“No,” I said. “I’m serious. I picked that guy up. In my DAC. Last night.”

Vanessa blinked and stared out at the televisions.

“Lotti” was on screen, still standing in the middle of the group of women. He pumped his hips back and forth while the women executed sexily choreographed dance moves around him with remarkable precision.

Vanessa finally spoke. “You mean…Ryan Hooks?” She said it as if she’d said “Santa Claus” and my sanity was at question. “You picked up Ryan Hooks in your DAC last night?”

I blinked. “That’s Ryan Hooks?” I asked. “Ryan Hooks, Ryan Hooks?”

“Yes…” she said slowly. “You do know who Ryan Hooks is?”

“Of course,” I said. “I guess I didn’t know what he looked like.” I’d heard of the Grammy-winning singer and could even sing a few of his songs, but I’d always imagined that he’d be a bit younger and more baby-faced than the sultry man I’d met the night before.

But it was definitely him.

I knew faces; I drew faces.

“Ness, that’s the man I picked up, I promise.”

Vanessa knew me well enough to know that it wasn’t the kind of thing I’d make up. Her expression slowly began to shift from confusion to concern to excitement.

“How? Where?” she asked.

“I picked him up at the Renouvelle. In South Loop. And took him to an apartment building in the Gold Coast.”

“No way,” she said breathlessly. “Not possible. It had to be a look-alike.”

“No,” I said, looking back at the screen as he spun around in a circle and then stared seductively at the camera. I thought about the man’s face as he leaned forward in the back seat of my car. “It was him.”

Vanessa seemed to be processing, and then her eyes lit up. “What did you mean he flirted with you?”

I blushed. “That might’ve been a stretch,” I said. “But he was very nice.”

Vanessa shook her head. “There still a good chance it was a look-alike,” she said. “But if it wasn’t, hot damn. That’s amazing. He is so hot. You should’ve flirted back.”

I laughed. “Well, he forgot all about me once he saw his date.”

I didn’t think Vanessa could look any more shocked than she had, but her eyes got even wider, and she took a step backward.

“You saw Tiffane!” she asked. “No, no, no. Paula, do not tell me you saw Tiffane and did not get an autograph for me.”

“The actress?” I asked, frowning. “No…”

We stared at each other for a few moments, and then realization set in. Vanessa put both hands to her mouth.

“You saw him with someone else.”