Page 87 of Fun and Games
"How are Connor and Quinn?" I asked carefully.
I remembered the last time the subject of Mason's friends had come up. That was when he'd gone off on his wholemonogamy is a lieandrelationships never lastsermon.
But in the end, he'd admitted that maybe he did believe in true love after all.
"They're good," Mason said. "Still madly in love." He let out a snort, but there was a fond smile on his face. It was nothing like the skeptical derision he'd expressed the last time he'd talked about them. My heart lifted at that fond look.
"I'm glad," I said. "They're really cute together. He's clearly crazy about her."
I was glad to see Mason didn't look put out at that thought.
"Let's invite them for another trivia night," I said. "Girls against guys this time."
"I do like watching your big, sexy brain at work," Mason said.
"If my intelligence is such a turn on, maybe I should start solving quadratic equations in front of you."
"That's hot," Mason grinned.
* * *
Thunderclouds began to roll in, so we called it a day and started packing up to head out. On the way out of the dog park Mason's phone buzzed with a text from Grant.
"I need to stop at the bar before taking Lucky back home," Mason said as he checked the text. "Shouldn't take long."
It wasn't a long walk, and the weather held, although the dark clouds looked ominous. When we got to the bar, there was a guy waiting outside. Ripped, black jeans, chains hanging from his belt and black-tipped nails. He was one of Mason's rocker musician friends, if I guessed correctly.
"Hey Steve," Mason said as he and the guy shook hands and clapped each other on the back in a half-hug the way guys did. "It's been a while. How's it going?"
"Going good," the guy, Steve, replied. I didn't recognize his face, so he wasn't mega-famous the way Cerise Moreau was, but he could have been one of those indie musicians.
"How's your brother?" Mason asked. "Last I heard, he'd gotten into med school?"
Steve stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded.
"He's a smart kid," he replied. "And you're doing good? You like this bar gig?"
"Beats the hell out of babysitting you assholes," Mason smirked, punching his friend on the shoulder. His friend returned it with a brief smile of his own. "Seems like it's been forever since we've hung out," Mason continued.
"Yeah, life's gotten busy, you know how it is." Steve leaned into Mason as if divulging a secret. "So listen. Word on the street is that one of your bigwig exec friends is coming to your bar next Saturday."
Mason's face fell eerily blank.
"I was thinking, maybe you could let us play a set?" Steve tried to sound casual, but there was an insistent desperation behind the words. "We've been looking for our big break for a while now. This could be it, you know? We just need a little boost."
"Right," Mason said, his expression flat.
"So can we count on you?" Steve asked.
"You know there's a booking process to go through," Mason said. "I can't just slot you in ahead of the other acts."
"A single set," Steve said persistently. "That's all I'm asking. Can't you do a favor for a friend?"
Mason's lips firmed. "Sure, man." His voice was flat. "I'll put you in for Saturday."
A relieved smile broke out on Steve's face.
"You're the fucking best," he said with a hearty slap on Mason's back. "The band is going to flip their shit."
