The blonde ignored her and maintained her focus on Tommy, while the brunette surrendered her glass of champagne and handed over the black dress she’d been carrying. “I’d like it in red as well,” she said. “You can send them both to my house. You know the address.”
The boutique owner was all fawning gratitude, but the woman had already moved on. As he neared the end of the song, he watched in amazement as she reached into her bag, slid a card from an engraved gold case, and flashed a sexy grin as she slipped the card into his pocket, then promptly left the boutique with her friend.
He watched them go, knowing he should be thrilled. And admittedly, part of him, most of him, was. It wasn’t the first time he’d been hit on by an older woman. Solo gigs were pretty much a magnet for that sort of thing. Though it was the first time he’d been hit on by two at one time.
Still, now that they’d gone, he wasn’t sure he was willing to follow through. Undoubtedly, it would result in the kind of wild night he’d brag about for the rest of his life, but Tommy was looking for something more than just a good time. As ridiculous as it was, he’d been holding out for Layla, waiting for her to come around and admit there’d been magic in the kiss that they’d shared—a waste of time that had gotten him nowhere. Layla had been drunk when it happened, and once sober, she’d given no indication of ever wanting to repeat it.
He slipped his guitar into its case and forced himself to deal with his own harsh reality. Fact was, he hadn’t had a single date since he’d arrived in LA. He’d basically turned down every woman who expressed the slightest bit of interest in him, and for what? So he could win the world record for unintended celibacy?
LA had no shortage of hot females. Hell, gorgeous women were so abundant he often wondered where they hid all the plain or merely normal-looking ones. And yet, despite the nonstop beauty parade, he hadn’t gotten laid since he’d left high school.
The whole thing was ridiculous. Fact was, Tommy had a life to live, and waiting for Layla to show him some interest without the aid of tequila was no way to live it. Maybe an older woman, make that two older women, were just what he needed to finally get over her.
He was young in a city where youth was the most valued currency. And yet, so far he’d chosen to live like a monk.
So what if those two women had a good twelve years on his eighteen? A brunette and a blonde was every guy’s dream—and that dream was just a simple phone call away.
The boutique owner handed over his check, and Tommy slipped it into his wallet and headed into the balmy LA night, feeling so fired up there was no way he could face his empty apartment alone.
He wondered where the women had gone. Probably back to some swanky house high in the Hollywood Hills with great city views, expensive sheets, maybe even an infinity pool.
The more Tommy thought about it, the more he grew convinced he could really use a night with those two.
Hell, you could even say he deserved it.
He retrieved the card the brunette had given him, all the while telling himself he had nothing to lose, that you only live once, and a bunch of other pep-rally platitudes he hoped would spike some much-needed courage to see this thing through.
He squinted at the card and pressed the digits onto his keypad.
“Hi . . . Malina . . .” Tommy’s gaze landed on her name just as she answered. “This is Tommy. Tommy Phillips. We met at the boutique. . . .”
“Tommy.” She laughed, in a way he hadn’t expected. Was she flirting, making fun of him? Was he paranoid and reading too much into what was probably nothing? “That was fast.” Her voice was light and teasing.
Tommy cleared his throat, then immediately wished that he hadn’t. It made him sound shaky and nervous, which he was, but it wouldn’t do any good to reveal that. “Yeah, well, I just, uh, I just finished my set, and I was wondering if you two might want to meet. You know, for a drink, or . . . something . . .” He leaned against his car door and waited for her reply. The silence mounted, seeming to drag on for an intolerable amount of time.
“I’m very interested in meeting with you, Tommy.”
He closed his eyes. He was minutes away from the best night of his life.
“Only not tonight.” Her words flowed easily, though that didn’t mean they were easy for Tommy to hear.
Had he misread the signals?
He pictured them standing before him, arms slung around each other’s waists, whispering back and forth and never once taking their eyes off him. . . .
No, it was impossible, out of the question. He might be only eighteen, but he’d been hit on by enough females to recognize the signs.
Tommy frowned at the phone. She was waiting for him to respond, but he had no idea what to say. Had he fallen for some kind of joke?
He tossed his guitar onto the backseat, feeling like an idiot for making the call and allowing himself to get so riled up only to be rejected by some ridiculously hot, yet clearly sadistic women.
“Tommy?” The sound of her voice dragged him away from his thoughts and back to the very confused present he resided in. “Did you even look at my card?” Her voice was amused in a way that left him both annoyed and ashamed.
His jaw clenched, he retrieved her card again, and when he read the small print just under her name, he couldn’t help but grin.
Apparently Malina Li was head of A and R for a major record label he’d actually heard of.
So it was his music she was int