“Your eyelashes.”
Faise said nothing, but his eyes widened. He stared at me like I’d lost my mind.
“They’re like, beautiful or something,” I continued.
Beautiful? WTF? Shut up, Ronin. Stop talking.
I tended to blather when I was nervous. And holy fuck, since when did I care about shit like people’s eyelashes? Obviously, Faise wasn’t the only one who needed to relax. He shook his head and turned away. Thankfully, ignoring my inane chatter.
The limo came to a sudden stop a few minutes later.
When the back door opened, we stepped out, and were greeted by Greg. The CEO of our label owned houses in Nashville, LA, and New York, to name a few, and he was a big deal in entertainment circles. Still, he was a corporate suit, and we were definitely not.
“Come on in, guys, everyone’s dying to meet you,” Greg announced. “Including my wife.”
“Which one?” Brodie quipped.
Greg’s face flushed, but he shook his head and motioned to the front door of his mega mansion. Van and Brodie headed up first, me, Holls, and Faise following.
Van gave Brodie an arm squeeze in warning. Brodie looked over his shoulder and gave us a wicked grin.
Faise stepped up ahead of me, and for some reason, my eyes were glued to his slim form, catching on his tight ass in those jeans.
Until Holloway nudged me and started talking. I was grateful for the distraction. My eyes had no business following my BFF like that. It was probably just frustration. I needed to get laid.
We entered the Spanish style house, and the boom of music and chatter filled the air. Greg guided us into the living space and introduced us to his wife (number three as it turned out), and several famous musicians and actors.
The booze was top notch and there was also plenty of drugs available. It was LA after all, and no party here would be without. Faise scored some coke, and we all took a hit. After a long-ass plane ride, the kick of energy was welcome.
“Thank fuck,” Faise muttered and wiped his nose. “Now I’m good.”
Faise had outgrown most of his shyness, but occasionally, in social situations, it still reared up. Not that I could blame him. It was weird to go from being anonymous to a face people recognized everywhere we went. Add to that, the barrage of media, which was something we were still getting used to.
I looked across the room and spotted a well-known TV actor headed our way.
“Fuck, is that—” I started.
“Yup, it’s Reed Larkin,” Holls whispered. “Wow, he’s hotter in person. And fuck, he’s coming over. To talk to us. Oh my God. Oh my God.”
Faise snorted. “Way to be cool, Holls.”
“I can’t help it.” Holls ran a hand through his hair. “I’m still not used to the celebrity thing.”
Brodie shook his head. “You’re one of them now. So, like Faise said, be cool.”
Reed walked right up to us and held out his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you guys. I’m a big fan of your music.”
Brodie thanked him and did the intros. We all got to talking about our favorite bands and then the Hollywood scene.
“Can I get you a refill?” He asked Faise.
Faise stared at his empty glass and nodded. “I’ll go with?”
Reed smiled at him, and yeah, the Hollywood actor was gorgeous. I watched my BFF wander off and a weird, unsettled feeling swirled in my gut.
“Looks like Faise is getting lucky tonight,” Brodie commented. “I better be next.”
“I think Van’s gonna beat you to it,” I replied and motioned to our manager with my drink. “That woman’s all over him.”