was out drinking and carousing. “No, just a long night. I didn't sleep much.”
Sam eyed him. “Don’t I know it.”
Eli scoffed and loped over to the fresh pot of coffee. If he could just get a full cup into himself, maybe he'd start feeling human again. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that my usually pin-neat brother is sort of a disheveled mess at seven in the morning. Your hair is out of sorts, and your clothes are wrinkled.” Sam’s eyes widened. “And torn. Considering you have a nicer closet than half the women I sleep with, that’s unusual. And given that you’re rolling through at nearly the ass crack of dawn, I'd say this is your rendition of coming off a glorious bender or the walk of shame.”
Eli opened his mouth to speak, but Sam continued.
“And given my history with the devil’s nectar and other things, and the fact that you are as anal about my recovery as you are about your clothes, there’s no way that you would show up here hung over. So that leaves a walk of shame. And I got to tell you big brother, I need to meet the woman who can rattle you.”
“I'm not rattled.” Bullshit. He'd actually slept with a woman. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. He didn’t want for sex, but he could never relax enough to actually fall asleep with a woman in his bed. That was why he preferred to go to their place, that way he could just leave and go home and get some rest. But at Jessica’s he'd literally passed out.
“Whatever you say, man. I think it's great. A woman will give you someone else to worry about besides me.”
“No woman, Sam. I'm just wreck-tired is all.” Then, because he didn’t want Sam probing into his shit, he said, “You brought down the house last night. I don’t think there was one unhorny woman in the place.”
Sam grinned. “I aim to please.” Cocking his head, he added, “Now if only I could get paid more than a hundred and twenty bucks for booking the event.”
“You didn’t sell the piece?”
Sam rolled his eyes, “Did you see who was in there? The young-fabulous-and-broke set is too worried about making rent to be able to afford that kind of a piece, and the MILF art groupies just creep me out.”
“They have money, Sam. Besides, you’re not afraid of a couple of horny cougars, are you?”
Sam sneered at him. “Ha. Ha. Someone decided to play Kevin Hart tonight. One of them offered me a grand if I'd recreate the whole club scene back in her car.” He shuddered. “Gross.”
Eli blinked at his brother, then after a moment, unable to contain the roar of laughter bubbling up, he released it. “You've got to be kidding me.”
“I really wish I was. Why couldn't I find a hot, young heiress to buy it and make me a pet?”
“We need to get you some better exposure, bro. I'll make some more calls this week. I think I have a lead on a couple of managers. They mostly do actors, but it's worth a shot.”
Sam's eyes widened. “Ooh, ooh ooh ooh!” He put down the brush and started searching the stacks of papers, receipts, and wrappers on his utility table. “Where the hell did I put that thing?”
“What thing?”
“There it is.” Sam snatched a business card off the counter. “Some artist manager dropped off their card after the show for me. You know anything about them?”
Eli frowned as he took the proffered card. He been sitting at the bar all night and hadn’t seen anyone hand anything to Gabe. But then again, he’d been distracted by the pixie in the wig.
He fingered the bold lettering and examined it. It read: J. Stanton Artist Management. Good card stock, great design. “No, but I’ll do some research.” The name Stanton was a familiar one in the Los Angeles art circles, but he didn’t know if this was some fake trying to capitalize on the name.
“Cool. Oh, and I set an appointment for tomorrow. It would rock to start doing legit exhibitions and get away from the club scene.”
Eli's senses went on alert. The hairs on his neck stood up. “You need to call Jocelyn?”
“Already called my sponsor. I know how to take care of myself, E. You don’t have to do it forever.”
Said the guy who’d been on the brink of death not so long ago. “Yeah, I know. I’m