Page 10 of Filthy Sweet

“Not quite yet,” I answer, glancing around and praying that Reggie will show up soon so I can relax into my quiet sidekick role. “How’s work?”

“Fine,” he answers. “Chill. Phoenix Sunset is resting before they leave for tour next week, and Kissing Dirt is busy writing songs.”

“Cool,” I say. I’m not entirely sure I understand what his job is, except that Fox seems to know which bands will be popular before they’re popular. “I love Kissing Dirt, by the way,” I add, referencing one of the bands he works with, a dreamy pop rock band that I often put on when I’m driving around.

“Yeah,” Fox agrees. “They’re fucking awesome.” He sips his drink again. “What’s the plan tonight? You looking for a boyfriend or just a hookup?”

“Um, I’m not sure?” I answer. “Boyfriend eventually, for sure. But maybe just dancing tonight?” I realize how clueless I am in this regard. “One day, I want a boyfriend,” I add, and it sounds depressingly pathetic out loud.

Fox chuckles. “Boyfriend goals, but not totally opposed to a hookup. Got it.”

“Maybe I am ready for a drink.” I step over to the bar beside him.

“Excuse me,” a random, shirtless muscle man says, approaching us abruptly. He looks from me quickly to Fox, then drags his eyes up and down Fox’s body with a cocky smile. “I spotted you on the dance floor. You’re that music executive, right? The Phoenix Sunset guy?”

Fox frowns and turns to me. “I’m here with a friend,” he says, holding my eye. His slate gaze captures me, like a spell, and I weakly nod, my body all tingly.

“Well I’m here all by myself.” The guy presses his body toward Fox. “But the night doesn’t have to end that way.”

Fox growls softly, annoyed, and despite the fact that a very attractive man is offering himself up, he barely reacts. “I said I’m with someone,” he repeats sternly.

My breath gets stuck. I know he’s just trying to turn this stranger down, but it feels like he’s claiming me, and I’m instantly drunk on the pleasure of that.

The guy furrows his brow, frustrated. “Whatever,” he grumbles and walks away.

Fox leans back on the bar. “Thanks for giving me an easy out. Guess I shouldn’t tell the men here that you’re taken, though, huh?”

I laugh. “Oh, I’m definitely not trying to go home with that guy.”

“Not your type?”

“I’m looking for someone a little less intimidating. And maybe not so many muscles.”

Although a Fox amount of muscles would be totally fine.

“There you guys are,” Reggie says, appearing from the growing crowd and interrupting our moment.

“You’ve been here?” Fox asks.

“That bathroom line,” he says, nodding toward the back of the club. “It was like everyone wanted to talk to me. Anyway, what are you both waiting for?” His smile grows wide. “Let’s dance.”

* * *

FOX

I almost forgot how much Reggie loves to dance, and watching my friend bounce his butt and throw his shoulders around like a big oaf, I chuckle to myself.

The Lavigne brothers sure got some special moves.

A twink with blue hair brushes past me, trying to get my attention, but I don’t react.

I nod my head with the music, not really dancing. Owen wiggles his hips across from me, looking down like he’s trying to figure out how to move, but still managing to keep the beat. The dance floor is getting crowded, but we’ve found a spot off to the side where Reggie has enough space to do his thing.

Owen looks at me and tilts his head, the disco lights flashing off his glasses. “Are you not having fun?” he asks over the speakers. “You’re not dancing.”

“I’m good.” I point up. “It’s not really my kind of music.”

Reggie cups his hands over his mouth and hollers. “He’s a music snob.”

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