Since becoming successful in my career, I’d not really had a girlfriend that I spent time with beyond the reach of social media. It sounded terrible to say, but I feared women who tried to befriend me were doing so in the hope of gaining an increased social media presence, or for financial gain.

I’d seen it happen too many times with other celebrities to question whether my fears were justified or not. Due to those reservations, George had become my closest friend. Nothing, however, could match the joy of having a female companion.

Andy picked up a piece of sushi with her chopsticks, dipped it into her soy sauce, and poked it into her mouth. “This place is awesome.”

“I love that word,” I said.

“Which one?” she asked.

“Awesome. It’s one of my all-time favorite words.” I chose a piece of sushi, paused, and looked at her.

She was beautiful, curvaceous, and had curly hair and perfect olive-colored skin. I had straight hair, sticks for legs, and was so pale-skinned that I should be the one with the nickname Ghost.

I wasn’t envious of her, I simply wanted there to be things we had in common with one another. A common thread that we shared between us beyond having bikers for boyfriends.

“Let’s say you’re at a buffet, and there’s all this food. Some of it is good, and some of it is so-so, and then there’s one that is just perfect. What word would you use to describe the perfect one?” I asked.

“I don’t eat at buffets,” she said. “They’re a breeding ground for bacteria, and you don’t know where they get their food. I like places like this that make food fresh and don’t use preservatives.”

“Okay. You’re at an all-you-can-eat sushi bar. And the itamae sets six different items in front of you. One stands out as being miles ahead of the rest in flavor. What one word do you use to later describe it to your friends. Good? great? Best? Fantastic? You know, something like that?”

“I’d say it was awesome, why?”

“I just love that word.”

She smiled. “I like it, too.”

At that moment, I decided Andy and I could be great friends. She was a property manager, which I found fascinating. She didn’t bother me about my job, ask a bunch of questions about my income, or even ask where I lived, for that matter.

She simply enjoyed shopping with me and getting a bite to eat.

“How’d you meet Ghost,” she asked.

Porter and I had talked about it and decided to tell everyone we met while he was getting his CAT scan for his head injury. It was as close to the truth as we could get without telling an out-and-out lie.

“I met him when he hurt himself at the gym,” I said.

“Oh,” she said. “At the gym?”

“No. At the hospital.”

She looked puzzled. “Oh.”

“How did you and Baker meet?” I asked.

The corners of her mouth curled up. “Well, he stays in Old Town, in a three-story building that attaches to every other three-story building on that block. So, it was on my first day as the property manager of the building that attaches to his, and he came up to see if we had any condos to rent, short-term. He said he needed it for a temporary home while his was being worked on. Personally, I think it was a ploy. A few minutes later we went up to look at a space I had for rent. He looked the space over, we hit it off, and that was pretty much it.”

I liked hearing how people got together. “How’d you guys start dating?”

She reached for a piece of sushi. “When he looked at the property.”

I felt that I must have missed something. “So, he looked at the property, and then what?”

She scanned the restaurant, and then leaned forward. “He, like, ripped off my cloths and bent me over the kitchen countertop.”

I slapped my hand on the countertop. “Get outta here. Seriously?”

She gave the Brownie salute. “Dead serious.”

“Oh. Wow. That’s pretty awesome.” I set my chopsticks aside. “Porter and I had been out a few times, and then he took me for a piece of pecan pie at some cute little town up north.”

“Julian Pie Company?” she asked.

“Yep, that’s it. Have you been there?”

She nodded. “We ride up there all the time. I love the pie. The Rhubarb is awesome. Add a scoop of cinnamon-vanilla ice cream and it’s scrumptious.”

“So, that Kimberly girl. What’s she like? Is she fun, too?”

“She is the best,” she said. “She doesn’t talk much at first, but once she starts, look out. She’s so funny. Her husband, Cash? His mother’s Irish. Like, Irish as F. She has this accent, it’s like she’s not even speaking English. She always says Irish sayings and stuff. They’re a riot to listen to. Kimberly and Cash arguing about flowers, which, by the way, he knows nothing about. And Erin, Cash’s mom, arguing about everything and sneaking drinks of whiskey from under the desk. It’s hilarious. You’ve got to go to the nursery.”

“I’d love to.”

“Seriously, we should go some time. It’s better than going to the movies.”

“OhmyGod,” I shouted. “Listen to this. We went to the movies, and there’s this guy, Luke Westham, and he--”

“The football player?” she asked.

“Yeah. He’s such a psycho,” I blurted. “So, anyway. He stalked me for a while, and I blocked him on Facebook, and on everything else sand--”

“Luke Westham is a stalker?”

“Yeah, but don’t tell anybody.”

She did the Brownie salute again. “I won’t.”

“Okay. So, we went in the movies, and that creep was in there. He looked at me and was like, oh my God, how have you been? And I was like, uhhm, go away, creep. So, he walked up and grabbed my arm. Porter punched him like ten times in two seconds and knocked him out cold. And everyone gathered around and said, oh my God, you knocked out Luke Westham. And Porter said, who the fuck’s Luke Westham? It was the best thing, ever.”

She laughed. “Baker pinched a guy’s throat in Target one night. At first, I didn’t know what to think, and then I decided it’s nice having a guy stick up for me.”

“Like, pinched his skin?” I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t get it.”

“No. He grabbed his windpipe or whatever. You know, pinched it. The guy was looking down my shirt. I had on this top that I loved, but I hated it too, because it creeps up in the back and down in the front, and it had creeped way down. In the front. The guy was staring into my cleavage. Baker made sure he knew not to do it again.”

Kelvin wouldn’t have hurt a fly, nor would he have stuck up for me in a similar situation. Having someone who was willing and able to do so, even if they didn’t ever do it, was a good feeling.

“I like these guys,” I said. “They’re all pretty nice.”

“They’re basically brothers,” she said. “They all moved here from Montana after high school. They’re inseparable.”

“I like it. It’s like a big family.”

“Exactly,” she said. “That’s exactly what it’s like. A huge family. Barbeques. Trips on the motorcycles together. Racing cars at the racetrack. Just hanging out. Now, you’re part of it. Do you like to ride?”

“On the motorcycle?”

“Uh huh.”

“I love it,” I said. “Love, love, love it.”

“Me, too.”

It was crazy. My life had gone from great to awesome after meeting Porter. I was in love, which I never thought was going to happen. I had a new girlfriend who wasn’t an attention whore, and the possibility of having another who had a nursery and a funny Irish mother-in-law.

I’d spoken to my parents about Porter, but not at length. I needed to do just that, and to schedule a time for Porter and I to go visit them.

“Have you met Baker’s parents?” I asked.

“They’re not alive any longer,” she said.

“Oh. Has he met yours?”

Her face went solemn. “They’re both deceased. I was raised by my aunt.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

She put on a slight smile. “Has Ghost met yours?”

I’d talked to my mother at length about Porter, but not my father. I suspected my mother may have mentioned him to my father, but she hadn’t said one way or another. I remained nervous about revealing the news to my father, as I knew he’d react unfavorably.

“Not yet,” I said. “But he’s going to.”

“They’ll like him,” she said. “He’s pretty to look at. Parents like pretty boys.”

I’d never really thought of him that way, but he was pretty. My mother would love him. My father? Well, that was a different story altogether.