Very Twisted Things

Usually, I groan at Spider’s pick-up lines, but he was flirting to save my ass.

Everything zoomed out when I happened to glance across the restaurant and see V at a table near the window. I did a double take. She sat with Wilson and a thirtyish-looking man who was currently staring at V like she was his chocolate soufflé.

I inhaled sharply and jerked my eyes back. I didn’t want to cause any undue attention her way, but why was she here and who was she with? Wilson was fine—he was in his sixties—but the other guy …

Even from here, I could see that she looked beautiful. Her hair was wild as it fell on either side of her angular face. She’d gone heavy on the lipstick and mascara and it suited her. As I watched, she turned to Wilson and I got a load of what she was wearing—a slinky as hell silver top that plunged deep between her breasts. You could plainly see the curve of her tits … that I’d sucked and loved and held in my hands just three days ago. I felt my face go red with anger. One thing was certain, she’d evolved since the days when I’d perched on my patio and spied on her.

No more lonely girl who wore band shirts and ate cheese puffs and Oreos.

She laughed suddenly, the sound clear as a bell, and all the memories from the camping trip came back. She’d told me she loved me. And yeah, my chest had seized at the thought of saying it back—because first off, it would be a lie, and secondly, I had never said those words to a girl.

Since then, she hadn’t returned my texts, nor had she played her violin outside.

Yep. V was pissed at me. And she had no fucking right.

I glared at them. Then why was she in such a good mood when I was miserable? I sipped on my beer and pretended to eat as Spider and Vilma kept the interview going. I jumped in a few times, but mostly I let Spider handle it.

“… mate, you okay?” Spider’s voice penetrated my thoughts a while later.

I looked at his face, down at my half-eaten sandwich and at the empty chair next to him. “She’s gone?”

Shit, I was out of it.

He nodded. “I saw V, too, so I told Vilma we had another appointment—I’m meeting her for a drink later tonight. I told her I’d give her more scoop then.” He paused, flicking his eyes over at V. “You wanna get out of here? I’m itching for a cig.”

“Thanks for covering for me.”

He shrugged. “Consider it me saying I’m sorry for messing with Mila. You were right … I’m not boyfriend material. I can’t be good for a girl.” He cleared his throat, a surprisingly serious look on his face. “We never had sex, you know. Third base, yeah, and there was that time in the pool—”

“Stop right there.” I held up my hand. “Keep your dirty deeds to yourself. Just stay away from her unless you want to put a ring on it.” I stood up and tossed back the rest of my beer.

He stood and slipped on his blue leather jacket. “Okay. I’m headed to get a haircut. Steve’s holding a spot for me. You wanna go?”

“You go on. I’m going to say hi to V and Wilson.” And find out who that guy was.

Spider fidgeted. “Don’t make a scene, man.”

I reared back. “Holy shit, what alternate universe is this? You covered my ass at lunch, you did the right thing by ending it with Mila, and now you’re telling me to not make a scene? The guy who smashed up five guitars on stage last year alone?”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “I paid for those guitars and the crowd fucking loved it. You know girls fancy me when I get all beastly.”

I groaned. “Whatever. Tell Steve and his girls hi from me, and I’ll be in for a cut soon.”

He left and I headed over to V’s table.

I knew the moment she realized I was there, because her eyes flared wide and a flush started at the base of her throat and went all the way up.

I nodded at Mr. Wilson. An older man, I’d watched V come in and out of his house a few times when I’d been driving by, and I guess he was her only friend besides us.

Wilson indicated the brown-haired, suave-looking guy who sat next to V. “This is my son Mark Wilson, Sebastian.”

I reached over the table, shook hands, and exchanged pleasantries. Was my handshake super firm—to the point that he winced? Maybe.

“He works for Paramount as a studio head,” Wilson added proudly.

Perfect. Not only was he related to Wilson, but he was successful. I tried to not glower—or bare my teeth at him. It was hard because his eyes were glued to her breasts, and he was sitting too fucking close to her.

“Would you like to join us?” V asked. Her face was devoid of emotion, and I should have been glad about that—that she was okay with us—but instead it just made me more antsy.

I rubbed my mouth. “No, but thank you. I just ate actually. We had a lunch interview.”

“Oh. I hope it went well,” she said coolly and then sipped on a glass of water, her tongue darting out to lick the drops off her bottom lip.

My ribs got tight, and I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from losing it. I wanted her. Even here in this crowded restaurant.

How the hell were we supposed to just be friends?

“I hear you may be in the next Hing movie, Sebastian,” Mark said, and I swiveled my eyes to him. “It’s a rare musician who can convince that bastard to give them a chance.” He smiled.

I blinked. Was the asshole sincere? “Actually, I think Hing has gone in a new direction.” I shrugged to blow it off.