Oakley put her head to her desk. Six minutes. She only needed to keep them on the phone for six more minutes.
Six.
Five.
Four.
Three.
They hung up at two, laughing in the background as the phone went dead.
Their Truth or Dare game complete.
And she was short.
She lifted her head and checked the Available box again.
“Hello, this is Sasha . . .”
TWO
The chick in his living room was taking a selfie next to his gold record. Pike leaned back, watching her through his half-open bedroom door. “Fantastic.”
“What’s fantastic?” his friend Gibson asked on the other end of the line. “Did you even hear what I said?”
“No, I didn’t. And what’s fantastic is that I have a seriously hot B-list actress in my living room, who was all kinds of cool after the show tonight, but is now snapping duckface selfies in front of my shit.”
Gibson snorted a laugh. “At least she’s not using you just for your body.”
“That I’d be okay with. But this . . .”
“Hey, if there’s no selfie for proof, the event never happened. At least that’s what my niece tells me. It’s like a tree falling in the woods.”
Pike sighed. “Observation: Duckface is a friend to no one.”
The longer Pike watched, the more he regretted his decision to bring this woman home with him. He’d been buzzing off the energy of the performance tonight and had wanted to keep that feeling going. Darkfall had kicked ass onstage and had impressed the promoters putting together the big Summer Insanity tour. If Darkfall landed that spot, they’d have a chance to recapture some of the traction they’d lost when their lead singer had to take extended time off between albums to get surgery on his vocal cords. In some ways, tonight felt like a rebirth of the band, and he wanted to celebrate.
And usually the only thing more exciting than pounding the drums, making thousands of fans scream, was making just one scream. But as he watched his date take another photo of herself, he was losing his enthusiasm for his plan.
Maybe a chill night at home with the dog would’ve been a better idea.
Monty barked from somewhere in the living room, protesting the fact that Pike hadn’t given him his requisite belly rub and dog biscuit when he’d come home. He’d been too busy pouring a drink for his guest.
“What’s her name?” Gib asked.
Pike scrubbed a hand through his damp hair. “Why does that matter?”
“Come on, tell me that you’re not that big of a dick and you remember her name.”
Pike grimaced at Gib’s tone. This is what he got for hanging out with businessman types instead of fellow musicians. The suits had a different code of conduct. With the dudes in his band, remembering names was only expected after you slept with someone. Luckily, Pike’s memory was good. “Lark Evans.”
“All right. Hold on a sec.” The clicking of a keyboard sounded on the other end.
“Gib, look, can we talk about whatever you were calling for tomorrow? I’m ignoring my company.” He walked away from the door and dropped the towel from around his waist to pull on a fresh pair of well-worn jeans. “I told her I’d only be in the shower for a minute.”
“Ha! I knew it,” Gibson said, triumph in his voice.
“What?”