Dinner?
Hudson
Hell yes
Paul, the corporate sales guy wasn’t his best friend, but his stomach was gnawing on his backbone, and he needed to eat.
Paul
Meet you downstairs at that Italian place
Hudson
Give me 5
He shoved his feet into his sneakers and checked his hair in the mirror, then grabbed his wallet and his room key. He could do some damage to a big bowl of pasta.
He was a little uncomfortable because he knew he could run into Jack any time. He had a plan. He wasn’t going to go out of his way to find Jack, but he wasn’t going to avoid him either.
It was Friday, so they’d missed last night’s show, but from what he’d seen, it had gone well. Mackey was back on the dirt, which had to make everyone happy. Tonight, they’d eat and head over to watch. Tomorrow was some big expo thing, and they’d have a booth and show off the gloves. It was a work weekend.
The entire hotel was buzzing with cowboys—gambling and wandering, eating and drinking and schmoozing—and Paul was talking with one of the guys when Hudson walked out of the elevator.
Okay, showtime.
“Hudson!” Paul gave him a wave. Paul was wearing a fucking suit that screamed “I’m the money guy”. It was probably deliberate, some marketing thing that made him the guy who could talk bull riding and Paul the guy you went to and made the deal. At least he didn’t have on a tie too.
“Hey, Paul. What’s good?”
“I’m just talking with?—”
“Hudson! I didn’t know you’d be in town this weekend.”
“Hey, Cy. You rode well last night.” They shook hands.
“Thanks, man. Jack on his way down? I can get us a big table at one of the restaurants.”
Shit, what did he say to that? And had they been that… out? “I don’t know. Paul and I are having a business dinner.”
“Oh. Oh, dude. Sorry. My bad. I was just hoping to hang with the cool kids.” Cy waved and pushed himself off the wall. “Y’all have fun.”
Paul watched the guy go. “What was that about?”
“Nothing. I just know a bunch of the riders.”And the pickup man. Cy probably thought he’d said something he shouldn’t have.
“I would hope so. That name recognition will get us through the door with the riders.”
“It already has. You have to play that hand slowly though.” They wandered toward the restaurant past a sea of slot machines and television screens. He was never sure how he felt about Vegas. He loved the energy and the constant bustle, but got tired of it fast.
And despite just telling himself he wouldn’t, he couldn’t stop searching for Jack. He knew Jack was here, and now he had no doubt Jack would hear he was in town soon.
He wanted to see Jack. Of course he did. He just wanted Jack to miss being able to see him.
Assuming he could pull it off. His willpower when it came to Jack was…sketchy at best.
“I’m thinking chicken parm.” Paul stuck his hands in his pockets as they strolled on their way to dinner.
“I want pasta. Maybe fettuccini.” His stomach growled.