About That Night (FBI/US Attorney #3)(38)
This had not escaped Rylann’s attention. “I wouldn’t want any part of that scene, anyway,” she said with a shrug.
“Right. Because the hot guy scene is such a drag.”
“I meant Kyle’s scene. How many times did I see his name mentioned in Scene and Heard, PageSix, or TMZ.com, gossiping about how he was with some model at a hot new club or restaurant?”
Rae raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, how many times did you see that?” Her tone turned sly. “Wait a second…have you been Googling Kyle Rhodes these past nine years, Ms. Pierce?”
Rylann blushed furiously at that. “No,” she said as Rae began laughing in delight. She shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling like a witness in the hot seat. “I may have accidentally, wholly inadvertently, stumbled across his name one or two times”—or ten—”when I happened to be perusing a few gossip websites. That’s all.”
As Rae continued to smile, Rylann shot her a look over her martini glass. “Oh, like you’ve never looked up a guy you once knew on Facebook or anything.”
“So you admit it.”
Rylann tossed her hair back dismissively. “I admit nothing except for the fact that the man is now my witness.”
“Over ninety percent of federal criminal cases plead out before going to trial, Ry.” Rae winked knowingly. “Kyle Rhodes won’t be your witness forever.”
LATER THAT EVENING, Rylann sat cross-legged on her bed with her laptop open. She’d been dreading this moment since she’d gotten home—trying to come up with some kind of appropriate response to Jon’s e-mail.
Finally, she typed, HI YOURSELF.
She immediately deleted it. That sounded too flirty.
This prompted a new question: Did she want to sound flirty?
Definitely not—he’d dumped her.
So she tried again. GOOD TO HEAR FROM YOU, she began, before deleting that, too. Frankly, it wasn’t all that great to hear from him. Particularly since he’d thrown her into a tailspin over the damn Hi and now she was up at night, writing and rewriting a response to an e-mail that barely deserved one.
So ignore it. He’ll get the hint.
But ignoring it made it seem as if she wasn’t ready to face Jon, even via e-mail, and that wasn’t the case. She was…okay with the breakup.
She perked up as that realization hit her. Suddenly, the pressure to write the perfect response was gone, and she just went with her gut.
HEY YOU—HOPE ALL IS WELL IN ROME AND THAT IT’S EVERYTHING YOU WERE LOOKING FOR. IF YOU GET A CHANCE, DROP ME A LINE IN ANOTHER SIX MONTHS. : )
There. She read it again and was satisfied that she’d struck just the right tone. Friendly enough—she’d even thrown in a smiley face emoticon—but not overly so. Assuming the whole point of Jon’s e-mail was to check in and see how she was doing, her reply conveyed the message that he was free and clear to go about his business.
And also that she was going about hers.
Fourteen
KYLE CAREFULLY EASED his car into a tight parking spot, trying hard not to laugh at the sight of Dex, who stood on the sidewalk sporting a visor over a brown mess of seriously ridiculous bed hair.
After shutting off the engine, Kyle grabbed the handle of the gull-wing door of his Mercedes and pushed the door open upward toward the sky.
Dex grinned. “Dude, I don’t care how many times I’ve seen you do that. That car is so f**king cool.”
No disagreement there. Kyle pushed the button on his key, locking the car, and pointed to his friend’s head. “Any particular explanation for the hair?”
“A hookup that ran late.”
“I really hope she didn’t see you on the way out. Because I think I see a gaggle of birds nesting in there.” Not that it was the first time Kyle had seen Dex looking less than stellar, seeing how they’d shared an apartment their senior year of college and also during the two years thereafter.
“That’s funny, man.”
“I thought so. How was the hookup?”
“Good enough to last until noon,” Dex said with a grin. Then he turned to the matter at hand, proudly gesturing to the bar they stood in front of. “Ready to check out the place?”
“Absolutely,” Kyle said.
Eight years ago, after managing a campus bar in Champaign, Dex had moved up to Chicago and opened a sports bar on the north side of the city. Having done well for himself with that venture, he was now opening his second bar, an upscale nightclub called Firelight in the heart of the city’s affluent Gold Coast neighborhood.
Once inside, Dex first gave Kyle a tour of the main bar. From the looks of the sable suede lounge chairs and couches, the large curving bar, and the subtle touches of deep red and copper fabric throughout, it appeared that Dex had spared no expense.
Next, Dex led him up some steps that would take them to a VIP lounge. “We open in four weeks. I heard a rumor that the food and dining section of the Trib is going to run an article this weekend, calling it the most anticipated bar opening of the season.” He pointed. “You’ll be there, right?”
“Ten U.S. marshals couldn’t keep me away.” Kyle looked up at the ceiling and admired the glittering sheets of red and burnt orange wavy glass. “Like fire. Nice touch.”
“I worked with the designer for almost a month on that.” Dex lifted the visor up to scratch his forehead, then caught Kyle’s grin. “Come on. The hair’s not that bad.”