Page 20 of Finding Grey
ELEVEN
______
SEAN
I didn’t lie to Dante. I may, however, have been flexible with the truth.
Alancouldbe my boyfriend, at some stage in the future. He simply wasn’t my boyfriend yet—given this was our first date. A date which I’d invited him onaftermy conversation with Dante. Thankfully, he’d been available on short notice.
“There I was, trying to get thirty copies of this document photocopied before the meeting, only to find someone had turned off the collate setting when I went to get the new toner cartridge.” Alan worked for the local council and he’d spent the last half-hour regaling me with tales of his office adventures. I’d tried to pay attention, honestly, I had. But, holy crap, his work stories were boring. “After all that,” Alan went on, and on, “I still ended up with a ream of paper which needed to be sorted and stapled before the meeting could even start.” He laughed as his tale came to an anti-climactic end. “What a nightmare.”
“Sounds like it,” I said, with an appropriate smile. “Did your meeting go smoothly after that?”
He nodded as he sipped his white wine. “Yes, thank goodness.”
I’d met Alan almost a month ago, when his sister hired me to take photos of the two of them as a birthday present for their mother. I’d worked with his sister while doing freelance photography for a local newspaper, so when she’d needed a photographer, she came to me. Alan had called the week after the photo shoot and asked me out. While I’d turned him down at the time, it wasn’t necessarily because I wasn’t interested. Alan was pleasant looking, with a nice body and perfect teeth, and we’d gotten along well on the day of the shoot. But Benjamin Prince and his band had been due to arrive the following day and I’d been crazy busy preparing the house for their two-week stay. Dating had not been a high priority at the time. Now I only had Dante to take care of, however, I did have time. Not to mention, the motivation. I needed to get laid—pronto.
“Tell me about your job,” he said, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “What’s it like playing host to Dante Sinclair?”
I blinked in surprise. “How did you know about Dante?”
“My sister mentioned it. A friend of hers from one of the big magazines has an interview booked with him next week.”
Dante hadn’t said anything about an interview. Not that he needed to keep me informed about his life, but it helped to know about interviews. If I wasn’t expecting a journalist to show up at the front gate, I could easily assume they were uninvited and turn them away.
“I have to ask or the women in the office will never forgive me.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What’s he really like?”
Quiet. Lonely. Captivating. “I don’t see much of him.”Because I hide from him every chance I get.
“Come on,” he joked. “You have to give me something or I’ll be strung up.”
His persistence wasn’t appreciated. “I don’t thinkThe Bard’s Retreatwould last long if its host went around divulging personal information about the guests.”
“No, of course not.” His sheepish look went some way towards soothing my ire. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’re not the first person to ask about a guest.” He wasn’t after sordid details about Dante’s life. He only wanted enough to impress his workmates, and giving him what he wanted could potentially help with thegetting laidpart of tonight’s agenda. “He always says please and thank you. Makes no unreasonable demands, and…” I leaned forward, as if revealing some great secret, after all, “he has more hair products than any woman I’ve ever known.”
Alan laughed out loud. “Thank you. That should do the trick.”
“You’re welcome.” That hadn’t been so hard. I hadn’t even mentioned the way his voice did things to my insides, or how the warmth of his eyes made me want to confess my secrets.
“I’m not sure why they’d be interested in some no-talent rock star anyway,” Alan added, slicing into his steak. “Other than the handsome face, perhaps.”
My hand clenched around my water glass. “You seriously think he lacks talent?”
“Well, I doubt he sounds like that in real life,” he scoffed. “With all the processing they do to commercial music these days? Anyone could be a singer.”
“He’s not just a singer,” I insisted. “Dante’s written nearly every song he’s ever released. And I’ve seen him perform several times in real life. He really is that good.” I wasn’t sure why I was cranky with Alan about this. Not everyone liked Dante’s music. But the way he’d implied Dante lacked talent bugged the hell out of me. I didn’t know much about music, but I wasn’t deaf. Dante had an amazing voice and his song writing had won every prestigious music award he was eligible for. Personal preferences aside, to deny his talent seemed unreasonable.
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Alan said, holding his hands in the air. “I’ve never seen him in concert. I’m more of a theatre buff.”
“Is that so?” I asked, trying not to laugh.
“Yes, it’s true. I’m one ofthosegay men.” He placed a hand over his chest. “I’m not afraid to drool over a good show tune, and I don’t care who knows it.”
“I promise not to hold it against you,” I told him. “I like a man who’s not afraid to tell the world who he is.”
Alan smiled, his face flushing. “I’m glad to hear it.”