I froze midchew and shook my head. “No.”
“I didn’t think so, but I wouldn’t care if you were. You seem cooler than his last boyfriend.”
“Thanks, but I’m not.” I took another bite. “What was wrong with the last guy?”
He made a face as he adjusted his glasses. I noted that the stylish blue frames contrasted with his red gingham button-down shirt and navy khakis—not because I gave a shit about fashion. It was just kind of obvious that his older brother had a say in his wardrobe.
Clue one, if I needed it, that Oliver was very close to Charlie. Anything I said would certainly make its way to my employer. So yeah, asking about Seb’s ex probably wasn’t a smooth move.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to ask personal questions,” he chided playfully, as if reading my mind.
“I didn’t ask. You shared, Columbo,” I quipped.
He narrowed his eyes. “Who’s that?”
“Keep up with me, kid. Columbo was a TV detective. One of the best ever.” I winced. “Now that I think of it, that’s an ancient reference.”
“Definitely an actor,” he deadpanned.
“I could be a director or a screenwriter, you know.”
“Directors don’t like hanging out doing nothing, and if you were a screenwriter, you’d probably be talking to my mom.” Oliver motioned toward the petite brunette deep in conversation with a huge bearded man who had his arm around a cute guy with glasses. I was sure the big guy was in a band, but I didn’t think it was Zero.
“Hmm.”
He was quiet for a moment. I thought he might have had second thoughts about sharing any info about the ex. That was fine. I didn’t need to know about—
“Giorgio was a two-faced jerk.”
“Who?”
“My dad’s ex-boyfriend. He was always telling you what you wanted to hear, then stabbing you in the back. I know kids in school who do that. It’s extra lame coming from an adult. I don’t know why Dad liked him. I mean, I’m not stupid. I can guess. But if you’re not interested in stuff, you shouldn’t fake it. He told me he loved Pokémon when he was a kid, but he couldn’t name one character. Not even Pikachu.”
“Monster.”
Oliver shrugged. “I just don’t think you should lie.”
Okay, now I really felt like a prick.
“You’re right.” I cleaned off the shrimp skewer and set the plate on the stone ledge behind me. “You still into Pokémon?”
“Not really, but I still have my card collection.”
“What are you into now?”
Another shrug. “Video games, I guess. I’m beating Gray in Grand Theft Auto V now. I’m a good skateboarder now. Charlie’s boyfriend Ky taught me.”
“Sounds like you can be a professional skateboarding video-game player when you graduate from college.”
Oliver pumped his fist and let out a whoop, causing a few heads to turn our way. Including his mom’s. Oops. Looked like I’d blown my cover. Or maybe it was okay for bodyguards to joke around with guests. I had no idea.
“That would be amazing, but I’ll probably go into science. Or animation. I made a Claymation video with my friend about an Oreo who gets lost in the land of Fig Newtons for a school project last month. We got an A,” he boasted proudly. “The teacher liked it so much, she told us to continue the story for our final project.”
“Congratulations on the success of your horror film. That poor Oreo had to be traumatized.”
Oliver chuckled. “He was totally scared. I made his eyes super huge and—”
“Hi, there. Who do we have here?” Oliver’s mom glided to her son’s side, setting a protective hand on his shoulder. “I’m Rita Marten.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m—”
“Whoa! Well, my goodness! Time flies when you’re spiking the punch.” Charlie shimmied between us, champagne flute in hand. “Just kidding, Rita. And look at you meeting my newest Scratch Record team member. This is Trent…um, I forgot your last name.”
“Mackay.” I offered my hand.
Rita graciously shook it while thoroughly sizing me up. That was okay. I did the same to her. I was shamelessly curious about the woman Seb had married and had a kid with. She was five three or four with medium-length dark hair, blue eyes, and a heart-shaped face. Pretty, for sure, but she had a business-first aura about her. A little intense and a lot serious. I couldn’t picture them together…at all.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she replied. “Are you a recording artist?”
“He’s an actor, Mom.”
“No, he’s a bodyguard,” Charlie corrected, flashing a phony smile at his small audience. “And I’m going to require his attention for just a moment, if you don’t mind. Dad’s about to give his ‘best man’ speech. Ollie, will you remind him that there’s a microphone on the table near the pool, please?”
“Sure.”
Rita raised her brow, nodding before following her son toward the house.
Charlie sighed theatrically. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to abandon you out here. I’ve been running all over hell’s half acre inside. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.”