9. Lucas
9
LUCAS
The town hall, an early twentieth-century brick building with white columns out front, is overflowing with hostile townspeople and business owners waiting to hear about how I’m going to destroy their lives.
There are three patrol cars out front, which probably comprises the entire Green Acres fleet. Officer Hernandez is there, with the police chief and several other officers, to keep the peace. They look solemn-faced as they corral people up the steps and into the building.
This is honestly beyond weird. What am I going to say to everybody? I don’t even know what Jasper Whitfield has planned for the downtown, other than ripping it up and installing fancy new buildings for no logical reason.
“Well, that’s quite the welcoming committee,” Brooke murmurs.
Serena is standing on the front steps, chatting animatedly with a young couple who have paused on the sidewalk. The woman is pushing a stroller, and her floral-print red cotton dress reveals a swelling baby bump. Her husband’s muscular arm is flung around her shoulder, and they smile at each other with such adoration that it makes my heart swell.
Serena spots us and waves, says something to the couple, and walks over to us.
“It’s fascinating being here,” she says to Brooke. “So many of my characters are here. That couple I was just talking to? That was a friends-to-lovers book about a girl who fled to this small town, running from an abusive ex, and ended up staying with the garage mechanic who took her in.”
I grimace. “I don’t suppose my plans are going to affect their garage?”
“Oh, yes, you’re going to pave right over the garage that his family has owned since 1930,” she says cheerfully. “What? It’s not really going to happen; we’ll resolve things by the end of the story.”
I heave a deep breath and give Brooke a martyred look. “I cannot believe you read these books,” I say accusingly, as if this is all her fault.
“Wait a minute!” Brooke gasps dramatically. “That’s Maxwell and Jessica from Small Town Sweetheart? And they have a baby? I can’t believe I’m seeing them in real life. Just think—you did that.”
“I wonder if I did,” Serena says thoughtfully. “I have always believed that my characters were kind of... real. That they existed in an alternate universe, that I tuned into their wavelengths, and I was just chronicling their stories. Don’t give me that look,” she adds to me.
I give her a look of disgust. “That’s way too woo-woo.”
“And yet, here we are,” she says dryly.
I shake my head unhappily. “And yet, here we are. Thanks for that.”
Serena replies with a delicate little snort. “Oh, boo hoo. You’re in an adorable small town getting to know the love of your life, while being forced to take a vacation from your hectic schedule for at most a few weeks.”
“The love of his life?” Brooke looks at her skeptically.
“As far as the book knows,” Serena shrugs.
“A few weeks?” I groan. My father will lose his mind. My business is going to go up in flames and I have no idea how I’ll explain our disappearance.
“You can’t hurry love.” Serena rolls her eyes. “Believe me, if I thought we could get away with making this a novella, I’d advise you to do so, but I never write those, and this is my fictional universe we’re stuck in, so we need to follow the kind of storyline that I’d write.”
“She’s right. And I hate it too. It’s killing me to think of what my mother must be going through, but all we can do is focus on the fact that we will get home, and we’ll make it up to them,” Brooke sighs.
Theodore, the owner of Velma’s, walks by and shoots me a look that’s pure poison. His lip curls back in contempt.
“I’m in an adorable small town where everyone looks like they’re measuring me to see how big to make my casket. Other than that, it’s all good,” I say, ignoring the part about getting to know the love of my life.
Serena doesn’t know the Sheffield men, or what a favor I’m doing for Brooke by keeping our relationship strictly professional.
“Hello again, Mr. Vickers,” Brooke waves at an older man who’s walking into the building with Ruby and Edna from the diner.
“Hello, Susie. Drop dead, Jasper.” Mr. Vickers sticks his nose in the air and stalks off.
I let out a sigh of exasperation. “I don’t even have a clue what Jasper Whitfield is actually planning to do to the downtown. We’ll go into the meeting, and I’ll just say that I’ve decided not to do anything to Main Street. Meeting adjourned, everyone goes home happy,” I say to Serena.
Serena is shaking her head even before I finish speaking. “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”
“Right,” I say. “Because nothing in this universe ever is.”
“The thing is,” Brooke says, “you and I have to clash for a while more or there’s no story. You can’t turn into Mr. Nice Guy yet.”
“All these times you told me to stop being such an overbearing ass. I finally try to turn over a new leaf, and it’s not good enough,” I grumble.
“Save Mr. Nice Guy for when we get back to reality. Or Manhattan. Or whatever. Have I mentioned that my legs hurt?’
I shoot her an irritable look. “No, Brooke. I’m sorry, I should have asked. How are your legs?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Just peachy. Never better.”
We head into the building, where a lot of people are milling around in a wide hallway. On the walls are pictures of the town over the last century, as well as various maps and brochures and a corkboard wall full of business cards. At the end of the hall, double doors open into a large meeting room.
“Mr. Whitfield! Mr. Whitfield! There you are,” A slender, ferret-faced man in a navy suit hurries up to us. He’s got slicked-down brown hair with a sharp side part, making him look like he just stepped out of a vintage movie, and he’s carrying a briefcase. Under one arm is tucked a cardboard tube, which are probably our architectural renderings.
A woman in her fifties, whose jet-black hair has a dramatic white stripe, is striding confidently beside him. She’s wearing a two-piece power suit with a crimson jacket and skirt and black heels, accessorized with a string of pearls. She’s toting a couple of large shopping bags, and a luscious smell of fresh muffins wafts from them .
The man gives me an oily smile. Brooke visibly tenses up. She’s got excellent people-radar, and I’m right there with her.
“I’m sorry, you are?” I narrow my eyes at him.
He ignores my question. “We just got settled into the house you rented for us. Very nice, thanks, perfect location! Only five blocks off Main Street. And we’ve already set up our offices.”
Aha. Another piece of the plot puzzle slides into place. In this universe I have a minion, and he’s got the stupid plans for this stupid idea of Jasper Whitfield’s.
“Well, well.” Mr. Vickers glances our way, his lip wrinkling in contempt. “If it isn’t Dorian Lawrence, the COO of Whitfield Industries. And your assistant Carmel.”
“How does he even know that?” I whisper to Brooke. I guess this fictional universe is filling in information when we need it.
“Your assistant?” She glares at me like a wife who just caught her husband dick-deep in his secretary. Who knew Brooke had a jealous streak?
“I did not hire her, she is not my assistant, and you know that,” I say in exasperation. “You’re the only assistant for me. That’s why I refuse to let you quit. Happy?”
“Do I look happy?”
“I don’t know. What does happy look like on you?”
“Figures he has no idea,” Serena says to Brooke.
“What’s in the bags?” I ask Carmel. “It smells like muffins.”
“Oh, yes, I always find muffins soften the mood. I’m going to hand them out at the meeting. We need to win over the people of Green Acres, and baked goods go a long way,” Carmel says to me. She smiles politely at Brooke. “Who’s your lovely friend?”
“I’m his assistant.” Brooke shoots me a look that dares me to say otherwise. This, coming from the woman who was ready to run off and abandon me and my company just... was it yesterday? I’m losing track of time.
“Oh?” Carmel gives me a look of confusion.
I heave a sigh. Sure, I’ll play along—for the moment. “She and I are old friends from high school who are getting reacquainted. I’m staying with her on Mockingbird Lane. And, uh, she’s my assistant here in town. She’s helping me get to know the townspeople.”
Homicidal Henry steps out from the crowd, his wife at his side. “No, you’re not his assistant. Your family owned the theater and you’re supposed to be saving it, not canoodling with the man who is destroying our town.”
“Oh yeah? Well, you’re nothing but a convenient plot device,” Brooke says in annoyance.
“First she calls me dumpy, then she calls me a device,” Henry says to his wife. “Big city really changed her.” He and his wife stomp off.
“And I am not canoodling! And maybe I actually have a reason for spending time with Mr. Whitfield. A secret plan that will save the entire downtown!” she shouts after him.
What? Where did that come from? What plan?
Henry stops, turns, and flashes her a startled glance. Everyone within earshot looks at her with interest.
“What’s your plan?” Ruby from the diner demands. Today she’s wearing a green-and-yellow floral polyester muumuu, accessorized with a rope of bright yellow fake pearls and yellow crocs.
“Well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be top secret, would it?” Brooke smiles at her mysteriously.
“Well, that’s true,” Ruby says doubtfully. “What do you think, Edna?”
“I don’t know.” Edna looks at Brooke skeptically. She’s the more toned down of the two, wearing a hot-pink jogging suit and matching sneakers. “Could be something. Could just be some crackpot idea she brought back with her from Hollywood.”
The two of them shuffle off, casting suspicious looks at Brooke .
“Interesting. What is your plan?” Serena asks. “I can help refine it and give you pointers.”
Brooke smiles. “Again. Keeping it secret.”
“Ugh.” Serena heaves a sigh. “I seriously hate it when my characters develop their own ideas and run off with my narrative. Just stay within the basic plot requirements, okay? Please?”
I take Brooke by the arm and lead her away from the crowd.
“Do you actually have a plan?” I demand in a low, urgent voice.
Brooke smirks at me. “Yes, I actually do. And I’m keeping it to myself for now. Because, reasons.”
“Come on, this affects me too.”
“Lucas, both of us want to get out of here. Please trust me that I know how to work my way through a romance novel.”
Dorian steps forward.
“Excuse me, Mr. Whitfield? A minute of your time? I just thought we should go over our plans really quickly.”
A sudden thought strikes me. “You said you and Carmel just got here. How?”
“Give it up,” Brooke murmurs.
“We rented a car and drove from the airport.” He gives me a puzzled look. "Why?”
My heart leaps in hope. “So you have a working car?”
Dorian makes a face. “Well, we did. It broke down this afternoon. We took it to the shop, and they think it’s going to be at least a week or two before the necessary parts come in. It’s fine; the town is small enough that we can walk everywhere.”
Unbelievable.
I stifle the urge to punch something or someone. “Can you call and get another one delivered? Money is no object.”
Brooke sighs heavily. She wants me to just give up and accept the craziness and spend God knows how long following Serena’s rules.
Dorian just gives me a puzzled look. “Why would you need a car? We need to stay here until all of the plans are finalized and the permits are granted.”
“Yes, why would we leave?” Carmel’s brow wrinkles in confusion. Brooke narrows her eyes at Carmel, shooting rays of jealous fury at her.
“Listen. We can all just go home tonight. Or first thing tomorrow. I am ordering you, as your boss, to get us a car. I’m cancelling all of this. We’re not doing it. I’ve decided it’s not a good business move,” I say desperately. “Get me a car or you’re fired.”
Dorian’s jaw drops in shock. “What? But the investors! We already have investors lined up and you said—oh, I get it, you’re joking.” He laughs heartily. “Such a wonderful sense of humor, sir. Oh, the meeting’s about to start.” He turns and hurries away, leaving me fuming.
“You’re fired,” I yell at his retreating back.
“Love it!” Dorian calls out merrily. “Such a wit, sir!”
Minutes later, Dorian, Carmel and I are standing in front of a room full of furious business owners and Green Acres residents.
Brooke, Serena, and Brenda sit in the front row.
Dorian takes out the renderings and displays our plans for the high-end condos.
I desperately want to shout out that I am not going to go through with this and everyone can go home and go on with their lives.
I open my mouth to say so, but I see both Serena and Brooke shaking their heads at me.
Unfortunately, I think they’re right. I think we’re just going to have to play this through. So instead, I have to stand there, melting under the glare of an enraged mob of people who actually have good reason to hate the person they think I am, and let Dorian outline our stupid plans. I barely even pay attention to what he says we’re doing. None of it’s going to happen anyway, if Serena is right.
Then I get to listen to one business owner after another stand up and furiously snarl about how long their businesses have been in the family and how this is going to destroy the character of downtown and they’re going to sue me and how they always knew I was no good, just like my drunk father.
After the meeting, the crowd is so riled up that the police have to escort me, Dorian, and Carmel out the back door. Brooke and Serena trail after us.
It’s dark out now and stars are twinkling overhead, a half moon glowing down on us. My legs are aching even worse now, and I can’t imagine what they’ll feel like tomorrow.
“Happy?” I demand of Serena as we stand in the grass behind the town hall building. “I played your little game. Did it get us anywhere?”
Serena gives me a sour look. “I’ll be happy when I’m back home. So the faster you romance this woman, the better off we’ll all be.” She gestures impatiently at Brooke. “Look at her. She’s awesome. You two need to act like you’re in love with each other. Oh, and you need to start planning out your grand gesture. Discuss.” With that, she spins on her heel and walks off.
“Well, she’s weird,” Officer Hernandez observes.
“You don’t know the half of it,” I mutter.
“City folks, am I right?” He grins.
“The weirdest,” Brooke pipes up.
“I’ll give you ride,” Officer Hernandez says. “Probably safer that way. I drove the SUV tonight; I can fit you all in.”
“I’ll call the investors and tell them about the meeting,” Dorian gushes. “They’ll be delighted.”
Delighted about what? Building condos in a town where nobody wants them ?
“You do that,” I sigh. Officer Hernandez leads us around the side and holds the door to his SUV open.
“Booo!” Homicidal Henry shouts.
“Go back where you came from!” the chamber of commerce guy joins in.
“Oh, God, please let that happen,” I mutter. Brooke shakes her head in exasperation. “Well, you’re coming with me, of course,” I say to her.
“Mr. Whitfield, what time do you want us to meet tomorrow?” Carmel asks, as she slides in next to Brooke.
I shrug listlessly. “I don’t know. I don’t care.”
She looks puzzled. “Well, we’re at the house you rented for us. You can come by any time. I’ll be there. They have a nice kitchen, I’m going to make some more muffins. Muffins always make things better.”
So she already said. I didn’t see them helping much at the meeting. “What’s the address again?” I sigh.
“202 Whitehall. Shall I update you on our other accounts?” she asks.
“Nope. I trust you one hundred percent have it handled.” Also, the company isn’t real. Or at least it’s not my company. She can do what she wants with it. She can run it into the ground if she so desires. “I’ll swing by at some point tomorrow. Maybe,” I shrug.
Hernandez pulls out of the parking lot and turns right. As we drive, people shout and shake their fists at us.
“So, Officer Hernandez, Brenda was at the meeting,” Brooke chirps. “Looking very nice in that flower print dress of hers, I thought. What did you think?”
“Subtle,” I laugh.
“I’ll show you subtle.” She elbows me.
I give her an amused glance. “Please. Carry on. Show me subtle.”
“Anyway, about Brenda,” she resumes .
“Yep. She was at the meeting.” Officer Hernandez clears his throat. “Why? Did she say anything about me? Not that it matters.” He hesitates. “But did she?”
Brooke glances at me, then leans forward. “She likes you.”
“Oh. Well, I like her too. I mean, she’s my best friend’s kid sister, so... oh, here we are.” He stops the car in front of our house. “See you guys later.”
“Uh . . . about Brenda . . . I mean . . . okay,” Brooke says.
“I’ll drop off your employees at their house too. Probably not great for them to be walking through town right now, with everyone so riled up. Stay out of trouble, now.” Officer Hernandez says.
We climb out of the car.
Brooke stares after the police car as he drives away, looking disappointed.
“I thought he’d be more excited that she likes him. This is the love of his life.”
I shrug. “Okay, for the sake of argument... you know how Serena said it wouldn’t work to just tell everyone that I changed my mind about tearing down the downtown area, because the story has to develop at a natural pace?”
“Yes?”
“Well, it’s probably the same with Officer Hernandez and Brenda. You can’t make them fall for each other just by telling them each that the other one likes them. It’s going to take a little more time. But you planted the seed. You got the ball rolling. And other metaphors.”
“Well, look at you, understanding plot development.”
I sigh. “What choice do I have, if I want to escape?”
We painfully climb the front steps to the house. My muscles throb with each step I take.
I am really feeling that bike ride. I can’t wait to fall into a nice, soft bed... no, that’s not an option. Because the stupid ceiling fell in .
As we walk into the living room, I give the couch a look of disgust.
“Damn it,” I mutter.
Brooke heaves a sigh.
“Since you are hurting, you may sleep in the bed with me tonight. One night only.”
So Brooke did take pity on me. I’m never, ever going to give Serena the satisfaction of admitting that she was right. Probably just a lucky guess on Serena’s part.
Minutes later, I’ve stripped down to my boxer shorts and I’m lying next to the woman I’ve fantasized about for two years straight, and I’m so exhausted I don’t even have the energy to summon up a single dirty thought about her.