Page 7 of Diva Pop

Silas was set to make a remark about the lackluster invite, then decided it might backfire. He sensed that Jett’s nerves were still raw and exposed after the unexpected turn of events that day.

Right as he set foot in the already-lit marble foyer, the lights went on in the enormous, sunken living room. The entire area was carpeted in a pale mauve, plush carpet and an idle thought passed through Silas’ mind where he wondered whether Jett had picked out the carpeting or it had come with the house.

As far as the furnishings went, they matched the style of the home, although Silas sensed they were more recent versions rather than originals. The simple lines of the two long, white couches and the atomic age chrome and glass coffee table were reminiscent of mid-century design, but not exact.

The rest of the decor stayed within the same color palette. Silk throw pillows and glass objects d’ art were either white, mauve or gray. The occasional touch of black helped define some of the pieces and tied in with the framed black and white art photos of famous ballet dancers.

Silas didn’t advance any farther into Jett’s space. Even though he’d already been given entry, taking this peek into Jett’s private world seemed too intrusive without a clear invitation.

“Well?” Jett extricated himself from the crossbody purse then tossed it onto one of the couches. He then supported himself with one hand on the back of the sofa and began toeing off the boots. “Are you coming in, or do you plan to continue lurking at the front door?”

Silas frowned. “Watch your tone.”

He advanced into the living area, but kept his eyes trained on Jett’s. By the time Silas reached the first couch, Jett had dropped his gaze. He might feel compassion for Jett, but he wasn’t going to be disrespected.

Jett combed his fingers through his tousled hair. Silas couldn’t determine whether it was artfully mussed or had come loose after a vigorous night of… Silas pressed his lips together. He wasn’t about to let himself become irrationally jealous over someone he had zero connection with.

Jett cleared his throat. “So, uh…something to drink?”

The Mr. Charmer act was back in play with Jett strolling across the room, hips rolling, until he reached the built-in bar that only a house that hailed from the sixties could provide. Mirrored tiles with splashes of gold made up the back wall behind the laminated bar top and the decanters and cocktail glasses screamed Mad Men.

However, as Jett held up one of the glass tumblers, Silas was brought back to the present. Part of that present was that the last thing he needed to be doing was downing any more liquor while alone with Jett in his home.

“No, thank you.” He gave Jett a warm smile, hoping he could help soften the tension between them. “I had a few earlier, so I think I’ve hit my quota for the night.”

Jett shrugged then started pouring a clear liquid from one of the bottles into a martini shaker. If Silas had to guess, he’d put his money on vodka.

“Suit yourself. It’s still early for me.” Jett retrieved a bucket from what Silas assumed was a mini fridge beneath the bar counter, then plucked a few cubes and added them to the shaker. “I’ve got bottled water, too.”

Silas shook his head. “No, thanks.”

Jett capped the stainless-steel container then gave it a hearty shake, one corner of his mouth quirking into a smile. “So, if you’re not here to fire me, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jett poured his mixture into a martini glass, added a bit of olive juice, then after putting on quite the show of spearing two olives then slowly sucking the juice off his finger, he took a dainty sip and batted his eyelashes.

Had Silas been there as a Daddy, and a man, he would’ve appreciated the contrived performance for what it was. An insecure boy who happened to be overly aware of how potent his sexual charms were.

Silas grunted to himself. Actually, he did appreciate them, but heaven help him if he were to fall prey to the allure. Being in Jett’s space suddenly seemed too dangerous, as reckless as Jett allowing himself to be too accessible.

“I want to make sure you’re okay after everything that went down earlier.”

Jett’s eyes darted away, and he fixed his stare somewhere at the other end of the room. His sip this time was much less dainty and lasted a lot longer. He set down his glass, his hand fluttering as he randomly fussed with the barware.

“Well… I’m all right, I suppose.” He lifted his gaze. “Especially if I’m not fired.”

For a moment, Silas thought they were about to come to an accord, that Jett was going to lighten up with him, be more open.

The moment passed.

Jett narrowed his eyes. “But that was pretty low bringing those two dancers to the meeting. Whose idea was that? Yours? You could’ve warned a girl first. Also, I’m still against the addition of new members. But if we are going to have new members, then the original members should choose. Not you.”

Silas nodded slowly. He’d been expecting push back on that issue. “Fair enough, but here’s the situation. My job as manager means that the hiring and firing of members is a part of my many responsibilities. It’s what the label expects.” Silas jerked his head toward the living room. “Mind if we sit down?”

Jett didn’t answer but made his way to the sofa closest to the bar. Silas made a point of taking the other one. He didn’t miss Jett’s frown.

Jett drained the rest of his glass then placed it on the table. “You were saying?”

Silas eased back against the sofa, resting one arm across the top of the piece of furniture and letting his legs fall open a bit. Jett was desperately trying to keep the upper hand with his bratty attitude and sexual posturing, but Silas intended to convey to Jett he wasn’t rattled by his behavior.

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