“You look fabulous, darling. I know what people wear to these things. You’ll fit in.”
Sure, Steve knew he’d fit in withpeople. But Drew was still, despite their growing friendship, something of an unknown quantity, and he liked to stand out. “What if he shows up in designer jeans and a sports jacket?” He’d grumbled about having to wear a tuxedo—maybe he’d decide to buck the status quo. What would Drew think if he dressed casually and Steve wore a tux? No matter that it was a very nice tux with pants that flattered his ass and a jacket fitted to show off his broad shoulders. He didn’t want to give Drew the wrong idea.
Whatever that was.
“Send him home to change,” his mother suggested airily.
“Mom!” He switched the camera back. “My hair looks okay?”
“It’s fine, I promise.”
“Should I shave?”
“Do you have time?” she retorted. “Anyway, a little day-old stubble never hurt anyone. Well. Notseriously.”
Oh Lord, he’d opened the door for his mother to make innuendoes. “Mom.”
“I’m more worried about the practical matters. Did you brush your teeth? Are you wearing nice underwear? Remember it’s not safe to keep condoms in your wallet—”
He took a deep breath. “Mom. There’s such a thing as being too supportive.”
She laughed. “Ridiculous.”
The bands of anxiety around his chest eased a little, and he conceded. “You don’t think I’m making a mistake? What with….” He waved his hand, intending to encompass Drew, the date, the movie, his romantic past, hell, Hollywood in general.
“What if you were? Life’s about making mistakes. It’s not about getting everything perfect the first time.”
Easily said by a woman who hadn’t wanted for anything for most of her life. But he wasn’t sure she was wrong either. “I never said I wanted to be perfect.”
“You didn’t have to. I know you. And you like this man. So go on a date with him.”
“I liked the last guy too.”
“Not everyone in Hollywood is a self-absorbed backstabbing opportunist,” his mother reminded him. “But I have to go, baby. You’re not the only one with a date tonight. Have fun, okay? I love you.”
Of course. He could never expect his mother to stay in on a Saturday night. “I love you too. Bye, Mom. Take your own advice.”
“Always, darling. Oh, and if you see Rico tonight, avoid him. I broke up with him and he’s sulking.”
Steve tried to remember which one Rico was—had they met, maybe, one weekend at his mom’s place?—but it eluded him. “Thanks for the tip.”
The call disconnected, and Steve slipped his phone into his jacket pocket. The tailoring held up fine—no weird pulls or lines. You got what you paid for, Steve’s mom always said, and she insisted he pay top dollar.
“I am really going to do this,” he told his reflection.
His reflection looked back, flushed with anticipation. Had he remembered to put on deodorant?
In his pocket, his phone chirped, and he pulled it out to check the message.Be there in five.
Well, at least his panic now had a shelf life. Keys, wallet, phone… time to go downstairs. He locked his apartment, pocketed his key, and got in the elevator.
If this were a movie about his life, the doors sliding closed would have marked the end of act one.
They opened again on Drew Beaumont in a tuxedo, the top three buttons of his shirt undone, bow tie hanging out of his pocket. He was stepping forward as though he were about to enter the elevator but couldn’t now because Steve was in the way.
“Hey.” Drew smiled, showing off his dimple. Steve’s heart tried to skip a beat, but he willed it into submission. “Your neighbor let me in.”
“The perks of fame, huh?”
