“Sounds sensible,” mumbled Anne.
From the other side of the room, standing against the wall, Ziggy gave me a small shake of his head at the drummer’s antics.
I suggested Ziggy take the night off since I wasn’t leaving the building, and he’d already admitted I’d be safe surrounded by the Stage Dive crew and all. Never really occurred to me how full-on the role of bodyguard actually was. This would have been the perfect opportunity for him to catch up with his own life et cetera. But he’d declined. Apparently the man took his job seriously and was determined to be stuck to me like glue during all hours of the day. I can’t say I didn’t like having him around. Well, I could, but I’d be lying.
I grabbed an olive from the charcuterie board on the low coffee table. It had salami, prosciutto, nuts, cheeses, dried fruits, crackers, pretzels, breadsticks, decorative edible flowers, and everything else under the sun. I could have fed my face the entire yummy thing. Nearby bottles of wine and beer sat in ice-filled buckets. These people knew how to party in style. No question, I liked my new neighbors. Even Mal had a certain charm. In fact, his craziness was almost relaxing. There was no need to fumble for conversation topics or anything around him. You could just sit back and enjoy the show.
“We’re here!” called out a low voice from the front door.
In trooped the band’s bass player, Ben Nicholson, followed by a whole bunch of people.
“Mae,” said Lena. “Meet Ben and his wife, Lizzy. Next comes our baby star boy solo act himself, Adam Dillon.”
“Wish you wouldn’t call me that,” said Adam, a handsome slouchy rock’n’roll looking dude in his mid-twenties. Lots of hair and tattoos. Very cool. I’d certainly heard of him—his music was all over the radio and music TV channels these days.
“Wish on, my sweet.” Lena smiled. “Martha, his manager, and of course, Sam, her fiancé and the owner of the security company we’re all loving and using.”
The beefy-looking bald man gave me a nod. “Miss Cooper. Pleasure to meet you in person.”
I raised a hand in welcome. “Call me Mae, please. Nice to meet you too.”
“I trust Ziggy’s been looking after you.” He tipped his chin in the direction of my bodyguard, who gave a brief nod in return.
“He’s been great, thank you.”
“Where did you get those?” Martha, a svelte brunette, stared at my heels. “I’ve had them on pre-order forever.”
“They were a gift,” I said, holding up the matching clutch.
“Ugh. I hate you.” She winked. “I need a drink.”
“Your wish is my command.” Sam poured her a glass of champagne. “I thought it all went rather well.”
“The show was a huge success, but the open bar was crap. They didn’t even put anything decent in Adam’s dressing room for me to steal.”
“It was for charity and it was great exposure,” said Ben, taking a seat on the couch and pulling his wife down onto his lap.
“Which is why I booked it. But now I need to chill and drink Ev’s Dom Pérignon.”
Ev smiled. “That’s why I bought it for you.”
“Bon, you’re off now. Time to relax and have a drink.” Sam handed a beer to the last man to wander into the room.
He was tall and built along the same lines as Ziggy. In fact, come to think of it, they looked a hell of a lot alike. He too wore a dark suit, expertly tailored. After accepting his drink with a nod, he went to stand beside Ziggy against the wall. At the party, but not really a part of it.
“So, I had a new idea for the nursery,” said Martha, champagne in hand. “What about a black and white plaid feature wall?”
“Plaid?” asked Anne, hands smoothing over her big belly. “Hmm. Interesting.”
Lizzy frowned. “Have I got my dates wrong? Or isn’t this baby due like next week or so?”
Anne calmly nodded.
“Nursery’s finished,” said Mal. “After months of debate, you two finally decided on a buttercup yellow with Boho-Farmhouse accents. Whatever that all means.”
“And it’s beautiful. But it doesn’t mean we can’t fine tune it,” said Martha.
“Still planning on a natural delivery?” asked Lizzy.