Between the Lines

Chapter 36

CHAPTER 36

CHARLOTTE

LA is hot.

I’m compensating by lounging in my bikini on one of the large deck chairs by the infinity pool. I’ve gone swimming twice already. Now, I’m fascinated by a little lizard that has been braving the afternoon sun by darting out to drink the pool water, and I’ve watched him make the trek almost half a dozen times since lunch.

What would it be like to live here?

Not this house. I’m now familiar with that, and I know it’s most definitely temporary. I’m also trying very hard not to get too used to the fabulous water pressure, the large marble slabs in the kitchen, and the expensive art on the walls.

But to be in one place permanently. To have a garden, maybe. I’ve never planted anything in my life, but I’d like to try. To drive down to the ocean on the weekends. Maybe find a place to work out. I rarely do that during my assignments. That’s why running has become such a good form of exercise for me. But I used to love doing Pilates in college. And it has been years since I attended a class.

Maybe I could even make a few friends. New friends. Not friends for a season, but for years. Lifelong friends.

Find a farmers market to frequent every weekend, and have a garage that slowly accumulates a bunch of the junk that a life lived well inevitably seems to produce.

Sprout roots.

The lizard darts out again, and I watch his feet move at an inhumane speed to the water’s edge. I run a hand through my still-damp hair and push my laptop back into the shade.

I’ve got plenty of core chapters done for Aiden’s memoir, even though I had to craftily fill in the blanks on more occasions than I like. The books I bought on corporate fraud have helped with the more challenging passages. I’ve added some excerpts from the news articles, too, something I’m certain Aiden will want to cut out of the draft. But I will insist they should remain.

Now I’m tapping my pen against the notepad in front of me. Aiden had asked for pitches for my own book. Vera had, too, and she’s the one I actually need to impress.

Something from my conversation with Nora Stone over dinner stayed with me. She had said my story idea would make a good documentary series.

It was an unexpected vote of confidence. Maybe… maybe it will work. My idea. It’s the first time my work hasn’t centered on someone else’s life in years.

Fifteen minutes of fame.

The masses forget, but for the person who has experienced it, everything changes.

I scribble down a few notes. What happens when the camera goes away? Did they get any help with the sudden media attention? There are plenty of people who experienced momentary global notoriety that I could talk to. I’ve already compiled a short list.

I tap my pen against the paper. Do they keep getting recognized? Can they keep working their normal jobs?

The sound of an engine close by cuts through my thinking. I drop my pen and carefully rise. Shoving my feet into my slides, I circle the pool, heading toward the driveway.

Toward the voices I hear.

Aiden isn’t due home until late tonight. No cleaners are scheduled for today, either. Fuck. I’ve heard about these fancy houses getting robbed. And, I left my phone inside, charging.

I look around. There’s nothing, the place so painfully minimalistic. Aiden doesn’t just leave baseball bats lying around. No clutter. Just large lounge chairs and a grill that’s a centerpiece of an outdoor kitchen area finished in natural stone.

But on the patio table lies a large driftwood sculpture. It’s probably very expensive.

I grip it tight and hold it up like a club.

Voices get closer. I creep to the perimeter wall and slowly stick my head out. A man I don’t recognize walks up to the open car gate. He’s medium built, sandy-haired, and is wearing a white polo shirt.

But he had been talking to someone. He’s not alone.

I creep around the corner and take a careful step forward…

Aiden stands by a new silver car on the driveaway.

I jump back. “Shit!”

He looks at me. And then he chuckles. “Chaos? Were you going to use that as a weapon?”

“I thought someone was breaking in.”

“If someone is breaking in, you call me, and you go hide in your closet. You do not go out to meet them in nothing but a bikini, carrying a piece of wood.”

I lower the driftwood sculpture. “I didn’t think you’d be home.”

Aiden walks up the path from the garage. He pulls off his sunglasses, and his eyes rake over me. “You look…”

He’s got that gaze. The one he had in the kitchen the other night, like I’m everything he’s ever wanted. I like it more than I should. “It’s just a bikini.”

“There’s no ‘just’ about you.”

He looks good. Linen shirt, dark pants. His hair is more mussed than usual, and there’s a look in his eyes that makes my stomach tighten.

“You’re a charmer. I thought you needed to be at the office today.”

“I do. Just took a lunch break.” He reaches into his pocket. “Catch.”

He tosses something that dangles my way. I react just in time to catch it.

Car keys.

“What’s this?”

“I don’t think you should drive your little Honda anymore.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not safe. I’ve heard how it sounds when you try to get up the hill here. Drive this one instead.”

“It’s sturdy.”

“It’s not safe.”

“It’s perfectly safe. It doesn’t become less safe just because you repeat those words.” I frown and look behind him to see a silver Audi Q3 that’s parked right next to his massive Jeep. “This is a you thing. Are you embarrassed that people can see my car parked here next to your thirty-million-dollar house?”

“This house didn’t cost thirty million.”

“Fine. Thirty-five.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m not ashamed of your car. That’s ridiculous, Chaos.”

“Did you buy that?” I point to the Audi.

“It’s a lease,” he says. “Of sorts.”

I look down at the keys in my hand. So innocent-looking—a plastic fob with a big button on it. “You didn’t discuss this with me.”

“Did I need to?”

“I happen to like my car,” I say. It’s a lie. That car has been dying a slow death for months, but I keep telling myself to hold off for another ghostwriting paycheck before going to buy a new one. My Honda still works, and that’s all that matters.

Aiden crosses his arms over his chest. “What do you like about it?”

“Lots of things.”

“Name one.”

“I don’t need to justify it to you. You shouldn’t have gotten me a car.” The creeping panic comes crawling, squeezing tightly around my chest. “This doesn’t have anything to do with… Aiden, it better not.”

“With what?” But I can see in his narrowed eyes that he knows exactly what I mean.

“With us. With the thing that we agreed would not be emotional and would not interfere with our work.”

“I know what we agreed to. This car doesn’t violate either of those rules.”

I mirror his stance, crossing my arms under my chest. His eyes dip down and linger a second too long. Right. I’m in a bikini, and the triangles of my top leave little to the imagination. Which was fine because I was just tanning in the comfort of his backyard and revising chapters.

“Would you do this for another of your employees?”

He forces his eyes up. “Yes. I care about the people I work closely with and their safety.”

“What car does Elena drive, your PA?”

“A Toyota Prius.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “And Eric?”

“He drives a Honda Civic. A much newer model than yours.”

I roll my eyes at him. “You only know that because both of them regularly come here and park just outside of your front door.”

“So what? I still know it.”

“You’re not giving them new cars, though.”

“No, because they drive safe cars. You don’t.”

I shake my head, remembering too late that I have sunglasses pushed up on my head. I catch them right before they fall. “You’re just assuming. You don’t know. God, Aiden, what am I supposed to do with my car?”

He hesitates for a moment, and in that pause, I know. He wants to say get rid of it . Is that truly a lease out there? But then he shrugs. “Let me take it in to get it serviced, and then we’ll park it in my garage.”

“My dad serviced it six months ago.”

“Old cars need regular love.”

“Just admit it. You’re doing this because you…” I can’t say the words, and all of a sudden, they feel silly. Words not meant to be spoken out loud, under the blazing sunlight, in the open air.

“Because of what, Charlotte?” He takes a step forward, and then another. “I remember the rules. This car is yours to use while you’re living in LA. It has great AC. It handles the hills here like a champ. Don’t be dumb, and just accept it.”

“I am not dumb.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course you’re not. You’re the smartest person I know, sometimes terrifyingly so. But you’re being stubborn about this.”

I push past him and walk on bare feet over the hot stones to the driveaway. The sun is warm on my skin, and I look down to make sure my bikini bottoms are still in place. Ties tied at my sides.

Aiden follows me. “Were you by the pool?”

“Yes.” Anger still pulses inside me. I’m not dumb. I’ve worked very hard not to be, and he doesn’t get to lob that at me just because I don’t roll over and accept it when he makes decisions without my input.

He mentioned the rules. They’re the one thing I’ve been clinging to, even when he calls me sugar . No emotions. No complications.

But here he gets me a car?

The shiny silver Audi Q3 looks enormous next to my old, dull-red Honda. I hate that it looks nice. That I can only imagine how smooth it must be to drive.

Something twists in my chest. I don’t know how I should feel or handle this.

“Just drive it,” he mutters beside me. “For me. It will make me feel better.”

“Are you saying I’ll be doing you a favor?”

“Yes, for god’s sake, Chaos. Yes.”

I look at him out of the corner of my eye. “Remember the deal we made in the coat room at the fundraising gala? Anything I ask of you, you get to ask of me. That goes both ways.”

His jaw tenses. “What are you saying?”

“If you ask me to drive this car, I’ll ask you to drive mine.”

Aiden is silent for a few long moments. Up here in the hills, in this rich neighborhood with only the sun as an onlooker, Los Angeles is quiet. I didn’t know a major city could be this quiet.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?”

He runs a hand along his jaw. “Fuck, you’re making this hard.”

“I don’t think you’d like me if I made things easy,” I say. The words feel painfully accurate. I’ve spent years building myself into a person who can stand up for herself. Who doublechecks every contract, who’s whip-smart, always reading between the lines.

“Drive your car,” he repeats. His voice is sour. “No, I can’t do that, Chaos.”

“Would it ruin your image?”

“Yes,” he mutters. “Fuck, is that what you want to hear?”

“I want you to be honest. That’s not a lease, is it?”

He glares at me. I glare right back at him. The word dumb echoes around in my head.

“No, it’s not a lease,” he says. “They’re a drain of money.”

“And buying a new car isn’t?”

Aiden blows out a breath. “Money isn’t an issue.”

“You just said you wouldn’t get a lease because it’s a drain, so clearly, you do care about money.”

“God, you’re too clever by half, sometimes.” He runs a hand over his face. “I thought this would make you happy.”

“Yeah. Has it been a success for you with your women in the past?” That’s not hard to imagine.

He looks at me with cautious eyes. “I don’t know how that is relevant, since per rule number one, I’m doing this for my business associate. Not my woman.”

I hate my own logic when it traps me like a lasso. I turn to stare at the car instead. Search my mind for anything to say, anything at all, when in truth, I do want to drive it.

“Why this color?”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “You wear a lot of silver jewelry,” he says. “I noticed.”

I look at him out of the corner of my eye.

He side-eyes me right back.

Our silent, deadly staring match is interrupted by the ringing of his phone.

I walk toward the car and look through the driver-side window while he answers the call. His voice is low, but I hear Eric’s name.

The seats are gray leather. They look comfortable, and there’s not a single scratch on the upholstery. Brand new. He’d bought me a brand new car to use in the upcoming weeks.

“…how can that be? Did Francis not— No. I’ll be there right away.”

Aiden gives me another look after he hangs up. “At least take it for a test drive,” he tells me, striding to his Jeep. “I’ll see you later.”

I watch him open the gate and back out of the driveway. And only when he’s gone do I open the door. It still has that new car smell. I slide into the seat and run my hands over the smooth leather of the steering wheel.

Maybe I should take it for a spin.