Drew gunned the engine. “That’s the spirit.”
Chapter Nine
THEvalet at the Aquarium of the Pacific opened Steve’s door, which was simultaneously annoying and a relief. On the one hand it meant Drew couldn’t, and on the other it meant he didn’t have to and wouldn’t be dealing with the fallout from the gesture in the press.
Steve whistled as Drew tossed the keys to the valet. The aquarium had rolled out a literal red carpet for the event, though it was understated enough not to need the velvet ropes. At least so far. Cars were starting to line up, though, and a handful of figures in black tie were making their way toward the main entrance. A few scattered paparazzi had perked up when Drew stepped out, and Drew gestured Steve past them, press smile firmly in place. “Sorry in advance,” he said, hoping that would be enough for Steve to brace himself. Before they could take another step, the photographers started yelling:
“Drew! Hey, Drew, who’s your date?”
“Over here, Drew, give us a smile!”
“Drew, where’s Leigh?”
Probably getting hounded in Hawaii, Drew thought. But maybe not. Maybe she’d had the sense to book a very private vacation and the budget to bribe someone to keep it that way.
“Just smile and wave and keep walking,” Drew advised, inclining his head toward Steve. “They’ll figure out who you are eventually, but stopping now is a recipe for hearing questions you don’t want to answer just so they can get a reaction.”
“I remember now why I never wanted to be recognizable,” Steve said around a plastic smile. He looked a little green. “Is that Cooper Miles? Is he performing tonight?”
Drew hoped he wasn’t going to puke. “Only official photographers inside,” he said as a uniformed woman held the door for them. “They’ll send any pictures to Hilary and my publicist for approval before releasing them. We don’t have to tell anyone anything. You can just be my friend Steve.”
“Is that what you want me to be?”
Drew didn’t have time to answer that before they came up to the security booth. He handed over his cell phone and raised his hands for a professional pat-down from a severe-looking security guard. Then he stepped through the metal detector.
“All set, Mr. Beaumont,” she said, and her stony expression transformed for a second as she smiled and returned his cell. “The cocktail reception is in the Great Hall and just outside the Ocean Science Center. Dinner will be served on the front lawn at nine. Have a nice evening.”
“Thanks.”
Steve finished with his pat-down and got his phone back from his own guard, whom Drew was doing his best not to envy. At least he was professional.
“All right,” Steve said, his color returning to normal. “I might actually eat sometime this year.”
“You’ll get your appetite back when you see the spread they put on here.” They followed the flow of people farther into the Great Hall of the Pacific. Pub tables with black satin tablecloths dotted the space, populated with glittering Hollywood elites of all ages. “I hope you had a light lunch.”
“Kind of. I was worried my pants wouldn’t fit. It’s been a while since I wore this.”
Drew wondered about that—most people didn’t just have a tuxedo in their closet. But lots of Hollywood parties had dress codes, and anyone in the biz had a legitimate reason to keep one in their wardrobe. It was probably nothing.
Anyway, it wasn’t like he was going to complain. Steve looked incredible, and if his pants were a little on the tight side, so much the better.
“But you never answered my question.”
Is that what you want me to be?
“You noticed that, huh.” They walked under the blue whale, and Drew took a breath. “To be honest, I don’t know what I want. It’s been a long time since I let myself think about it.”
Steve’s face shuttered, that open, easy quality transforming into something inscrutable.
Wrong answer, Drew thought.
“Oh.”
Shit. They hadn’t been here five minutes, and Drew was already making things awkward. He wondered what kind of Hollywood magic it would take to extract his foot from his mouth. What the hell was wrong with him? “But I’m interested in finding out. So I guess, uh, if you’re agreeable, then for tonight, you’re my costar, and the writer, and also my date. Like a date date. Which you can tell anyone who asks.” And then, in a fit of inspired bravery, he added, “And people who don’t. If you want.”
He bit his lip. He had to be right that Steve wasn’t using him, but that didn’t make believing it enough to date publicly easy.
He only got two more steps before Steve caught his hand. Drew turned his head and their eyes met.
