Hot As Sin

5

“I know, right? It’s kinda crazy. I swear he can smell a change in the weather coming days away.”

“Don’t encourage him,” says Nico. He’s on the other side of the kitchen near the fridge, feeding Kat saltines from his fingers like she’s a spoiled pet. “His head is big enough already. He’s starting to think he’s superhuman. Yesterday he told me he could hear sunlight.”

I lift my brows and look at A.J. He’s smiling like he has a juicy secret he can’t wait to share.

He says, “Wait’ll I tell you about my improved sense of taste. I always loved to eat, but now that I can taste every little nuance of flavor…” He smiles in Chloe’s general direction. “I’ve always gotta have a mouthful.”

When Chloe presses her lips together and flushes red to the roots of her hair, I get the feeling he’s not talking about food.

She glances up at me. I wink at her, happy that everything seems to be going so well for her and A.J., and her flush grows deeper.

“Now that we’re done over sharing, will someone please get the guest of honor a drink?” she says.

There’s about a dozen caterers in uniform hustling around the kitchen, bringing in big aluminum pans of food and various pieces of heating and serving equipment from the vans parked in the driveway outside. Bottles of liquor are already lined three deep along the counter by the sink, and bars are being set up around the pool outside and in the living room. It looks like we’ve got enough alcohol to get an entire army drunk.

With the crew that’s coming, I know we’ll need it.

“What can I get you, sir?” A bubbly girl with a pearly white smile and bright eyes bounces up to me. An actress, no doubt. Fresh off the bus from Kansas or some other flyover state. She’s still got that hopeful fresh-faced look that any significant amount of time spent in L.A. would’ve already beaten out of her.

“Whiskey. Neat.”

“Any particular brand? We’ve got like a million of ’em.”

“Surprise me.”

“Will do!” She flashes me another megawatt smile and bounces away.

I decide she was captain of her high school cheerleading team. Miss Small Town Popularity, f*****g the homecoming king and dreaming of making it big in Hollywood.

By the time she hands me my drink a few moments later, I’m depressed. I want to take her by the shoulders, shake her, and tell her to get her ass back on a bus to her hometown before she winds up bitter and middle-aged, waiting tables in a dive bar on the strip and wondering where her youth went.

It’s not like I haven’t seen it a million times before. They say New York City is a hard town to make it in, but at least it’s got soul. L.A.’s a wasteland where everything looks good on the surface, but it’s all rotten underneath.

Or maybe I’ve just been here too long. All the sun has baked what’s left of my brain.

I down the whiskey and motion to the perky Miss Popularity for another.

When Brody and Grace walk into the kitchen, I decide it’s getting a little crowded and head to the john. I splash water on my face and wash my hands, still preoccupied by the odd coincidence of Grace’s dream about the dragonfly.

But I don’t believe in coincidences. Things happen in the order they’re supposed to, for the reason they’re supposed to, even if we don’t know what that reason is. I decide to stay open, like Grace said, and see what comes of it.

When I pull open the bathroom door, Miss Small Town Popularity is standing right in front of me.

“Oh!” She jerks her hand away from the door handle. Her eyes go wide. “Sorry! I didn’t know anyone was in there!”

“Nothing to apologize for. I was just coming out.” I step aside. She gives me a flirty little smile as she passes, holding eye contact as she closes the door.

I chuckle. She’s too young for my taste, but it looks like Kenji was right about the vest.

“Bro! There you are!”

I turn and see Ethan and Chris coming through the front door, accompanied by a curvy brunette with breasts so large her little black dress is having trouble keeping them in. She’s in between the two men. Each has an arm slung around her shoulders. Her arms are wrapped around their waists.

The keyboardist and bassist for Bad Habit have a tendency to share everything. Judging by the body language here, I’m guessing their big-breasted companion is no exception.

All smiles, the three of them approach. The guys are dressed like twins, in white T-shirts and ripped jeans, their wrists sporting chunky watches and leather cuffs. Both have full sleeve tattoos and a two-day growth of beard. Ethan, interestingly, has scratches down one side of his face. Then I notice Chris has scratches on his neck. I suppress a smile.

Looks like their new girlfriend has some sharp claws on her.

“Hiya, kids. How we doing?”

Ethan disentangles himself from the busty brunette and grabs me in a bear hug. “I’m still fuckin’ mad at you for leaving, you d**k,” he says gruffly, pounding me on the back. “Who’s gonna watch my six?”