Feeling better, I make a beeline for the open bar, grab a stool and put down roots. A gorgeous man wearing only scandalously tight leather pants and a bow tie gives me a wide, toothy grin.
“What can I do for you?” he asks in that way that implies he’s not talking about serving drinks, and I can’t help but smile back.
“Vodka and lemon?”
He gives me a wink then spins away, grabs an expensive-looking bottle off the shelf, and starts mixing.
It’s hypnotic, like watching him dance.
No doubt that’s the reason Melinda hired him.
He slides the drink over with a flourish and I thank him, feeling a very girlish giggle bubbling up when he winks again and flashes me his white-toothed grin.
I’m relieved when he moves off to serve someone else. I’m too old for giggling and crushes. And besides, I have a boyfriend!
Just as I take a sip of the most perfect vodka and lemon of my life, I look up to see Damon taking the stool beside me.
“Hey,” he says, shooting me with a finger gun. “It’s Cinderella!”
I make a face at him. “And you must be the unfortunate artist.”
He puts a hand over his chest and mocks a broken heart, making me laugh.
“For the record, I’m a director.”
My eyes widen. “Anything I might have seen?”
He sighs dramatically. “Probably not. When I say I’m a director, I mean aspiring director. I mainly do short films and a few ads.”
“Everyone has to start somewhere. You never know which creation will be the one that catches on.”
“Everyone in my family is driven by success and money. That’s all they care about. But directing is more than that for me. It is about creating something to entertain others.”
I nod. “Spoken like a true artist.”
“An unsuccessful one, at least.” He smiles.
“As long as you’re doing what you love.” I take another sip of my drink. “That’s all that really matters in the end. As long as you feel like you are gaining something out of it and you’re not just doing it to impress others.”
He nods in agreement and fixes me with a more inquiring gaze. “So, a programmer?”
“Well, yeah, that’s how I made money, but I was mainly an app designer.”
“Was?”
I tell him about the app I designed and its crazy success and eventual sale.
I’m surprised to feel a lump forming in my throat when I get to the part where the contract stated that I couldn’t work in app design for another three years.
“Really!” He gapes at me. “I know that app. I use it all the time. And you made those other ones…” He scratches his chin as though remembering. “The workout apps for like running and biking through the post-apocalyptic worlds.”
“Guilty,” I reply and feel a flush of pride at the awe in his expression.
“So what are you doing now?”
My momentary high sinks back into my feet.
I’m suddenly feeling trapped by his attention.
Seconds ago he thought I was someone interesting. How do I tell him I’ve been doing nothing whatsoever for the last six months?
“Well I… I’ve been sort of just taking a break,” I say.
I’ve been sitting on my butt waiting for my absent boyfriend to have time to play with me.
Wait.
Is that what I’ve been doing?
The thought came out of nowhere but it makes sense. Before I can brood further Damon is talking again.
“Three years – no contest agreement. That’s got to suck.”
The words are so correct that I laugh out loud, slapping a hand over my mouth.
“Yeah. That says it all,” I reply.
“I don’t know if I could do it. I don’t know if I could give away doing what I love just for an amount of money.”
“It was good business sense,” I defend my decision.
“According to who?”
Suddenly it all spills out.
I can’t stop the words – they’re just all coming like they’ve been sitting just behind my consciousness, waiting for someone to notice them.
It’s like a dam breaking.
I tell him about my passion for creating interfaces that connect people to my creations but also to each other, and I tell him about the nothingness that was left when I signed that contract.
At the time, it wasn’t even a choice.
It was just good business.
Signing the contract meant I never had to work again if I didn’t want to.
But who am I if I’m not doing what I love, if I’m not following my passion?
Damon listens, and it’s like he really understands what I’m saying.
He tells me about his father wanting him to go to law school and take over the family firm. He talks about how he went there but it felt like it wasn’t him.
“I realized that it didn’t matter what other people want me to do or what I ‘should’ do. Sitting in lectures, listening to people talk about things that I didn’t care about, it made me feel dead inside.”
“I know that feeling well,” I whisper.
“One lecture, when they were talking some old case that set a precedent back in 1895, I knew it was over. I knew that I couldn’t do it anymore. I knew I had to follow my heart and do what I loved.”
I feel such a strong connection with Damon.
And it’s not like the connection I feel with Kaden.
With Kaden, our connection is woven thick with longing and sexual chemistry.
With Damon, it’s a connection I’ve never shared with anyone besides Olivia.
I can’t help noticing the way he and the sexy bar man exchange a knowing smile and when he looks back at me, he brings a finger to his lips. I nod to let him know that his secret is safe with me.
“I’m going to give you something,” he says and pulls a card out of his wallet and writes on the back.
Is he asking me out?
“My friend Carmen owns an up-and-coming game company and they’re looking for good people. It’s small but they have some interesting ideas, and Carmen knows what she’s doing.”
I’m about to interrupt but he waves me off.
“It’s console – not mobile or tablets – so it won’t break your contract. You might find the new medium a challenging shift but...” He gives me a knowing smile. “I don’t think that will be a problem for you.”
He holds the card up and flips it expertly between his fingers to show his photo and details on the front and then he hands it to me.
A sneaky way to give me his phone number…