“Come on.” She looped her arm through his. “I’ll introduce you to some of the gang.”
He moved with her from one group to the next, meeting people and hearing more names than he could ever possibly remember. He ran out of obnoxious nicknames after the first four packs. With each new cluster of people, the amusement and gleam in Susan’s eyes faded a little more, and her smile resembled a painted-on disguise.
The longer they mingled, the more it sank in—she wasn’t afraid of performing; she’d been doing it so long under someone else’s definition that she didn’t enjoy it. Her smile stayed intact. She shook hands and exchanged hugs and made all the right small talk. But her smile stopped reaching her eyes, and her voice was missing the lilt it got when she was excited.
She didn’t need help overcoming deep-rooted stage fright. She needed to learn how to put on a show for herself, and not for whoever she thought might or might not be watching. And God damn, if the notion of a private show for her pleasure didn’t fill his head with all sorts of vivid voyeuristic fantasies.
“Jodie.” Susan’s exclamation jarred Andrew back to the now. She tugged him toward a woman near the far end of the restaurant. “So excited for you.”
“Thanks.” Jodie was beaming, and as he and Susan approached, she gave them her full attention. “Who’s your date?”
Andrew shook her hand. “Resident boy toy.”
“He’s not,” Susan said quickly. “He’s just a friend. This is Andrew.”
Jodie raised her brows. “Okay…”
“She’s being modest. Doesn’t tell her boy toy much, though, so I want to hear it from you. What are you pursuing at Stanford?” Andrew kept his tone light and teasing.
Jodie’s pleased expression grew, her eyes lighting up. “This is the next step on my way to medical school. There’s an advisor at Stanford who’s published several papers on prosthetics and transplants, and I get to work with him.”
“Tell him what kind.” Susan had that impish look that said she knew the punchline.
“Penile.”
Andrew was tempted to take the bait, but not if she expected it. Besides, the joke was too obvious. “I’ve read about that. They’re hoping to initially use the science to help vets who lost vital parts in combat, and in the future possibly extend the use to the trans community and other people who can benefit.”
“Exactly,” Jodie said. “So many people giggle and smirk when I tell them I’m studying penises, but there’s a real call for the research.”
Susan looked at Andrew, mouth twisted.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re not going to ask her to hook up some of your actors?”
He didn’t know if he was pleased or disappointed she had him pegged so completely. “First of all—my actors know how to use their assets regardless of size. And second—would it make you feel better if I did?”
“It might. Then I’d know you were you, and not some… I don’t know… not-evil twin you never mentioned.” Susan’s tone was playful. At ease.
He liked this side of her. “The word you’re looking for is good, and I’m the best there is.”
“You two are hilarious together.” Jodie laughed.
Andrew reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card. “Back to the more serious, just for a minute. I have a friend, Ginny—a dancer—who’s starting her residency soon. She’s studying in the same field and knows people in the southeast. If you ever want an introduction, drop me a line.”
“Yeah. Right. Like you’ll remember meeting me in a year or two.” Despite Jodie’s sarcasm, she took the card.
“I’m serious. And I don’t forget people. Especially Suzie-Q’s friends. Besides, this isn’t the kind of offer I extend to anyone.”
“Thank you.” She slid the card into her handbag, next to her phone. “Speaking of dancers—do you know her, Susan?”
“She’s not that kind of dancer,” Andrew said.
Jodie frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Ginny takes a lot more clothing off when she’s working.”
“And probably makes a lot more money doing it,” Susan added.