“I can imagine it’s tough working at the club, but Drew’s rules will help. Can’t drink on the job, can’t do drugs on the job. And now that I know your truth, I won’t try to convince you to do either behind boss man’s back. I’ve got you.”
His sincerity warms me. “I’m happy I met you.”
“Me too.” His mouth parts into a huge smile. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” he says in his best Bogart impersonation, and I can’t help but laugh.
“So, model and actor, eh?”
He groans. “I don’t know if you can call it that when I haven’t had any work in over a year.”
“Why? I’d think people would be lining up for you.”
“It’s a hard business to break into.”
I take a sip from my coffee and sigh at the bitter goodness. “How old are you?” I ask.
“A gentleman never tells.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not the saying.” I giggle.
“Since we’re friends and all, I’ll tell you my secret. I’m twenty-eight.” He mock-gasps. “Another reason the agents aren’t lining up at my door.”
“Twenty-eight is still young,” I assure him.
“Not for a struggling model. I’m well past my prime. Twenty-eight is only young to be a club owner. If only I had Drew’s unlimited funds.” He shakes his head.
“Drew Lawson is only twenty-eight? That is really young to own a club. How does someone come into something like that? Family business?”
“Nooooo. That’s a long story, but I will say this. He was a pretty hard party boy several years ago, and after some shit went down, he cleaned up, and he’s been on the straight and narrow ever since. He’s a good dude.” He sips his coffee and yawns.
“I need to hit the sack. I can hardly keep my eyes open,” I drawl out sleepily.
The bell on the diner door chimes, and a group of people come through, laughing animatedly. I turn to look over my shoulder, and the blood drains from my face. My head snaps forward, and my body slumps down into the booth.
“What’s up?” Carter asks, frowning at my strange reaction.
My eyes close, and I blow out a deep breath. “It’s my sister and her boyfriend.”
His brows lower over his eyelids. “And that’s a problem?”
“Yes, it’s four o’clock in the morning, and seeing as I used to be an addict . . . with a prosecuting attorney for a sister, this won’t look good.”
He clenches his teeth and grimaces. “So, basically she’s a mother hen?”
“Not usually, but that’s because I rarely leave my apartment.”
“Incoming,” he says, alerting me to her approach.
“Don’t mention the club,” I hiss under my breath, and somehow, he seems to understand.
The group passes by our table without incident. I throw money on the table and go to make a mad dash, but per my luck, Harper sits on the side of the booth facing me. When her eyes meet mine, they go wide before lasering in on the back of Carter’s head, then narrowing.
Fantastic. She thinks I’m up to my old habits.
“Bailey?” she questions, as though she’s not sure her eyes aren’t deceiving her.
I raise my hand awkwardly as three additional sets of eyes look upon me. Cal’s face pales, surely deducing why I’m here at this hour.
“Hey, Harp,” I call, and she stands, making her way toward us.
“What are you doing here, Bailey?” Her tone is sharp and accusatory. “Do you realize what time it is?”
“I could ask you the same question,” I bite with a frown, nodding my head toward my guest, hoping she’ll take the hint and not make an unnecessary scene. When her arms cross over her chest, I know she’s not backing down. “This is my friend, Carter,” I say, motioning to him. “I couldn’t sleep, and he invited me to grab breakfast with him.”
Carter stands, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he says, smiling wide. Harper’s frosty expression melts. She’s putty in his hands. Of course.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she says, head tilted to the side as she takes him in. “How did you two meet?”
My stomach sours as I attempt to concoct yet another lie in my head, but Carter jumps to my rescue again.
“I live close by. We became fast friends,” he says, taking a seat. “Bailey and I were just discussing her future plans. We were talking about different college options.”
I kick him under the table, and he yelps, but Harper’s beaming so bright, she doesn’t even notice. Does he have any idea what he’s done? Now, she’s going to nag me until I’m back in class.
“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” I say, through partially gritted teeth. “I need to make sure it aligns with my work schedule.”
“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Harper praises. “You know I’ll help you if it means you’re back in school.”