“Did you hear me? I said he is bad news Harlow. Don’t be making eyes at the man-whore across the room.”

I felt spell bound but managed a moment of lucidity. I was probably suffering from jet lag. Although I wasn’t sure you got jet lag from Savannah to Los Angeles.

“I’m not.”

Bridget rolled her eyes. “He’ll be notching those two girls on his belt tonight. And he’ll probably eat another one before breakfast.” She sat down next to me. “He’s your quintessential bad boy.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Have you…?”

Bridget looked horrified, like I’d just stuck her with a fork. “What? Him? Are you kidding me? No way! But I know plenty of girls who have and I’m telling you now, he’s a heartbreaker.”

Someone in the party screamed playfully drawing our attention away from Heath. When I looked back, he was gone. Disappointed, I sipped my beer.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t my fav’rite Southern belle,” came an exaggerated Southern accent from behind us. I peered over my shoulder at the handsome young man walking towards us. He climbed over Bridget to squeeze in between us even though the other side of the booth was vacant.

Sighing he kissed Bridget on the cheek and then turned to look at me. “My God you’re beautiful!” he exclaimed, and then looking back at Bridget added cheekily, “wish I was part of your gene pool.”

“Don’t mind Leo,” said Bridget, leaning forward and smiling, “He’s our bartender. But he’s also the resident gossip here at The Pizza Palace, so be warned.”

Leo looked surprised then smiled proudly. “And I’m fabulous at it. Now tell me all about you.”

“Be careful Harlow, it’ll all be around town tomorrow.”

“Oh hush!” He waved off Bridget, and then turned back to me with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, and mouthed, “She’s such a liar.”

“You’re right … it won’t be your version, Harlow. It’ll be Leo’s souped up version.” She looked fondly at my new friend, adding, “Leo is very creative.”

He shrugged innocently. “So, I have been known to bend the truth on occasion.”

“Bend the truth? On occasion? Leo, you’re a real Steven Spielberg.”

He grinned. “I’m flattered.”

I smiled, and shrugged. “My story isn’t very interesting I’m afraid.” Nodding towards the club where everyone was celebrating. “Why don’t you put those creative super powers to work and tell me about some of the people here?” I suggested, keen to distract Leo’s interest from me and redirect it somewhere else.

“Oh, this will be good,” Bridget murmured.

“Oooh, what a fabulous idea. Who would you like me to start with? Randy pants over by the jukebox or Mr. Hot Jock over there with all those glorious muscles and his jeans slung so low I’m surprised we haven’t seen the pet weasel pop out.”

Bridget almost choked on her beer. I smiled and allowed my eyes to rest on the guy I now knew as Heath.

“Let’s start with the pet weasel,” I said.

Leo rolled his eyes. “They all want to know about Heath Dillinger darling.”

“All?” I raised my eyebrow.

“Ohhh, I like that,” Leo said, referring to my arched brow, “very Scarlet O’Hara.” He turned back to Heath who was now talking to three girls. “Every single girl that comes to the Pizza Palace sets her target on that lovely piece of man meat. And rumor has it, he doesn’t disappoint.” He sighed dramatically, and flopped his chin down onto his hand, adding dreamily, “Pity he doesn’t bat for my team. I could eat him with a side salad and a nice bottle of Chianti.”

“Ugh, now you just sound like a creepy Hannibal Lecter,” Bridget said.

“Like Hannibal Lecter wasn’t already creepy enough?” I asked.

“Hannibal Lecter with a twist of camp,” Bridget replied.

“Say what you like my fair ladies, but that man put the sex in sex stick!”

“And he’s put that sex stick in half the women in Orange County.” Bridget eyed me. “Anyway, Harlow has a man back home, don’t you Harlow?”

I looked away.

“Do tell,” Leo insisted, nudging me with his shoulder.

“He is a thousand miles away. And he’s not really my man anymore.”

Bridget looked shocked. “What?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m not in a hurry to go anywhere,” Bridget said.

“Family gossip, I do love you Southern folk!” Leo interjected with a beaming smile.

“We are on a break,” I explained.

“Do your parents know?” Bridget asked, and when I looked away, added, “They don’t? Harlow, you’ve got a big debutante season coming up—“

“And that is almost five months away.” I gave my cousin a stern look. “So until then, I’m not going to worry about Colton, the deb ball or my parents, okay.”

Bridget nodded. “Now I understand why you were so desperate to get out of Savannah.”

“Colton? Your beau is called Colton?” Leo asked.

“He’s not my beau.”

“You’re non-beau is called Colton?”

“Colton Labousse,” I said.

“Ugh! No wonder you dumped his ass.” Leo pulled a face. Then seeing his latest crush across the room, he exclaimed, “Oooh good, there’s Jeremy. Apparently he can suck a snooker ball through a vacuum cleaner pipe. And that basically ticks all the boxes for me.” He stood up. “So if you will excuse me ladies, I’m going to have to bid you adieu.”

“You’re deserting us Leo?” asked Bridget.

“Honey I’m going to go and get myself laid.”

We watched him disappear across the room toward a rather effeminate looking lad with short dark hair and fluid, feminine movements.

Bridge climbed out of the booth, ready to get back to work. “And that tornado was Leo Hamilton.”

“I like him.”

“He was the first person I met out here. He came straight up to me and told me I had the most fascinating eyes he had ever seen. Then he proceeded to ask me to bear his children if I was still single at thirty, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

I laughed. “I would expect that of him.”

A very attractive redhead appeared next to us. She was all of five-foot nothing with the longest red hair I’d ever seen. It was a stunning shade and tumbled in thick waves to her waist. When she smiled, she looked like a beauty queen. God the guys back home would flip over her.

“Hi, I’m Piper. You and I are going to work together,” she said as she sat down next to me. She was very cute and when she smiled she reminded me of the Australian actress, Isla Fisher.

“Piper is one of the other waitresses here,” Bridget explained, unnecessarily. “Her other half is in a band with Heath.”

The gorgeous man-creature was in a band?

“Actually they’re playing later at Epic,” Piper said.

Epic? I looked at Bridget.

“It’s a club,” she explained.

“You guys should come and watch them play. I’m going there later. Jesse and Heath just dropped me off because they wanted to wish Fat Tony a happy birthday.”

“I’m working. But you should go, Harlow,” said Bridget.

“Yeah, Harlow. Come and see them with me. It’ll be fun.” Piper really was stunning when she smiled. And cute. Adorable, even.

“I’m not really dressed for a club.” Not that I knew what people wore to clubs out here. But I was still dressed in the knee length day dress and cashmere cardigan I’d left Georgia in. I wasn’t sure if pearls and cashmere were acceptable club wear.

“You look fine. Hey, this is California … anything goes.” Bridget winked.

“So you’ll come?” Piper asked, tucking one leg underneath her.

I looked to Bridget.

“You should go. Have some fun.”

I shrugged. I’d come to California after an adventure. It might as well start now. “Okay.”

Piper squealed and hugged me like I’d just offered her a kidney.

I stayed at The Pizza Palace for another couple of hours where I met the other staff members I’d be working with over the summer. Coralee had worked as a waitress at The Pizza Palace for over thirty years. She had a kind smile and big dangling plastic earrings that jingled as she spoke. Joey was young with shaggy brown hair and dark green eyes. He was one of the bartenders and seemed a little shy.