Dylan

“Thanks Mr. Price. And Happy Birthday.”

The tiny teenaged valet beams at me as I hand him my keys and a generous tip. I could tell he was a fan since his chubby face lit up and he practically buzzed with excitement when he saw me exit my car. I thank him for his birthday wish, but before I could make much small talk, the boy’s eyes widen. I am completely forgotten.

 

“Wow.”

 

I follow his gaze and my eyes go wide too.

 

“Tell me about it, kid.”

 

I mutter to the valet as Bryce appears to glide toward us dressed in a pale blue, almost sheer, short sleeve shirt that displays his muscular arms. The shirt has three buttons undone, but the clingy fabric leaves little to the imagination anyway. Being the clothes horse I am, his royal blue dress pants, brown Italian leather shoes and matching belt briefly catch my attention. However, my eyes shamelessly return to his cleavage. I feel myself swallow.

Bryce clears his throat, but I barely register the sound over my heart pounding in my ears.  When I don’t respond, he hooks a finger under my chin, so that my gaze meets his. He smirks at me with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

 

“Shall we, birthday boy?”

 

He offers his arm, and I take it without much thought, unable to tear my gaze from his smiling face and perfectly coifed hair. He looks like a prince.

When we reach the restaurant, he unhooks our arms gently and opens the door for me. I am disappointed that he does not offer his arm again.

 

Booming party music hits us immediately. The sushi restaurant looks more like a club since the tables have been removed, leaving only the chocolate-brown leather booths along the walls and some tables set up with sushi, seafood platters, and other goodies. 

The lighting is dim but there are spotlights moving around the room, briefly illuminating the happy faces of my friends/colleagues from the agency and a few of my hometown buddies whom I’ve kept in touch with. Amy did a good job with the guest list.

Everyone seems to be having a blast already, except maybe the nervous newbie actors and interns who are grouped together near the refreshments. I’m not worried about them though. They will loosen up once they realize that we all act like big kids when we get together. 

Suddenly, the loud intro to a raunchy pop song catches everyone’s attention. Andy, Lithe, and Kyle, three slightly younger male actors, are standing on a stage near the back of the room. They start dancing suggestively and then they step up to three microphones. In perfect harmony, they sing embarrassing lyrics about wanting to ride something or another. Many female party goers form a crowd in front of the stage, whooping encouragement, and brandishing dollar bills. Andy, Lithe, and Kyle give their best Magic Mike impersonations mixed with their own brand of goofiness. 

As I giggle at the display, I notice Amy near the seafood station, talking to the staff. She looks like a knockout with her sleek straight hair, black cocktail dress, and matching 6-inch heels. I look at Bryce as I bounce up and down like a puppy asking for permission to play. I love parties, but he's not much for crowds so I don't want to ditch him. He smiles fondly at me with his hands in his pockets. Ever the cool one, this guy.

Once I get his nod of approval, I run over to Amy, and we squeal in delight as I scoop her off her feet into a big hug. I set her back down and we launch into a high-speed conversation about how great we both look and what a great job she did with the party.

 

“Where’s you date?”

 

Amy yells over the music.

 

“Shhhh! He’s not my date! And he’s standing over there with Oly and Gale.”

 

We both look across the room to where Bryce stands with a strikingly handsome man wearing a black leather jacket and the air of a mafia prince. That’s Oly. Sitting in the booth next to him is a diminutive, expensive-looking man in a black and orange silk shirt, lounging like he owns the place. That’s Gale.

Gale and Oly are the reason our agency started packaging a few of us as duo performers. Their chemistry on and off screen is absolutely enviable. Since they have both been in the industry longer than Bryce and me, and they are a few years older than us, Bryce and I look up to them quite a bit.

 

“Bryce looks so good! How did you get him to wear your favorite color?”

 

Amy pokes me in the ribs and I lightly poke her back.

 

“I didn’t really have to convince him. I just picked out his outfit and he agreed. He wouldn’t let me see it beforehand though. He just walked out of the dressing room in his street clothes and said, ‘the clothes fit’.”

 

Amy chuckled. I stared at her for a moment and then I leaned closer so she could hear me without me yelling.

 

“Did you bring a date today?”

 

Amy blushes slightly and I think I see her eyes fix on something behind me. I see her agent, Brian, a handsome black man, talking to my agent Amelie. 

Amelie is a gorgeous trans woman who always looks like the cat who swallowed the canary. Though she appears to be listening to Brian, her gaze is fully on Amy and me. She raises her glass and I nod back. Why do I feel like she’s reading my soul right now?

There were several other people around them, so I was not able to pinpoint the direction of Amy’s gaze. I look back at her with a questioning look.

 

“I-I don’t have a date, but I may have a little crush.”

 

“Really? Amy, that’s great! Who is it?”

 

I try to sound supportive, but I feel a twinge of jealousy. Selfish, I know.

 

Amy doesn’t get to answer me because we are both startled by someone yelling near us. I recognize my friends Evan and Miles, and it is no surprise that they are arguing again. The two actors have been best friends since high school, but they are known for their fiery tempers, especially with each other.  

 

“Evan! We said we wouldn’t do this.”

 

“Do what, Miles? I’m not doing anything.”

 

“You’re making a scene.”

 

“Well, half the people in here are actors. They’re used to it.”

 

Evan rolls his eyes and turns to stomp away from Miles, but Miles grabs his arm roughly. Evan promptly throws his drink in the taller man’s face. Miles glares back like he wants to hit him, but hopefully that won’t happen since Miles towers over almost everyone in the room and is easily the most muscular person here. I wouldn’t want to get in a fight with him. 

Evan, on the other hand, ignores the fact that he’s at a serious physical disadvantage and pounds against Miles’ firm chest with his free hand. The clear plastic cup that once held Evan’s drink bounces on the floor at their feet.

 

“Let me go, you brute!”

 

“Not until you calm down!”

 

Miles pulls Evan against his chest so that both his arms are trapped. Evan pulls away with all his might, but he struggles in vain. He stops struggling and glares daggers at Miles. If looks could kill, Miles would have been dead three years ago.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Miles’ voice is much softer. If Amy and I were not so close to them, we would not have heard him.

 

“For what?”

 

Evan spat his words like venom, but suddenly would not meet Miles’ eyes.

 

“We both know why you’re angry.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.”

 

Miles’ gaze and grip soften, and Evan takes the chance to escape. He looks like he wants to say something, but then he makes a beeline for the door. Miles stares after him and then follows.

They storm past Amelie, who is their agent also, and she gives them a pointed look with thin lips.

 

“Those two are in trouble.”

 

Amy comments beside me. I nod.

 

“Sure are. Glad it isn’t me.”

 

Later that night, I regretted jinxing myself. As Bryce angrily storms out the building, all eyes are on me, including Amelie’s. 

Looks like Evan and Miles aren’t the only two in trouble.