24. Noah
Chapter twenty-four
Noah
"That's not gonna fly, Roger," I say, exasperated. "Sachiko's six months pregnant, and she had to take the train to make it on time. How the hell are you going to say they're done for the day?"
I loosen my tie—it's already close to coming unknotted—as I listen to Roger's excuse for why Apex Casting Associates had me send my client in for a last-minute fit model call, only to send her home an hour later. If not for Sachiko's angry text from the cab ride home, I wouldn't have even known.
Fuckers.
Apex requested her specifically, and were delighted to learn that not only is she pregnant, she's showing.
Apparently, their new line, which is targeting everyone from professional athletes to the merely health-conscious, will include maternity options.
But from the sound of Roger's hemming and hawing, it won't include Sachiko.
Roger Harris is one of the shittier casting assistants I've had the displeasure of working with.
He frequently reschedules at the last minute, gives the wrong room number for the call so my clients are left scrambling, and brings in more talent than the casting director could possibly see in the allotted time.
I'm guessing he's someone's in-law or cousin because he keeps getting work.
He also keeps putting my clients through the wringer.
"Well, thanks a lot," I sneer, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I don't bother saying goodbye before I hang up. Not only will I be making a complaint about Roger's behavior with Apex, but my clients will no longer participate in any calls where he's involved. No one needs to go through that.
Just as I'm about to dial the Apex main office, someone walks up and grabs my nearly full coffee cup, chucking it in the trash can.
"Hey!" I start, before realizing that someone is Awa. A very angry Awa who looks like she wants to rip me a new one. What did I do now?
"You have a lot of balls setting me up for an ambush like that!" she snarls. A few of her twists have come out of her neat bun, and her eyes are blazing. I'm assuming the sight should not turn me on, but—
"What ambush?" I ask, racking my brain for how I messed up this time.
"Camila!" she shouts back. "I just got back from lunch with her—the lunch you suggested—only for her to blindside me talking about, I know you and Noah have history, blah blah blah."
Her impression sounds nothing like me, but that's not what bothers me. Why the fuck would Camila bring up Awa and I's history? As a lawyer, I assumed she would know anything I told her was in confidence. And what the fuck would that have to do with a networking lunch, anyway?
Now I understand how Henry felt when he found out I'd told our other brothers about his first heartbreak, Naomi. He didn't speak to me for weeks.
But that was different!, I grumble to myself.
I search my brain for what I even told Camila and come up empty. She knows me and Awa went to college together. I remember telling her that we were study partners…
Shit. I may have also mentioned that we were briefly more than "just friends". But I didn't kiss and tell! Not really. People hook up all the time in college, and it means nothing.
Camila doesn't know about the fight outside Ground Zero, or how I felt like a total asshole leaving Awa on "read".
And she damn sure doesn't know that I've been thinking about Awa an unhealthy amount since shooting began.
Wishing like hell I could go back and change things. No one knows that but me.
I hold out my hands in a placating gesture, which only seems to piss her off more. OK. So don't try to calm her down.
"I don't know what Camila said…or why she said it," I say, still baffled that this was discussed during what was supposed to be a working lunch, "but I didn't tell her anything. She doesn't know—"
"That you made me think we were friends? Hooked up with me and then pulled a vanishing act the morning after? Started avoiding me even though you said hooking up wouldn't change things?"
The hurt in her voice is clear and burns away the rest of my sentence.
My choice to step back made sense at the time, but hearing it shouted back at me now, seeing how much it obviously affected her…Guilt, fresh and acidic, churns in the pit of my stomach.
"Awa," I start, but stop when I notice two crew members eavesdropping from beside the craft services table. Great. Now everyone's going to know what happened before we finish shooting the next scene.
"Awa," I try again, my voice lower this time. "I'm sorry about what happened back then. I never meant to hurt you, but clearly I did."
"You didn't hurt me," she insists. She folds her arms defensively over her chest. "You did the same thing every guy does: lie to get in my pants and then bail at the first sign of commitment."
Ouch! I won't pretend that commitment and I are on speaking terms—my brothers and I had a pact to stay bachelors up until they started dropping like flies a couple years ago—but I'm not heartless.
The women always knew the deal from the beginning.
Or at least I thought they did. Judging by Awa's reaction, there must have been a miscommunication.
I'll admit our connection all those years ago was electric.
It would have to be for both of us to still be thinking about it.
And I remember falling asleep in each other's arms and feeling both right and scared as hell.
Shit. Did I lead her on? I said no strings, but if she had the same feelings I did, maybe she thought that meant we could pursue it.
That I would pursue it, despite what I said.
"I can tell you don't want my apology," I say, resigned. She snorts derisively, and my shoulders drop. She definitely doesn't want an apology.
"Right. Please understand that I would never set you up for an ambush. I will talk to Camila, but I really hope this doesn't impact our working relationship."
Her mocking laugh as she turns away doesn't bode well. Rather than chase after her, I open my phone.
Camila
Camila: Noah. I'm so sorry. I fucked up.
I shake my head.
Yes, you did, Camila. You fucked things up for the both of us.