Page 88 of Bedhead

Had he gotten in his head during the shower? I hoped not. Just when I seemed to get through to him, his insecurities had resurfaced with a vengeance.

It was ironic, really, that I found myself playing the role of the reassuring one. If that was what it took to shake some sense into Drew’s head, then I had no problem doing it.

As I wandered through the party, I realized pretty quickly that the introvert in me wanted nothing more than to escape back to my room. Drew was so much better at this. He actually enjoyed the small talk and social aspects of the business that I struggled with. Back in college, he’d been the one to force me out of my strict box, and it had always been a joke that he’d never met a stranger.

I told myself that was likely all that had happened tonight. With all the famous names bumping into you every time you walked a foot, I had no doubt he was probably in heaven chatting up someone he’d seen in a movie he liked.

“Sweet cheese canapé?”

I turned to see a male server in nothing but a bow tie and an indecent pair of shorts carrying a tray of amuse-bouche, and had to school my face to neutral.

“Uh…did you say sweet cheese?” What kind of cheese wassweet? And what kind of uniform had Viper put the poor guy in?

Well, not poor—I mean, he was a good-looking guy working a celebrity party; he was doing better in life than most.

“It’s a mix of ricotta, brie, and goat cheeses topped with caramelized onions, honey, and fig. Halo’s favorite.”

Well, if it was good enough for a rock star, it was good enough for me.

I popped the small bite into my mouth, and as the incredible flavor hit my tongue, I reached for another. Drew had to try one of these.

As I scanned the room again, something fluorescent caught my eye, and I did a double take at seeing it was Levi’s electric-blue pants.

Wow. Drew should’ve worn those. Maybe I would’ve found him by now.

“Hey, Hudson, come here and meet my better half,” Levi called out over the music, waving me over.

As if I needed an introduction. I recognized the man holding his hand was the bassist from Fallen Angel, though he probably didn’t remember me.

“Hudson Montgomery, this is my husband, Killian Michaels. Kill, Hudson’s with Montgomery Publishing, one of the two companies vying to work with Viper.”

Killian’s dark brows shot up as he shook my hand. “Wait, I know you. Party crasher, right?

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well, nice to officially meet you, but man, do you have a death wish?”

“I’m sorry?”

He laughed and took a long swallow from the beer bottle he held between two fingers. “No offense, he’s like my brother, but Viper’s a fucking pain in the ass.”

“I’m sure you say thatbecausehe’s like a brother.”

Killian cocked his head, a wicked smile on his lips. “Tell you what. You look like a decent guy, so I’ll give you a word of advice: make sure whatever meetings you take, Halo’s there. When Viper’s in a pissy mood, he’s the only one who can slap him back to reality.”

“Seriously?”

They both nodded, and Levi added, “Oh yeah. Seriously.”

“I’ll make sure to do that. Thank you.”

“No problem. Just remember that when he shit-talks me in the book. Go easy.”

I laughed, liking the guy already. “Will do.”

Levi gestured to the canapé in my hand. “You gonna eat that or save it for later? I don’t think they’ll run out.”

“Actually, I wanted Drew to try it. Have you seen him?”

---