A slow smile spreads across his face, revealing a single dimple. "Guilty as charged."
I laugh, the sound foreign to my own ears. "I almost didn't recognize you without all the paint."
"That’s the idea."
"To keep us mortals confused?"
"Haha."
"I think I saw you earlier with Ramses." I motion at his face. "You still had some of the facial palette on."
He chuckles. "Palette?"
"You know what I mean."
He nods, then whispers a question, "So what do you think? Disappointed by the real me?"
I tilt my head, considering. "Nah. You look like a big ol' teddy bear."
Cruz throws his head back, his laughter rich and warm. The sound wraps around me like a cozy blanket, chasing away the chill of Jett's indifference.What is this even? I just met this guy.
"Have been called many names," he says. "Never a plush toy."
"I won’t tell anyone what’s under that mask." I take a nervous sip of my second cosmo the bartender just set in front of me.
"I hope you don’t."
"Ruined reputation?"
"Exactly."
"So what brings a teddy bear like you to a place like this? I’d think you’d be hanging with your bandmates in that tent security’s patrolling like it’s the national treasure."
"So you’ve seen how they are?"
I nod. "They’re exactly like one would expect guys making millions would be." They’re even bigger clowns than Griff and Kian, with the exception that they have it made.
"Not all of us."
"You think?"
"I know," he says, a bit too serious, but his tone changes to a lighter one immediately. "What broughtyouhere?"
I want to tell him the truth. To tell him that I have a boyfriend and that I’m with him, but it’s like my tongue just stops functioning.Jett paid for this ticket, Wendy.The brain signals, but the body doesn’t follow through. "Whatever everyone else is doing here this weekend. Listening to music, hanging out." I pump my fist in the air. "Palmdale gotta represent too." Why did I say that? I don’t ever reveal where I’m from. It’s the crappiest part of LA County. Unless you don’t count some parts of South LA.
"No shit? You're from Palmdale?"
"Born and raised in the armpit of California," I quip, the alcohol loosening my tongue.
"You say it like it’s a bad thing."
"Palmdale is trash, dude."
"Trust me, I know all about growing up in a poor neighborhood. I’m from East LA." Cruz grins, holding up his fist. I bump it with my own, a gesture of solidarity. "Guess we're both from the wrong side of the tracks, huh?"
"Peas in a pod, my friend. Except, you know, you're probably wiping your ass with hundred dollar bills these days."
He chuckles, but there's a hint of something else in his eyes. Something that looks a lot like understanding. "It's not all it's cracked up to be."
