Chapter 2 #2
By the time the server walks away, I’m seething.
I’m also slightly hungry now that I’ve heard them discussing the side dishes—particularly the warm pita and hummus—but I’ve missed my chance.
And I also can’t order anything now on principle.
My stomach grumbles, and I don’t appreciate it outing me like that.
Luke sits back in his seat and places his hands on his lap.
“So, how have you been, Archie?” he asks like we’re a couple of old pals, just grabbing a bite.
I eye him, my lips turned downward. “I’m doing fine,” I tell him. “Should we at least start the meeting while we wait for your food?”
“I’m doing great, thanks for asking,” he says.
“I didn’t.” I give him a smirk.
“I know,” he says. “How’s Gigi?”
This catches me off guard. He remembers my grandma?
I guess I can’t blame him. Gigi is hard to forget.
She’s a tiny force to be reckoned with. Plus, she was so flirty with him when they met at that company picnic where she was my plus-one.
She later told me he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen and that I should “try to get some of that.” I believe those were her exact words.
I told her in no uncertain terms that I would never date a coworker. Not with the curse. Imagine dating someone, kissing them, being rejected, and having to see them day in and day out? No, thank you.
Plus, Luke Wilder is not someone I’d be interested in dating. Ever.
“She’s fine,” I say. “Can . . . we get to work?”
He regards me for a beat. “Why all the animosity?”
I drop my chin, pressing my lips together. Is he being purposefully obtuse? “You know why,” I say.
“Come on, Arch. That was two years ago.”
“Yes, and the statute of limitations for fraud is three, so you’ve got another year of watching your back.”
He swipes a hand down his face. “I told you I was sorry.”
I angle my head to the side, scrunching my face. “I don’t recall you ever apologizing.”
He pauses, staring again, like he’s not sure if I’m being serious. “I did in the voicemail I left you. I explained everything.”
“Well, that’s too bad, because I didn’t listen to it.”
Luke’s eyes widen slightly before he looks away, fingers moving to his chin. It’s his contemplative pose. He’s done it forever. Or, at least, for as long as I’ve known him.
He drops his hand, and his gaze slowly turns back to me, his mouth pulling into a grin. “I’m actually relieved to hear that.”
“Why?” I ask, suddenly curious.
I was so mad when Simone told me Luke took a job with Pulse—and Ella Abbott—that I didn’t even listen to the voicemail he left.
What could he have said to fix that?
I’ve made it my job to avoid him ever since, and it hasn’t been easy since we work in the same circles and his building is only a few city blocks away from mine.
I mostly see him at industry events or parties that we both happen to be at.
I’ve nearly run into him at Common Ground, the coffee shop down the street, a couple of times.
But I left as soon as I saw his stupid smug face.
“Why?” I ask again when his smirk turns into a smile.
“Oh”—he waves a hand—“I just said some things I probably shouldn’t have.”
Well, now I’m even more curious. “What did you say?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
What does he mean by things he shouldn’t have said? What could that possibly be, in the context of an apology? Groveling? Crying? Begging? None of that sounds like Luke, but now I feel like I have to know.
“Luke,” I say, his name coming out as if my patience is wearing thin. Because it is.
He shrugs. “You just missed out on my heartfelt apology.”
I eye him, wondering if he’s telling me the truth.
“Then feel free to apologize now,” I say.
“Nah.” He purses his lips. “We’re past that.”
The need to slap him is back in full force. Actually, I’m not sure the feeling ever dissipated.
This is just like Luke. He hasn’t changed at all in the past two years. I don’t know what’s more annoying: the fact that he hasn’t changed, or that he can still get under my skin.
I look up at the ceiling briefly, long enough to realize this is futile and I need to get on with this meeting. This little jaunt down memory lane is a waste of time.
I pull my phone out of my purse and open up my notes app.
“Right, so everything you’ll need—the press contact list, approved talking points River has been using, all statements that have already gone out, and the studio contact information—has been sent over to you.”
“Yeah,” he says, giving me a quick, resigned nod.
I look back down at my phone, using my thumb to scroll through the notes Tessa and I worked on after going through River’s file.
Surprisingly, I learned some things about him.
I knew he was a nepo baby—famous since birth with two A-list parents—but unlike most actors born with a silver spoon in their mouths, he’d actually paid his dues, working in theater first before landing bigger roles that led him to the part of Kaelric.
“River has two outstanding interview requests you’ll need to answer for,” I start. “He’s got a commitment to be at a charity event for the studio, and then a panel at FableCon in August for the show, and the season-four press junket in September.”
I look up to see Luke nodding. He’s not writing anything down, which is annoying, but also not my problem.
I scroll farther down in my notes, my eyes quickly scanning over the words.
“As for the breakup, the studio wants this handled quietly. No drama, nothing to threaten the show. I’d also flag that both clients have morality clauses. Just so we’re both clear on what’s at stake.”
Morality clauses make all this tricky. If either Bailey or River become a liability, the studio has grounds to reduce pay or recast. Which is why Simone couldn’t postpone this meeting. We need to get ahead of this story before it takes off on its own.
“We’re aware,” Luke says.
“Great,” I say, giving him a tight smile. “Then all we need to do is come up with a joint statement. Public sentiment is neutral right now, as far as Brandwatch is showing, and we need to keep it that way.”
At least it was when I checked the tracking software this morning.
“Right,” Luke says. “My client’s only request is that it doesn’t sound like damage control. It needs to feel mutual and genuine.”
“That’s . . . also how my client wants this to be handled.”
I actually have no idea how Bailey wants this to be dealt with, since I’m not her point of contact at the firm—Simone is. But considering the studio doesn’t want drama, I’m going to have to make assumptions here.
“Good,” Luke says. “Draft something, and I’ll let you know if it works.”
I squint at him. “How about you draft something, and I’ll let you know if it works.”
“Sure,” he says.
Hold on a second. That was too easy. Is this some sort of game? A power play? Should I take it back and tell him we’ll draft it? Yes. That way, we have control over the narrative. But wait . . . what if he knew I’d be suspicious and he’s using reverse psychology to get out of doing it?
Crap. What would Simone do?
I internally cringe. Simone would have shown up here, her hair pulled into the tight bun she always wears, her clothing perfectly tailored, with a draft already written. Come on, Claire. This was a rookie mistake.
“Actually, we’ll handle it,” I say. It’s what Simone would want. And even though it’s probably letting Luke win, Simone’s reputation is my top priority.
“Okay, fine,” Luke quickly agrees.
I hate him.
“Great, well,” I say, scooting forward in my seat, ready to leave. “I guess since we’re done, you can enjoy your lunch without me.”
He nods. “Sure you don’t want to stay?”
“Yes,” I say definitively.
I stand up from my chair, grabbing my purse and tucking my phone back inside, just as the waiter arrives with Luke’s food. My stomach gurgles again. I’ll have to hit a drive-through on the way back to the office.
“Good to see you, Archie,” Luke says.
Do I return the sentiment? Even if it wasn’t all that great to see him?
“You too,” I say, before turning on my heel and walking toward the exit.
Thank goodness Simone will be back soon. Then she can deal with Luke Wilder.