Page 179 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet
18
THE RISKS OF SARDINING
TJ
A sleek black limo pulls to the curb a few minutes later, the late afternoon sun glinting on the roof. We slide into the opulent vehicle, and Slade claps. “Well done, men. Well fucking done.”
“Thanks?” I say, but with a question mark. “Did something happen just now?”
“You have a ship name!” Slade announces.
And I also have a burst eardrum from the PR guy shouting in glee. I rub my knuckles against my ear. “Ow.”
“Oh, hush. You can handle my excitement.” Slade thrusts his phone at us, clicking on the Instagram handleAll The Tea. “They’re calling you... wait.” He jerks his phone back to his chest, clutches it close. “You want to guess?”
I take the bait. “I’ll go . . . Tude.”
Jude grabs his stomach, cracking up. Good. I wanted to make him laugh.
“Guess again,” Slade says.
“JudeJay,” Jude offers.
Slade makes a rolling gesture with his hand, his eyes flickering with glee. “Nope. Keep going.”
I rattle off options like a wordsmith getting his mojo back. “HardFox. FoxHard. ManFox,” I say, and Slade shakes his head with each one. Then Jude and I both blurt out, “FoxMan.”
Slade pumps a fist. “Yes! Is that a beautiful name or what? It makes me so very, very happy,” he says, indulging in a long, contented sigh. Damn, this man digs his job.
“So you picked us up to tell us that?” I ask, curious.
Slade scoffs. “No, I picked you up because this is next level, and it’s given me all sorts of ideas.”
But his devilish tone gives me all sorts of pause. “What kind of ideas?”
Slade looks at the two of us. “You like music, don’t you?”
Who doesn’t? “Love it,” I say.
“TJ introduced me to music in London,” Jude says matter-of-factly.
“The Goat’s Nipple,” I whisper.
Jude smiles.
Slade furrows his brow. “You didn’t know music before?”
Jude shakes his head. “I had awful taste. He gave me good taste,” Jude says, nostalgic, and so am I.
“Aww. That’s too cute. Can you share that with the press? That’d be fun for an interview.”
I look to Jude to gauge his reaction. His eyes saynah.So does my gut. Some things are only for the two of us. “I think we might keep that between us,” I say.
“Fair enough,” Slade says, then rubs his palms. “Anyway, I was gonna have you do a pool and darts hang out with the New York Leopards, but I want to go bigger. Put you guys out there more. Really embrace the FoxMan mojo. How do you feel about first-class travel?”
“Is there any other way to fly?” I ask.
“There is not.” My fake boyfriend offers me a hand for high-fiving.