Page 21 of Scrap Metal & Love Reforged

Seth shrugged. “They’re usually nicer than this.”

He winked and grinned crookedly— joking. Still, hecouldjoke about things like that and leave me uncertain. I knew damn well this was the nicest place I’d ever been in my life, and I felt like if I looked or stared at anything too hard, the whole building might bust apart around me.

As we entered the ballroom, I shifted awkwardly, my eyes darting about the room. Not everyone was dressed so much more nicely than me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I stood out.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with thick, blond hair and blue eyes strode up. He was clearly one of the affluent ones, judging by his high-end duds. That tailored tuxedo must’ve cost a fortune. For a wild second, I wondered if he was an over-dressed bouncer and about to throw me out, correctly insisting I didn’t belong here.

“Hello,Brandon,” Seth said, grinning. “You’re looking nice.”

“Thank you,” the man replied. “So do you.”

“Always do,” Seth said, with a dismissive wave. “I brought a guest. Troy, this is Brandon, the director of this magnificent production.”

“I wouldn’t call it magnificent—” Brandon began.

“Of course, you wouldn’t. You’ve no sense of what makes good art.”

“And you would, of course,” Brandon said with a tinge of sarcasm.

“Without a doubt,” Seth replied.

Brandon rolled his eyes and ruefully shook his head, as if he wasn’t sure how to handle Seth. Then again, most people didn’t.

“How is Alex?” Seth asked.

“Fine,” Brandon replied, waving toward a dark-haired man who stood across the room, seemingly deep in conversation with the young, African American woman beside him.

“Alex is a make-up artist,” Seth said, smiling at me. “The best. He does blood and gore like no one else.”

“Is that how you always introduce him?” I asked.

Brandon snorted. “Probably. What do you do, Troy?”

My face grew hot, and although I knew it was completely absurd, I was struck by the sudden fear that this was all some elaborate scheme concocted to humiliate me. How could I tell these people I was a freakingmechanic? They were all probably stockbrokers or billionaires’ kids, maybe both.

“He’s a mechanic,” Seth cut in, before I could say anything. “And an artist. He does junk assemblage.”

“Wow! That must take a lot of skill,” Brandon said, “To be a mechanic.”

He sounded…nice. I felt my shoulders relax just a little bit.

“I guess. It certainly has a learning curve,” I replied, “But I like it well enough.”

It would be nice if it paid more, though. Just a little bit more.

Brandon nodded. His blue eyes were wide and earnest. It was impossible not to return his easy grin or to melt into that sort of kind, attentive look.

“That’s good. It took meforeverto land on something I really liked,” Brandon replied.

“And you chose directing at the behest ofsomeone,” Seth said.

Brandon clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You weren’t the only one telling me to stick with directing.”

“But I did put in significantly more effort than most,” Seth replied.

Alex, the dark-haired man who Brandon had waved at, joined us. He flashed me a brilliant grin.

“Alex, Troy,” Seth said. “Troy, Alex.”