Chapter 4

However, the first words out of the hottie’s mouth—“Excuse me, but aren’t you Bridger Bradford?”—turned him into a stuttering jackass, and it took him a full fifteen seconds to get it together and spit out a, “Yes.” Even that was barely intelligible. So now he was apparently not only living in a bad eighties movie where the mannequin, or in this case magazine ad model, comes to life, but also knows his name. He couldn’t take his eyes off of this obvious figment of his imagination. Bridger set down his drink to be on the safe side.

When it eventually became clear to the ad-come-to-life that Bridger had swallowed his tongue or otherwise surrendered the gift of speech, he carried on. “You probably don’t remember, but we went to high school together. Right? Didn’t you go to Riordan?”

When Bridger gave what could have been a nod, the man offered his hand to shake. “My name’s Kai.”

After another oddly long pause, Bridger gave a tentative handshake. “My name is Bridger,” he stammered.