyes darting back and forth reading emails or reports or whatever. This guy is a workaholic in a way that I think was unhealthy. But, I know that work is how he escapes the drama he has with his wife. I would say bye, but he likely wouldn’t remember it later anyway.

I look back at Dave. “I’ll call you. Let’s wreak a little havoc before you leave for NYC.”

He stands up. “Of course. I’m always down for whatever.” His eyes are uncharacteristically serious as we face each other.

“I don’t know what you’re doing with that blonde viper, man. But, don’t fuck things up with Apollo. You’ll never, ever do better than her.” His words are punch to my gut and I glance over my shoulder to where she’s dancing.

When I look back at him, his usual easy-going expression is back. He gives me a lopsided, conspiratorial grin, “Fuck her before she leaves; that’ll fix everything. I’m going to the bar.”

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