Page 93 of Sweet Shots

I narrow my eyes at her, then look at Mikah.

We’ve never had this conversation. Oddly enough. I don’t know if he’s gay or bi or something in between. We had the threesome with Storm, but that just happened because of toomuch alcohol. Thankfully it worked out because it could have ended very badly.

“We’ve never discussed it,” Mikah says politely.

“Well, if you ever do, I’m your girl,” Diana answers.

“You’re everyone’s girl,” Gerard mutters.

“You’re just mad I’m not yours anymore!” she shouts at him, scowling.

“Are you fucking serious?” Stella screeches back at her, as if she’s the problem.

“Get your girl under control,” Victor barks at Gerard.

I shake my head before turning toward Mikah and resting it against his shoulder.

“Get me outta here,” I say as everyone else keeps bickering. I should have sat on the other side of the limo, where everyone is calm and quiet.

Ten minutes after that, we’re getting out, and no one threw punches or took out their claws. My vote is on Diana all damn day. Stella has a big mouth. She’s nice, but she’s a shit talker. She’s only well-known because of dating Gerard, and she’s pissed that Diana, who dated Gerard for years, has a shit ton of fame on her own. She’s jealous. Point blank.

The second the limo comes to a halt, I lunge for the door. Yeah, that’s why I sat over here. Now I remember. Once I’m out, I grab Mikah’s hand and help him out. There are a ton of paparazzi snapping photos, blinding us already.

We’re ushered toward the rose gold carpet, both of us smoothing down our suits to be presentable.

“You ready for this?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he answers stiffly. “I didn’t realize this would be such a big thing.”

I chuckle, taking his hand and moving forward.

“Just smile and wave,” I say.

Where the limo drops us off, there are hardly any people. Once we get onto the carpet and closer to the hotel, there are ropes tied off with screaming fans and people with cameras behind them. They’re all lunging, trying to grab anyone they can on the carpet, holding out photos and markers.

I stop and sign a few pictures of me, along with some boobs, because why not? I take a selfie with a few people, and Mikah waits patiently for me.

“Oh my god, that’s Michael Preston!” someone shouts, causing him to frown. He turns to face the other side, and a young guy with long curly hair has hearts in his eyes. “Michael, I love you!” he says. “Please, sign me! Sign something! Can I have a hug?”

Mikah looks at me, unsure. Maybe a little scared.

“Go on,” I say, shooing him with a smile.

He goes to the guy with a shrug, signs his arm and takes a picture with him.

We finally make it to the doors, and once we’re in the foyer, we get pulled aside by some woman in a sparkling dress who starts asking all kinds of questions with a camera pointed in my face.

“How do you feel about the award tonight, Dominic? Are you worried about your competition?” she asks, looking into the camera.

“I don’t consider this competition,” I answer. “We’re all friends. Just trying to make a living.”

“That’s very kind of you to say, but Gerard Lewis doesn’t quite agree with that.”

“Gerard Lewis only ever agrees with himself,” I say with a smile.

The woman laughs, then moves on to asking me some other questions. Things about the break I’m taking, about Mikah, what suit I’m wearing. You’d think this was the damn Grammys or something.

We make our way into the lobby and are greeted by one of the workers who helps us find our seats. Once we know where we are sitting, we go to the bar.

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