THANK GOD for the coffee shop on the way to work; otherwise I never would have made it to the conference room on time. It seemed I was not the last to arrive—an agent named Jane would take that honor—and I took one of two empty seats, as far from the head of the table as I could. We were arranged by a kind of seniority, and the closer to the boss you got, the higher you stood in his estimation. I knew where I stood after the crap the day before, so I took my place and waited for him to come in. Garren sat two seats closer to the head, but at least he had the grace not to gloat. Everyone looked around the table, silently wondering what was up.
Then it hit me. I was the last to arrive. The empty chair on the other side of the table represented the one person who wasn’t coming. The conference room door opened, and the head of the agency strode in. Claude Maxim was everything his name would suggest. He was a presence in every room he entered. You couldn’t help looking at him, with his stunning blue eyes, aquiline nose, and perfectly coiffed snow-white hair. He wasn’t more than forty-five, and he looked like he’d soaked up moonlight—a gorgeous man, for sure.
“All right. We have a huge day ahead of us. As some of you might have guessed, Jane is no longer with the firm. Her prospects haven’t panned out, and she has decided to pursue another line of work. I suspect she’ll be selling Mary Kay out of her car.”
A snicker went around the table. Claude thought he was funny, and since he was the head of the firm, he was, regardless.
“I can sift through her clients and see what’s viable,” Garren offered.
“No. You’re busy enough,” Claude answered. His gaze scanned the table. “But your point is taken. We’ll need to go through her dog pile and see if there are any gems in it. I’ve begun the process, and I expect that you’ll all provide any help needed.” I felt Claude’s gaze fall on me, and I stopped myself from fidgeting in the chair. “Are there any questions?” Claude waited, but there were none, so he left the room, and the agency employees started filing out behind him.
To my surprise, Gloria, one of the senior agents, stayed behind, got up from her seat next to Claude, and walked down to my end of the table. I was about to get up, but she slid into the chair next to mine.
“I heard about what happened yesterday,” she said.
“Yeah.” What else could I say?
“It happens to all of us. In my opinion, Garren should have let you have him. You were the one who did the work. But sometimes that’s not how it goes. In this business you can’t expect star talent to fall in your lap. You need to look for the new talent and build them up. It can take a long time. That’s what happened with Kyle Weathers.” I knew he was her biggest client, one who’d made the transition from Broadway to Hollywood. “He had talent but no direction when I found him in a little theater in Brooklyn. He and I worked together to build his career into the mega sensation it is. You’ll do the same. You just need to find them.” She patted my hand. The scent of cigarettes mixed with perfume permeated my nose. “And I know you will. You have a talent for this business. So don’t let one setback bother you.” She stood up and walked toward the door, flashing me a half smile before leaving the room. Since I wouldn’t get anything done sitting here, I went to my tiny office, where I began formulating a plan of action.
“Claude would like to see you in his office,” Millie said as she passed with an armload of files. She was Claude’s overworked assistant.
I stood and relieved her of the files, carrying them to her desk. Then I knocked on Claude’s door before going inside. The one thing that always surprised me about Claude’s office was that it wasn’t much bigger than mine, just much more richly appointed, with two sculptures on the credenza behind him and lighted abstract paintings on the walls.
“Close the door,” he said without looking up. I did as he asked. “Since things didn’t go your way yesterday, I’ve decided to give you an opportunity.” He lifted a small stack of files from his desk, and I stepped forward to take them. “These are the clients of Jane’s that we will be transitioning to you. I have already asked Millie to notify them, and you can arrange to meet with each of them over the next few days to get acquainted.” Claude caught my gaze. “Now these,” he said as he handed me another small stack, “are the few people from Jane’s dog pile that I believe are worth pursuing further. Those are working actors.” He pointed to the first stack. “These are people with potential. The remainders are in the Seussian stack that Millie will send letters to. Like I said, these are your challenge, especially the one on top. He has real potential. Jane saw him in”—Claude wiggled his fingers in the air—“something and said he was good. Reminded her of Schwarzenegger. If it’s too much, you can ask Garren for help.”
That guaranteed I would do whatever it took, because he knew I would never again give Garren another chance at anything that was mine.
“Thank you.” I looked at the folders I held in my hands. I wasn’t sure what else to say. Claude had already turned his attention back to his desk, so I left the office, closing the door behind me. I passed Millie’s desk—she was already sifting through the pile of files so she could send out the “we’re sorry” letters. The woman never stopped working.
I hurried to my office and closed the door. I looked over the call list for my new clients. I’d have to call each one and set up appointments. Then I picked up the file for the guy Claude had shown an interest in. I opened it and a head shot and then a name screamed out at me: Beckett Huntington. “Son of a bitch!” I groaned, grateful the door was closed.
I was tempted to throw the file across the room. I mean, fucking hell, it seemed I couldn’t get away from him, even though I’d moved halfway across the country. I was not going to take on that asshole as a client. This was my life and my chance to make something of myself, and Beckett Huntington was not going to be a part of it. Hell, maybe I could pass the file on to Garren. Of course that would also mean Claude would know, and I’d be in a world of hurt. He had given me the file, after all. I smiled and set the file aside. Maybe Mr. Huntington could just sit in my file drawer and rot. The bastard had made my life hell for months. I sure as shit wasn’t going to do a damn thing to help him.
My phone rang and I answered it.
“You were gone early,” Val chirped.
“And you got in very late. So much for that ‘I’m not a slut’ crap.”
Val snorted. “We stayed out, talked, lost track of time, and I got back just after midnight, thank you very much.” There was a definite dreamy quality to Val’s voice. “He was really nice.”
“Are you going to see him again?” I asked, playing naïve.
“We have a date for a week from Saturday. This weekend he’s competing, and I have to work second shift at the IT help desk during the week, but he already asked me out and said he would call me during the week just to hear my voice.” I suspected Val was dancing around his apartment like a ballerina at that very moment. I could almost see him. “What did you get up to?”
“Nothing much. I had to be in the office early. I got some new clients from Claude this morning, along with some prospects. And guess who’s at the top of the prospect list? Think gorilla.”
“No way!” His voice was so loud I had to move the phone from my ear. “That thing can act… well, something other than dumb?” He cackled, and I laughed along with him. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I was so angry when I saw the file I nearly tore it to shreds.” Hell, I still wanted to. I reached for it, fighting the impulse to turn the fucking thing into confetti. “The last thing I want is to be anywhere near that piece of shit.” I kept my voice down, but I wanted to scream. I waited for Val to say something, but he was quiet. “What?”
“Don’t cut off your face to spite your nose, or however that saying goes. Do you think he recognized you?”
“I doubt it. There was almost nothing behind his eyes at all. I think his brains might have liquefied at some point. When I saw the file, I swear I had smoke coming out of my ears.”
“Okay. Calm down and think. You have a job to do, and you’re a good guy. Unlike me. I could throw him in the trash easy, but you’d always wonder if you did something wrong. So meet with him. If he has real talent, then make yourself a boatload of money off him. If he doesn’t, get his hopes up and then dash them so you can watch him fold like a house of cards.” Val laughed like the Grinch. “Either way, you win.”
“Remind me never to get on your bad side.” I chuckled, feeling a little better. “I need to go.”
“Tell me all about it when I see you.” After Val hung up, I made calls to each of the current clients to introduce myself and set up times to meet. Then I started on the prospective clients, asking each actor to come into the office so we could meet face-to-face. My appointment book filled quickly. Granted, they were only initial meetings, and the hard work would be arranging for auditions, but I had to take this first step.
I put off calling Beckett until last. I half hoped the call would go to voice mail—then I could just leave a message and pray he didn’t call me back.
“Yeah.”
“Is this Beckett Huntington?” I said, lowering my voice slightly. Why, I had no idea.
“Yeah, who is this?”
“I’m Pay Gowan with the Maxim Agency. I was calling because of your interest in representation.” I hoped like hell my name didn’t ring any bells with him. In school everyone called me Payton, so I figured I was pretty safe.
“What about Jane?” he asked. “I talked to her a few weeks ago, and she said she expected to be able to represent me.”
“Jane has decided to make a career change,” I told him.
“Shit,” he groaned. I took a little pleasure in his disappointment. Let him wonder and worry. He’d made me feel uncomfortable and stripped away my self-confidence too many times. He could experience a setback for once. “So what do I have to do now?”
“I’d like to meet you, find out what you can do. Maybe see you in action. When can you come into the office to meet with me?” I wanted to blow the asshole off, but this was my job and I needed to be professional. “You’ll need to come prepared to show me what you can do.” I’d put him through his paces and then stomp on his dreams. Of course I threw that idea aside because helping him would help me as well. On top of that, if I didn’t do my best, then Claude would give Garren his shot, and that galled me almost as much as the thought of working with Beckett.
“I can do that.” He sounded excited. “Just tell me what sort of reading you’d like.”
“No reading.” I wasn’t going to make this easy on him. “I want something from memory, fully acted and prepared. Maybe something from Curly in Oklahoma.” I threw that last part in because I couldn’t resist it. “Can you be here at three today?” I knew I was pushing it, but it felt good to be the one in control.
“I have to work until…. Yes. I’ll be there.” His excitement ramped up. I ended the call, adding him to my schedule. I was taking way too much delight in this.
I ate lunch in my office and spent the afternoon in meetings. Things moved very quickly for the rest of the day, and by three I had met with two of my new clients and with Gloria, who had contacts in every production company in town. She made a few introductions for me and helped arrange some auditions.
“I appreciate the help,” I told her.
“Don’t thank me yet. They haven’t got the parts, but you’re doing me a favor as well. Whenever we can supply good candidates for a wide range of parts, it makes the firm more valuable, and that helps us all. Now go and make sure your clients are prepped and ready, and for God’s sake they had better show up on time.”
They would if I had to take them there myself. I hurried back to my office and made some calls. I could tell my new clients were impressed, and they promised to be at their auditions on time and ready to go. I made notes in my calendar to call them a few hours before as a reminder. It was a good day.
My phone rang. “Yes,” I said.
“Pay, there’s a huge man waiting out in the lobby for you,” Millie said with a touch of trepidation. “He says he’s here for a meeting, but….”
“It’s okay. I think he’s my three o’clock.”
“I’ll escort him back, then.” She hung up and I stood behind my desk. I was going to meet this man again formally from a position of strength.
Millie knocked on my door, then opened it, smiling a little before stepping back. Beckett Huntington stepped into my office, and his eyes immediately widened. I heard him gasp softly.
“Thank you, Millie,” I said, motioning for him to sit. She left the door open.
Beckett stood just inside the office. I waited to see what he would do.
“You’re the guy….”
“Yes. Yesterday at the gym.”
“You ran into—”
I cleared my throat.
“I ran into you,” he clarified.
I nodded. “And….” I prompted, enjoying his discomfort immensely.
“Maybe I should go.” He shifted from foot to foot and pulled at his collar.
“If that’s what you’d like. But this chance isn’t going to come around again.” Why I didn’t let him go was beyond me. Maybe it was the scared insecurity in his blue eyes. “Now, think about the way you acted yesterday. You were rude and almost pushed me off my machine when all I wanted was to get a drink, and you practically ran me over and acted as though it was my fault, when the one who wasn’t looking where he was going was you.” I motioned again to the chair and then sat down myself. “What if you were my client, and I had arranged an audition for you, and the man you treated that way was the producer or director? You never know who anyone is in this town.”
Beckett swallowed. “I understand,” he said softly. So far he seemed to have only equated me with the guy from the gym, which was fine. It felt strange to have him in my office, but it also gave me a sense of authority since he obviously didn’t remember me.
“In this business, you get one chance—if any at all—and to waste it on something….” I sat back and let my words settle in… for him and for me. I was going to take my own advice, keep my mouth shut, and do my job. “Do you have photos?”
He nodded and pulled some glossies out of his bag. “Jane told me what I should have taken.”
I looked through them, then set them on my desk. “The head shots are fine, and we can use some of the others, but not these.” I handed some back.
“Those are the ones I really like,” he protested.
They were the real muscle shots. “I understand. You’ve worked years on your body, but the thing is, there are only so many parts for guys who look like the Hulk, and they only make so many Hercules movies. The Met only puts on Tristan und Isolde once a decade, where they need rowers.” I let that hang in the air for a few seconds, then stood. “I booked a conference room, and we’re going to go in there. You can do what you’ve prepared, and then I’m going to have you read something blind for me. Then I’ll make a decision.”
I stood and grabbed my file before leading him to the conference room and closing the door. I sat down and motioned him to the front. “Go.”
I watched Beckett squirm a little, then he turned and began. The scene from Death of a Salesman lasted only a few minutes, but I was drawn to Beckett’s Willy Loman. When he was done, I wanted to know more. Not that Beckett would ever play this character, but to see a guy as huge as he was read a character who came off as small and desperate and make it believable was more than I had been expecting.
“You wanted something from Oklahoma,” Beckett said.
“I was teasing,” I told him. I handed Beckett the scene I wanted him to read, gave him a few minutes to prepare, then asked him to do the monologue.
To my surprise he did very well. The prepared piece he should have nailed, and he did, but he even brought depth to the piece I’d grabbed from a pile of scripts. It was nothing, but he made the work sound amazing.
“Okay,” I said, stopping him. “I think I’ve seen enough.” God, I had been prepared for him to suck so I could send him on his way, but that wasn’t the case at all.
“Was it good?” Beckett asked.
“Yes. Now we need to get you looking like you’re serious.” I motioned him to the table. “I want you to get some new pictures taken. We’ll keep the ones you have in case a Conan-esque film comes up, but you can be more than that. I want you to soften yourself. You have a real talent, but with the look you have now, very few roles will come your way. Do you have a tuxedo?” Beckett shook his head. “Then rent one and have pictures taken in it. Show you can be dashing, and get a plain sweater—I want you to put together a college look. We know from looking at you that you could play football players, but let’s make you look like other kinds of athletes. It’s all about perception and what you can pull off. I think a few with glasses would be interesting. Otherwise, people are going to look at you and not see beyond your size. I want to showcase that you are more than that.” I rolled my eyes and slid a piece of paper and a pen across the table. “Also, never go anywhere without a pen and something to write on. It isn’t necessary to take notes while you’re there, but jot down important details as soon as you leave.”
“Okay.” He began writing down what I’d told him.
“If you agree, I’ll have a representation contract drawn up, and then once the pictures are done, we’ll start the audition process.”
Beckett jumped to his feet, and for a few seconds he looked like a huge puppy. “I’ve been living on a friend’s couch for weeks, and I was about to give up and go home.”
“There is still plenty of hard work ahead. Never forget that.” I handed him my business card and verified that the information I had for him was correct. “Do you know a photographer?”
“Jane arranged for the last one.”
“I’ll arrange for this one, and we’ll get you set up. But I need to stress this: I don’t want you getting bigger, and the vascularity isn’t attractive away from competition. Do you understand?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Now hone your craft and treat every audition as though it’s the part of your life.” I stood and put out my hand.
“I appreciate this. I won’t let you down.” Beckett shook my hand firmly. “I’m grateful you’re not letting what happened yesterday affect things.”
I nodded. My mouth went dry as he held my hand. I blinked a few times, then pulled away as a tingle of excitement zipped up my back. No way in hell was I going to allow anything like that. I backed up in the hope of hiding the flush burning in my face. Where the hell had that come from? I was not attracted to Beckett Huntington. Not happening. “I’ll call you as soon as the paperwork is ready and when I have the appointment set up with the photographer.” Beckett stared at the floor. “What is it?”
“I don’t know anything about tuxedos and stuff like that.”
“Do you have friends who do?”
Beckett shook his head. “My friends know about jeans and gym shorts. I spent the last few years as a competitive bodybuilder, but I’ve wanted to act since I fell into it in high school.” I closed my eyes and let the anger that welled up cool back down. Showing anger wouldn’t be productive. I needed to keep my head.
“All right. I’ll make arrangements for that as well.” Gloria told me once that sometimes agents needed to be babysitters and even wardrobe consultants. Looked like this was one of those times. “I’ll go with you to the photographer as well. Just make sure you get the paperwork back to me right away so we can get you working.”
“I will.” He smiled brightly. “Thank you so much.” He hurried toward the door, and I followed him out and led him back to the lobby.
“Was that your latest client?” Garren asked from behind me once the elevator doors had closed. “What are you going to get him cast for?”
“He can act, he looks amazingly hot, and I’m sure I can turn him into a heartthrob.” I turned and smiled at Garren.
“I wouldn’t have bothered.”
“He didn’t read for you,” I said without heat. Then I turned and went back to my office. I had calls to make and enough appointments to keep me busy the rest of the day.
BY THE time I got home, I was exhausted and exhilarated. I was also so pissed off I wanted to stomp myself into the concrete. Instead of going to my apartment, I went right up to Val’s and knocked, but he wasn’t home. I returned to my apartment and remembered I should have stopped for something to eat. I already knew there was nothing in the house, so I went right back out and down to the corner market. I got a light dinner and took it back, wishing I had someone to talk to. I sat in my chair and ate, watching nothing on television. Once I’d eaten, I put the trash away, then pulled out my phone, and called my dad.
“Hey, son,” he answered. “I was wondering if you were all right there in the big city.”
“I’m fine, Dad. How are all the students?” My father was a grounds supervisor for Central Michigan University. His job was the reason I was able to go to college: the university gave family members of employees a break on tuition.
“The usual. Last night they strung toilet paper over half the trees on campus, so we were cleaning up that mess for hours.”
I laughed, because it happened every year. “Some things never change,” I said softly.
“How are things? Do you need anything?”
“Just to talk. Things are going well. I got my own clients today, and I think I signed a new talent.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“I’m sure about his talent, but there’s some other crap that’s thrown me.” I sighed, deciding just to get it out there. “The client is Beckett Huntington.”
Dad went quiet for a while. “I remember that kid. The hoodlum.” My dad had understood and done what he could at the time, but I didn’t tell him half the things that had gone on. I didn’t want him to be ashamed of me or think I was a wuss or something. It was bad enough that I was gay, and I wanted him to be proud of me. “What’s he done?”
“He’s my latest client,” I confessed. “He doesn’t remember me from school.”
“Why would you do that? Take him on as a client?”
“Because he was really good, Dad. He has talent, a real gift.” I felt as though I was going to cry, but I held it in. This so wasn’t fair.
“What are you really upset about?” he asked, Dad always seemed to know exactly what questions to ask. “I take it he isn’t the same person he was back then, any more than you are.”
“No. I guess he isn’t, but… why couldn’t I have that talent? I wanted it so bad, and I worked for it. I studied and learned my lines. No, that’s not right. I learned everyone’s lines. I read them all and worked at each part, but he took it all away.”
“I can’t begin to understand what you mean.” Dad sounded so tired that I felt guilty for laying all this crap at his feet. He didn’t deserve it, and everything I was talking about had happened years earlier. It was over and in the past, but I was acting like it was yesterday. “The only answer I can give you is that talent is something we’re born with, not something we can learn. We can hone it, make the gifts we’re given sharper and better, but we can’t create them out of nothing.”
“But I tried so hard.”
“Payton, you always did your best at everything you tried.”
“But….”
“Look, when I was about twelve, your grandmother decided I should play the piano because she loved Liberace and thought if I learned to play, I could be like him and make a lot of money, play at parties, you get the picture. I liked it. Playing the piano was something I really liked, and I used to practice every afternoon. Until Mom stopped the lessons.”
“Why?”
“Because I was all thumbs and couldn’t hit the right notes to save my life. I liked playing, but I stunk… bad. And apparently my dad threatened to leave home if she didn’t make me stop playing.” Dad laughed deeply. “It turns out I’m largely tone-deaf, which came in handy whenever your mother was on the warpath.”
“Okay….”
“So we don’t get to choose our talents. I found out later that mine was making things grow, and maybe yours isn’t acting, the way you once hoped it was, but you have other things you’re good at. Just don’t let jealousy over what you don’t have stand in the way of the things you do best.”
“I’ll try, Dad.”
“Good. And as far as this Beckett kid goes, just do your best for him. See, it’s a real talent to be able to see the gifts others have.” Dad yawned, and I checked the clock. “I got to go to bed because I’m working the early shift.”
“All right. Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime. You know that.”
We said good night, and as I ended the call, I heard footsteps on the stairs outside the door. I pulled it open and saw Val heading up.
“Did you skewer him?” Val asked, coming back down and over to the door. I stepped back and he came inside. I didn’t like to have company at my place. It was too sparse and unwelcoming. I really needed to get decent furniture.
“No. I signed him.” I sighed, knowing I was a fool. “Now he’s my client, and it’s my job to make sure he has the best career possible. I’ll get him auditions and watch him get parts I’ll never be able to play. Hell, I’ll even have to dress him and probably go to the damn auditions with him.” I closed the door with more force than necessary.
“I don’t get you. Why didn’t you let someone else take him as a client?”
“Because he’s really good.” That was the only explanation that I could allow myself to vocalize. There was no way I could tell Val that when Beckett was performing his scene, I was completely transfixed by his lips, or how expressive his cobalt eyes were. Even the way he cocked his eyebrows at just the right moment was perfect. “The guy is huge, okay? But I believed him as Willy Loman, and he did a great job on the blind reading too. I was really impressed, and that kind of talent isn’t something you let get away in this business. If you do, then someone else, like Garren, will be waiting in the wings.”
“So you did the right thing and signed him regardless of how it made you feel.” Val put an arm around my shoulder. “Let’s go up to my place and have a drink or three.”
“You too?”
“Yeah. It sounds like the day was crap all around.”
I grabbed my keys and locked the door, then followed Val upstairs. He let me in, and I sat on his sofa while he got the things together for martinis. Val’s were notorious. He waved the vermouth bottle over the glasses and then poured in the gin. They were martinis only in the sense that they were served in martini glasses and had an olive in them.
“So what happened?” I asked.
“I spent an hour on the phone trying to help this guy install his software. He was so stupid. I asked him the kind of computer he had, and he takes a second and tells me it’s black.”
“No way,” I said, laughing.
“Yes. I asked him for the brand name, and he says he doesn’t know. I asked what it said on the bottom of the frame of the display. He said there was nothing, so I asked him where he got it, and he said he bought it off a guy on the corner. And then he proceeds to ask me why he’d turned it on but none of the lights came on and the screen didn’t light up.” Val gulped from his glass and let his head rest on the back of the sofa. “I swear I get every crazy person on earth.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I asked if the power cord was plugged in.”
“Oh God, let me guess….”
“What power cord?” we said in unison. I broke out laughing and nearly spilled my drink but managed to hold on to it.
“It seems he bought this laptop off a guy on the street for twenty bucks. Lo and behold his neighbor had a power cord that fit, and believe it or not, the computer actually booted up. Of course it had someone else’s files on it because it had either been stolen or was just chucked in a dumpster. I told him how to erase the old files, then walked him through updating everything. By the time we hung up, I was frazzled to hell, but the guy was happy and thanking me no end. Of course, all that will come crashing down when his neighbor wants his power cord back.” Val drained his glass and refilled it. “Thank God there’s just one more day in this sucky week.”
“Was that the worst thing that happened?”
“No. It was just the funniest. I thought once I was through with college I would be changing the world—developing great software and making everyone’s lives better. Instead, I’m resurrecting boat anchors and getting street-corner computers going again.”
“I thought you liked your job.”
“I do. But I don’t want to get stuck doing this the rest of my life,” he whined.
“You won’t. And if you want to change the world, then do it on your own. You’ll never do it working for someone else. Jobs and Wozniak didn’t do that, and neither did Bill Gates or that guy who started Oracle.”
“Ellison,” Val supplied, but I continued because I was on a roll.
“Yeah, him. So come up with your own great idea and go with it. But if you become a dick like that Facebook guy, I’ll smack you upside the head.” I smiled and sipped from my glass, the gin biting as it slid down my throat. “You have extra time—think of something and make it work. You live in New York, where lots of things can happen, and you’re surrounded by people who know more people, so all you need is the great idea and the ability to sell it. And you can do both.” I drained my glass and groaned. My father was right: I could see the talent in others.
“You should be a motivational speaker,” Val quipped, and it took all my restraint not to smack him.
“Yeah, like Pinocchio in that commercial.” I rolled my eyes. “Look, if you hit it big, you have to promise to remember me.”
“Of course I will,” Val said, raising his voice to sound like a Southern belle. “I promise to remember all the little people who made this possible.” He sounded like he was making an Oscar acceptance speech, and then he burst out laughing. “Come on, how about another drink?” He refilled our glasses. “Everything seems better when seen through the bottom of a glass.”
I did feel better, and a little toasted, and I had to be careful I didn’t tumble down the stairs when it was time to go.
“There’s just one more thing I want to know,” Val said, rolling slightly on his heels. He’d insisted on walking me home, which consisted of one flight of stairs. “Are you really upset about what this Beckett guy did to you in high school? Or are you all up in arms because you have the hots for him?”
“Where did that come from?” I demanded. Sometimes he saw way more than I wanted him to.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, but I saw the way you were looking at him.” Val giggled as I unlocked my door, said good night, and went inside. I checked through the peephole to make sure he made it back upstairs before getting ready for bed.