Page 4 of How to Get Lucky
When I pop in, he’s rocking out to My Chemical Romance, spreadsheets open on his laptop.
I point at the computer speakers. “An excellent choice. I saw them at the Palladium a few years ago. Sick show.”
“Love these guys. And glad to have the DJ’s approval,” he says, leaning back in his chair in that casual manner of his.
“Happy to give it. I’m out of here, but I’ll see you in a few days. We’ve got that double bachelorette party on Thursday, right?”
“We do. Bring your A game. Should be a wild one.”
I smile. “You’ll only get the best. I have some great new tunes and mixes lined up. I’m pretty sure the hot dancers are the main reason those ladies are coming, but hey, everything is better with a good soundtrack.”
“Great, Teddy. Always love hearing the stuff you find. Oh, also,” Archer continues, shifting gears, “your one year with the company is coming up next month.”
“It’s been that long already?” This job has been the best part of a year that started out as a dumpster fire.
“Sounds like a nice time for a raise,” he says, lifting his brows, leading the horse to water.
And, oh yes, I will drink that. Not going to turn down some extra cash. “I am a big fan of raises,” I say with a smile. I’m tempted to add sir in an eager-to-please way, but Archer would roll his eyes, and rightfully so.
I thank him and head out of the club, amped up by the possibility of not just a raise, but of doing everything differently this time around.
2
When most people envision life in Los Angeles, they think of beaches, celebs, and crazy-good food. And they’re not wrong. All those things rock.
But for me, one of the best parts of living in Los Angeles is the twenty-four-hour Target.
Do I frequently find myself walking its aisles at three in the morning? No. But when I do need to hit it after my shift ends, all-hours access to Target is awesome.
Plus, I’m amped up tonight. I can’t stop thinking about the brown-eyed beauty who seemed interested and not interested at the same damn time.
I turn that over in my head as I park my Prius in between two other Priuses. (Or is it Prii? Whatever it is, there are a lot of ’em in LA.)
Will I see her again?
Seems doubtful.
Best to put her out of my mind.
And since it’s pushing one a.m., I make a detour for treats and toys on the way home.
Not for myself, but for my fifty-pound rescue pit bull, David Bowie. I love that gray-and-white ball of muscle. He’s the only thing I salvaged after my breakup with Tracy—the only thing that mattered to me.
Bowie happens to be a dog-toy aficionado, so I make my way to the best aisle in the store and load up my red basket with braided rawhides, salmon chews, and a squeaky duck. Bowie mans the home front while I’m putting on the show, so now and then, he gets a reward for his security work. He’s excited to see me either way, but I’m sure the treats help. Hell, I like treats. I wouldn’t object to someone bringing home treats for me.
I grab some of the store’s special home-baked dog biscuits, then I throw a furry hedgehog toy into the basket because it is a truth universally acknowledged that all pooches in possession of a good hedgie must be in want of nothing. Props to Jane Austen for an epic first line in Pride and Prejudice—a line which can be applied to pretty much anything.
I buy the toys, head home, and give my boy a hello.
Or really, he greets me with a goofy smile and a face lick.
After I take him outside, I toss him his new stuffed playmate, hit the sack, and put the air guitarist out of my mind.
It’s not as if I’m going to see her again.
And if she did come back to the revue, well, that might mean I’m not her type.
Since, ya know, I’m not a stripper. And strippers are generally the reason people frequent the club every weekend when the guys are in all their, as Sam likes to say, abilicious glory.
I do have good abs though. I blame LA for that.
Or really, I thank LA for that.
And as I hit the hay, I don’t think of Miss Air Guitar for one second. Not at all. Not even a little bit.
Women only mean distraction—and I sure as hell don’t need that in my life right now.
* * *
Ever listen to a song you’ve never heard before on the radio and then go home and hear that same song on a TV show? Or a commercial?
I have a theory about that.
It’s not that everyone in the entertainment industry is listening to the same five songs. Though a lot of them are.
