Page 71 of One More Bad Boy

“Something that doesn’t taste like alcohol,” I said.

He snapped his fingers, then quickly mixed some ingredients in a metal shaker. I marveled at how he flipped the glass, performing for the people who were gathered nearby. He lifted his arms over his head, filling a high-ball glass from several feet above.

“Wow,” I laughed. “Impressive. What do I owe you?”

He made a face. “Not a cent. Open bar. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“No, but I won’t complain.” I took the drink from him.

He wiped the bar top down as he winked at me. “These big parties run by bigwigs are always open. That’s half the reason people even come.”

My mood deflated a hair. “You don’t say.”

“Sure. I mean, the majority of people here don’t know what the event’s for.”

I sat a bit taller on the stool. “Do you know?”

“Not a clue.” He said it with a giant grin, like he was proud to be clueless. “I do hundreds of these. That’s life out here in LA, having fun with strangers.”

He has no clue this is my wrap party. He has no clue who I am.It was like reliving the day Korine dropped me at the airport. Only this time, Ididexpect people would know who I was. Was it arrogant? Was I getting an ego?

I drank deep from my glass. “This is delicious. Thanks.” He waved me off, busying himself with other guests. I was already forgotten.

Weaving through the crowd, I ended up hitting a dead-end: the edge of the roof. Below, the tall, brightly lit buildings of downtown LA glittered. Was that guy right? Was this whole city full of fakes? Did anyone here know my name?

“Hey, there she is, the woman of the evening.” I looked up and saw Roshio approaching. His hair was the same spiky blue and orange, but he’d done something to it. “Glitter,” he said, noticing how I was squinting. He fluffed his hair laughed. “I like to spice it up for parties. It looks great in the right lighting.”

“Neat,” I said.

“Yeah, neat.” He gestured out at the party. “Quite a crowd, huh?”

“I guess.”

“Not used to these things?”

“God, no. Can't someone become a singer without having to do so much socializing?”

His laugh was too loud, like he was trying to impress me. “I get it. You prefer spending time more... intimately.” He grinned wolfishly, drawing attention to how we were alone in our corner, and my retreat was a one-way ticket tosplaton the street below. “You haven't been here long, right?”

How did he know that?Maybe it was obvious. “Nope.”

“There's a perfect little Southwest restaurant down in El Segundo. Fuses chili and tacos,amazing.”

Shit. He was asking me on a date. “I'm not really into spicy food.”

“No problem. What about sushi?”

I looked off to the side. “I like it, but I doubt anywhere here is as good as my favorite place, and I hate to be disappointed, so...”

Roshio cocked his head, his smile becoming gentler. “Oh. I get it. You can tell me to back off, I won't be offended.”

Feeling relieved, I tipped my glass towards him. “Thanks for understanding.”

“Not a prob, not a prob.” He scanned the crowd. “Sooo... you sleeping with Bach?”

I nearly dropped my glass. “What? I—what? Who said that?”

“Chill out! Nobody said anything, I'm just good at putting clues together.” He studied my face carefully. “You blush super cute. Shame he's claimed you. What sealed the deal, money? Fame?”

---