He nodded. “That’s good. Mine wasn’t that bad either. Surprising considering how long it’s been since I drank.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, did you give it up for Lent or something?”
“Nah, just a whole lot of training and promoting. I like to relax and enjoy it when I kick back, and I just haven’t had the time.”
As someone who worked with a whole lot of functional alcoholics in show business, I was pleased to hear that. There was nothing wrong with enjoying alcohol. Goodness knew that I did. It was the dependence on it that became the issue, and it didn’t seem like he had that.
Not that it mattered if he did. I was just… trying to distract myself most likely. Keep my mind off the whole reason the two of us were there.
“Yeah, your sister told me your star has really been rising.”
“Oh, so you talk about me?” I could tell that he was trying to keep his tone neutral, but I could hear traces of curiosity within it.
“Occasionally,” I teased.
Why was I teasing him?
Surely it was not the right time or situation, and yet I couldn’t help myself. “As one tends to do when a relative is becoming famous.”
He flushed at that. “I don’t know about famous. I’m just a fighter who’s doing his best.” He took another drink of water and I watched him slide right into a cool, effortless sort of demeanor right in front of me. Was he getting less nervous? “You’re the one who works in Hollywood.”
I snorted outright. “Please, I choreograph some fights behind the scenes. I get stunt work for myself maybe twice a year.”
“Really?” His eyebrows furrowed in a way that looked so protective and concerned that I was distracted for a solid moment. Oh geez, what was going on with me? “Why? From what Michelle shows me of your stunt reel, you’re talented.”
Now it was my turn to seem cool and neutral. “Oh, so you’ve seen my stunt reel?”
But unlike me, Mickey didn’t tease me back. He leaned forward, and I was caught up in the intensity of everything that was him. Dear Lord.
“Of course. I’ve tried to watch everything you’ve done since you’ve been putting things online. I always knew you were gonna make it and I wanted to see everything you did.”
Shit. The man knew how to give a compliment, that was for sure.
I managed to recover slightly and said something or another. I managed to change the conversation to something banal, something safe, and that lasted all the way until our food arrived.
And the food wasn’t half bad. Sufficiently lingering between terrible and perfect, it was exactly the sort of greasy spoon fare that I was craving. While we didn’t talk much while we ate, Mickey seemed pretty happy to have someone to dine with him. It made me wonder how many meals he took alone. Or even what his day to day life was like. I never imagined someone who was a rising start ever being lonely, but I also didn’t know much about the scene at all.
By the time we both finished our food, I was feeling contented and full. It was just the kind of satisfied, kinda sleepy feeling that was perfect after a wedding and a hook up, but then a glint from the massive rock on my finger reminded me of exactly why we were sitting together.
“So, what all do you remember?” I asked abruptly once our plates were taken away. It wasn’t the most gracious way to bring up the issue, but well… I was hardly gracious.
Mickey froze, his face completely straight, before he swallowed.
“I remember us dancing, and then going back to my room. Then I remember us… spending some time together.”
“That’s a very polite way to say you worked me over so hard that my legs still feel it.”
I shouldn’t have said that! Why did I say that?!
Instead of smirking smarmily, he just nodded matter of factly. “Good to know I did my job well.”
“Mmm-hmm,” was all I could manage, hastily chugging my water. Most guys I knew would preen and gloat at their sexual prowess being complimented. Mickey just treated it like anything less would have been inexcusable.
That was something else.
“Then I woke up this morning, alone, with a ring on my finger.”
I frowned. That story sounded far too much like my own. “I remember raiding your mini-bar, but that’s it. Are you sure you can’t think of anything else? Where we went? What we did? Did we get-” I cut myself off and swallowed harshly. Even though we were in Vegas, and we had woken up with matching bands, didn’t mean that we had legally gone and done the deed. Surely whoever ran the sham chapels on the strip would know that we were far to drunk to be doing anything legally binding.