“You’re right,” the guy says. “I’ll rephrase that. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
His grin widens. “Can I get you another drink?”
“She’ll take a chardonnay,” says a familiar voice behind me. “And a lager for me, as long as you’re making the trip.”
“Hello, Deiss.” I turn around with a warm smile. In all the Thursdays we’ve met, this might be the first time he’s ever shown up early. It’s a rare treat, having him all to myself.
“Hello, Liv.” He flashes a smile, bright white against the darkness of his full beard. “I see you’re collecting your usual stable of admirers.”
“Apparently, I looked lonely,” I say.
“I amended it to beautiful,” the guy reminds me.
“Oh, yes,” I say to Deiss. “I forgot that we decided to rewind.”
“Are you going to fast-forward to the part where you break his heart,” Deiss asks, “or should I grab our drinks and give you two a moment to talk?”
“Thank you for the offer,” I say, glancing over at the guy, “and for the compliment, but I’m going to have to pass on the drink.”
“No problem,” the guy says, backing away. “I was just trying to be friendly.”
“That’s what I love about LA,” Deiss says, turning his attention to the mess on the table. “Everyone’s so friendly. They’ll give you the shirt right off their back.”
“As long as it’s guaranteed to end up on the floor at the foot of your bed?”
“Exactly.”
We grin at each other, and my skin flushes warm.
“Slow day at the shop?” I ask, referring to Studio Sounds, the record store Deiss owns.
“No more than usual. I saw your text, though, and figured I’d head over so you wouldn’t be stuck here alone.” He reaches for a dirty glass as he glances back at the slick guy, who has rejoined his friends. “Should’ve known there was little chance of that.”
I search my brain for a clever response but am distracted by the sight of him transferring the mess from our table to one next to us that has just opened up. Usually, he’s lounging against something, surveying everyone else’s efforts like we’re all putting on a show for his personal entertainment. Still, as strange as it is to see him tidying, he manages to do it in a way that looks like no effort at all. It’s like he’s yawning, his arms stretching out lazily, just happening to accomplish something in the movement.
“How is the shop?” I ask instead. Business has been slow because, shockingly, in the time of streaming music, records aren’t exactly a hot commodity. But last year, Deiss rearranged it to be able to host after-hours concerts with local bands.
“Poorly managed.” Deiss grins and leans against the now emptied table. He makes it look so comfortable that I want to slide off my chair and copy him. “I keep getting distracted by the new guitar stock, Booker is worthless, and Mia scares all the customers off. I am looking into getting a liquor license, though.”
“For the basement shows?”
He nods. “The door money is good, but a lot of the profit comes from liquor sales.”
“How do you know if you haven’t gotten the license yet?”
“I’ve been charging people for shots and pouring it into their mouths from the bottle.”
“Deiss!” I force a frown, even though I can’t help secretly being a little delighted by his insubordination. I’ve always been jealous of the way he seems so unencumbered by the rules.
He offers a shrug in response. “No cups, no proof, right?”
I tsk my disapproval, but thanks to the arrival of our friends, I don’t feel obligated to verbalize it. They come in together, conspicuous despite the crowd. It’s probably Mac who draws the most attention. Men of his height and good looks tend to be noticeable, especially if you’ve seen his latest underwear ad. But it’s Phoebe, dark and willowy with an Afro that makes her look several inches taller than she is, who my eyes go to.
As always, she’s wearing mismatched pieces she’s likely uncovered at a thrift shop. They shouldn’t work to make an outfit, but of course they somehow manage to. She looks effortlessly cool, like she belongs on one of the pages of the magazine she writes for, the complete opposite of me and my carefully chosen neutrals and fresh blowout. I want to take a picture of the textures and patterns, the shocks of color, so I can study it and figure out how it all works together. It’s the kind of understanding that’s invaluable for my work in graphic design.