Page 111 of Lost Track

Dave frowned and paced back the way he’d come.

“You’re going to have microphones shoved in your faces all down the carpet. You haven’t done an interview sinceFlash Cachecame out and the entertainment sites are salivating over your appearance tonight.”

Dave’s stomach churned and his pulse picked up.

“I’m not trying to choose your friends. But you both need to be prepared for the assumptions that are going to happen when you show up together. I tried to prep her as best as I could over the phone. I think I could have made my point better had you brought her here when you came to town. But—I get it—I do. You need your space and to have as close to a normal life as possible. I’m not complaining. Your freedom means better music and that’s what I can sell. But we’re getting close to showtime and I need you to be prepared for what’s coming.”

Fuck.

He had a point.

“Now, if she’s a person of romantic significance to you we can make something work.”

“Please stop trying to force me into something.”

Curtis swallowed his protests and just settled for a loud grumble.

“We’re friends. End of story. She’s cool. You’ll see.” He held his palm out to Leslie for the ball. “I need to go. I’ll call you next week.”

He hung up without waiting for Curtis to reply and tossed his phone onto the table nearby.

Leslie passed the ball and they continued their one-on-one game.

* * *

“Are you ready, dimples?” He rested the back of his head against the wall and slid his hands into his pockets.

He loved what Catherine had come up with for him. Yes, it was a tuxedo, but she’d put her own brand of Sunshine on it.

Black pants, forest green jacket, black shirt, diamond encrusted bowtie, wingtip shoes.

It was so deliciously gangster.

He’d shaved his face smooth and gotten a haircut. Even he could admit he looked pretty ballin’.

He had no idea what Sabine had picked to wear. Catherine said she’d given her a couple choices that matched what Dave was wearing.

She’d also mentioned that Sabine had been a joy to dress and to call her for the next event.

That wasn’t surprising. He was figuring out that everyone loved Sabine as soon as they met her.

“I need help.” Sabine’s soft voice came through the door. He was reminded of the day they’d met. She needed help then too.

He decided then and there he always wanted to be in a position to help her.

He pushed away from the wall. “Well, come out here and I can help you.”

The door opened and for a minute he was stunned silent.

She stood before him in a silver floor-length gown that looked like it was made out of satin. Or pure liquid. Because it flowed and cascaded over every curve and slope of her body. It had thin, barely-there straps at her shoulder, and a plunging neckline that he stared at way longer than was polite. A thigh-high slit up the side showed her shapely legs. Her shoes were strappy silver numbers that made her several inches taller.

Her hair was down and in loose waves at her shoulders, and her makeup was smokey.

She had her arms behind her back.

“Oh my,” he said, doing another slow up and down.

That was it.

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