Page 21 of Frog Hog

Chapter Ten

Valen

It’s raining in Virginia Beach. I don’t really mind it too much. It’s a nice change from San Diego’s relentless sunshine. I spent normal business hours in the office of my client going over protocol with the new company owners and bouncing ideas off their in-house IT guy. It was a successful day and now I’m holed up in my hotel room that overlooks the ocean. It’s gray and awful outside.

I have a friend who lives here, but she already had plans for dinner and I declined to be a third wheel. It’s my fault. I waited until the last minute to call her. The curse of a new relationship. Everything else takes a backseat. I spoke with Hutch when I got off work so I can’t call him again lest he think I’m a needy bitch. He’s on another work trip.

His meeting with Greer went well. It was like a tornado meeting a hurricane—in the best way possible. They got along famously and I think they plotted on the best way to tame a Valen. They’re allies now, and while it disturbed me for a little while, all anyone ever really wants is their best friend and their boyfriend to get along. Baz came as well and he minded his manners. It’s always sort of funny to watch people meet Greer for the first time. Especially if they’re fans. His eyes grew round and he took a while forming words as she shook his hand and introduced herself. It’s her laugh. It’s melodic. It catches people off guard in person. It’s a cyanide potion of beauty. You stop and stare.

Greer has that otherworldly quality most celebrities have, I’m not affected by it. Baz, I think, will die trying to date my best friend. He made it quite clear on the ride home that she was the only woman on the planet that could make his dick rise…ever again. It’s the laugh. I’m telling you. I dial Greer because thinking about her makes me miss her.

“You’re on speaker. I’m filming for Fallon and I’m in makeup.”

I groan. “Of course you are. You’re in a perpetual state of makeup and hair. When do you actually sing?”

Sighing she orders someone to bring her a water. “Well I’ll have to sing here in a bit, but I agree with you, Val. How is your trip?”

“Boring,” I reply. “Hutch couldn’t come. He had some work trip to go to and he doesn’t’ have wiggle room to travel with his lowly girlfriend.”

“Hey, hey. He’s defending our great nation. You can’t possibly fault him for that. It’s a busy job.”

“I don’t like it now that you’ve taken his side,” I mumble, pulling out the room service menu. “I’m going to order dinner up tonight. How pathetic is that?”

“I felt it. He has a good heart. I trust him,” Greer replies, except it’s muffled. They’re probably smearing something on her lips. “Plus, I can tell he fucks like a devil. My God. He looks at you with an intensity that gives me on-the-spot-orgasms.” Someone laughs in the background.

“I wish you wouldn’t talk about my sex life in front of strangers. Jesus. Why does everyone want to know about my sex life? I’m in a relationship now. Can’t that be closed? It should be anyways. My parents never talked about sexual escapades. Normal people aren’t so sexual.”

“I’m your best friend. It’s my job to make sure he’s pleasing you in the sack. I would never talk about your sex life in front of strangers. Pablo is around more than you are. Plus, he knows how to make me look twenty again.”

“Pablo didn’t see your glitter eyeshadow phase. I have photos, Greer. Tread carefully. Hutch is good at sex. Of course he is. You saw him. I can’t even think about him, fully dressed no less, without getting wet panties.”

Greer giggles. “That’s my girl. Yes. Now we’re talking. His friend, Baz was pretty cute.”

“Cute isn’t a word I’d use to describe Baz. Rogue. Grizzly. Muscled man-meat. Yes. I would have totally hogged him…if that was still my game.” He’s big. He has white, straight teeth, a ton of tattoos and a natural swagger that comes from deep within. Men in real life overcompensate for some shortfall by buying a fast car or a big truck. Men like Baz and Hutch don’t overcompensate by swagging around to prove a point, they’re that good and know it.

Sighing Greer replies, “I gave him my number and he hasn’t called yet.”Holy shit.

“I had no idea. Your real cell number?” I almost choke on the question. She never givesthatnumber to anyone. “He didn’t even mention it on the drive home. He was too busy singing your praises.”

“He was? I wonder why he hasn’t texted me.” Returning to that swagger. Maybe Baz is a touch too big for his britches. “Oh, well.”

My best friend claws come out. As soon as I hang up with Greer I’m going to call Hutch and have him give Baz a piece of my mind. When a woman gives you a number, you use it quickly. I hate the theory that want comes from waiting. Even if it does hold truth. “He said you were the only woman who would ever give him a boner again, Greer. Yes. He’s playing hard to get which is so unattractive.”

She clears her throat, some of her pride restored. For a superstar, she’s easily hurt when she puts herself out there. It’s not often she does so, either. “Why don’t you go to that place on the corner to eat? They have that bar where you can look outside while you eat and forget you’re alone,” Greer says, trying to combat the loneliness she hears in my voice.

“That’s a good idea. It stopped raining so I could walk there.”

“Pablo, can you hand me that water? My voice is scratchy. Ugh,” she rushes out. “I’ll call you later, Vale. Don’t get drunk by yourself.”

“Buzz killer. Fine. Have a good interview. Don’t say anything too dumb.”

She calls me a swear word while laughing before hanging up. I smile down at my phone. “Baz,” I mouth, frowning. “What a dick.”

My boots, the ones I reserve for trips back east are sitting next to the door. I slide on the tall, red boots and pull a loose beanie over my head and adjust my hair in the mirror next to my room entrance. I exit onto the street and head in the direction of the restaurant Greer mentioned. She met me here a couple of times when she was returning from London.

I text Hutch instead of calling. Texting is always the less annoying form of communication. You chose to answer when it’s convenient for you. Or you forget to altogether and feel like a complete asshole. I tell Hutch his friend is a jerk who needs to text Greer as soon as humanly possible. I think they’re together on this work trip, though he didn’t give me as many details as he usually does. Walking the few blocks is easy and once I’m surrounded by restaurants and people I’m glad I didn’t cave into room service. Hutch replies to my ranty text by sending a quick smiley face emoji.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I tilt my head as I consider the possibilities. Does he agree with me, or is he smarmy smiling because it’s his friend and I should get used to it? I send back the straight-faced emoji. The one with solid lines for eyes and mouth. The unimpressed leader of the emoji crew—my absolute favorite.

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