Yvonne chuckled. “You did yell at him and try to embarrass him with the peanut butter and jelly stuff. That’s not true, is it?”
I rolled my eyes. “No, it’s not true.” But she was right. I had antagonized him.
“You should make it true. I’d roll in a bathtub of jelly with that man.”
Slipping the card into my purse, I shrugged. “Impossible. His ego would take up the whole tub. No room for jelly. Or me—I mean you.”
“You’re not the least bit curious to find out what he wants to pay you to do?”
“Considering how that sounds, nope. Not at all. Ooh, look, the line is moving. Yay.”
But as the girls turned to move with the line, I knew I was lying.
I was so curious, my heart still raced from my encounter with Rafe.
Chapter Three
River’s Bar, in my neighborhood on Staten Island, had an energy my friends and I enjoyed. Vibrant but laid-back. Industrial meets boho. There was Edison bulb lighting, wrought-iron barstools and bistro sets, comfortable sofa seating in mismatched fabrics with wooden coffee tables. Every Friday night there was live music and on Saturdays they played an eclectic mix of music that didn’t grate on the ears and was good to dance to.
I’d lived in the St. George area for the last few years, choosing to rent a tiny studio apartment because it was what I could afford. It wasn’t in the best locale, but my neighborhood was what they called “up-and-coming.” It was heading in what I hoped was a cool, artsy direction. There was already a great food scene. The major theater for Staten Island was in St. George, and there was a heavy metal scene in the neighborhood too.
My friends Roger, Kendall, and Jude had convinced me to move to Staten Island. I met my three closest friends when I worked as a bartender at a drag show and Roger’s friend Adam had his bachelor party there.
Roger, a music producer who worked with Adam at the same studio, had attended and been completely enamored with me on a purely platonic level. And I with him. We shared the same sunny, optimistic outlook on life but with that contradictory dry, sarcastic wit, a combination that confused most people. He was kind of like my big brother.
With Roger came Kendall, an independent graphic designer and artist, and Jude, a full-time book editor and part-time writer for an online lifestyle magazine.
The three of them were in a long-term polyamorous relationship that made them happier than any three people I’d ever met in my life. Although sometimes it was hard to tell Jude was happy, but I knew him well enough to know that the big softy adored Roger and Kendall.
“Ooh, I’m likin’ River’s new signature cocktail.” Kendall did a little shimmy in her seat, her short, dark curls bouncing with the movement.
I sipped at my beer as Jude slid his arm around the back of Kendall’s chair, a fond smile on his face. “Let me try.”
“You hate vodka,” she reminded him.
“But you make it look so good.”
I turned to Roger to see his reaction and found him studying me.
I tensed. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
My best friend nodded slowly. “A secret.”
“A secret?”
“Yeah. Why else would you be so quiet this evening? You’ve barely said a word.”
“We’ve been here all of ten minutes.”
“And by now, you’ve usually regaled us with something funny that happened at work.” His dark eyes searched mine. “Did something not funny happen at work?”
Roger was one of those extremely observant people who noticed everything and genuinely cared too. I often pondered the fact that this facet of his personality helped keep the harmony between him, Jude, and Kendall. If one of them was unhappy about something, Roger could usually tell and sought to fix it.
I didn’t think Roger could fix my problem.
Rafe Whitman.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to get the vet off my mind since we’d run into each other yesterday. His card was burning a hole in my purse.
I launched into my tale about the birthday party and yesterday outside the Apple store.
While there was some laughter, Jude scowled when I told them about Rafe’s attitude toward my jobs.
“Forget about him,” Jude advised, once I’d finished. “Don’t call him.”
Roger’s ginger brows furrowed. “Why?”
“Because Star doesn’t need some rich asshole filling her head with his toxic attitude.”
I looked at Kendall. She wore an uncertain smile on her pretty face as she shrugged. “I’m on the fence.”
Jude sighed. “What is it about bad boys that turns intelligent people into hormone-driven fools?”
She shoved him playfully. “Hey, you were a bad boy.”
“Exactly. I’m speaking from experience. I was once that asshole that walked all over people and they let me. Don’t call him, Star.”
“I’m not sure he’s a bad boy.” I really wasn’t. While Rafe was unpleasant, I didn’t think that translated to bad boy.
Roger smirked at his boyfriend. “I took a chance on you even though I knew you were an asshole back then, and look how that turned out.”
Jude frowned, but there was humor in his beautiful dark brown eyes. “I’m an anomaly. Reformed bad boys don’t happen often.”
“Again, I’m not sure Rafe Whitman is a bad boy. He’s just a snob.”
“A snob who turns you on?” Roger teased.
“Only when he doesn’t open his mouth.”
Kendall snorted into her drink.
“I say call him,” Roger announced, reaching for my purse.
“Surprise, surprise,” Jude murmured.
“What? Everyone deserves a second chance.”
“Technically, this would be his third.” I took another swig of my beer.
“Oh, just call him. Aren’t you curious to know what he wants to hire you to do?”
“I swear, if it’s for sex, I’ll kill him,” Jude practically snarled.
“It’s not for sex,” I assured him. “I’m not exactly his type.”
Jude looked affronted. “You’re everyone’s type. If I weren’t taken, I’d have tried to seduce you a million times already.”
Kendall nodded in agreement, and I glowed at the compliment. My friends sure knew how to boost a lady’s confidence.