Chapter 21 Owen
OWEN
I talked to Sam and Dylan when I was in the limo on the way here.
Sam still thinks Dylan is the coolest guy he knows, and Dylan no longer cares if he’s nominated for a Tony this year—he already thinks he’s won World’s Best Uncle.
I am grateful to him for facilitating this night out for Frankie and me, but he will be insufferable for the rest of my life. Will it be worth it? Probably.
If Frankie ever shows up.
The rooftop bar that Nico and Alex chose for the wrap party is in a SoHo hotel, and as everyone keeps telling me, it’s not super crowded because everyone’s in the Hamptons right now.
Shooting the music video on location was fun.
But the best part of it, for me, was having someone to check in with throughout the day.
That someone may be a sarcastic little turd, but she’s a fucking delight to text with.
Frankie may not be my girlfriend, but no woman has ever become such a significant part of my life so quickly.
I can’t stop thinking about her, and I don’t want to.
She said she was leaving the restaurant she was at with her friends in Brooklyn about forty-five minutes ago, and I keep waiting for her to text me to say she’s here.
I should go down and wait for her on the sidewalk.
Maybe we should just go straight back to my hotel room.
Fuck this date-night shit. My trouser monkey is ready to dance.
I’m on a sofa under a shade sail and patio lights—the meat in a Nico Todd–Alex Vega sandwich.
I can feel Nico staring at me. If I were a chick, being stared at this intently by a hot musician would set my panties on fire, but I just find it annoying.
He slaps my leg with the back of his hand.
“Why do you look so anxious, man? Vega, we need to get this guy laid.”
Alex leans forward so he can see Nico. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
“This is a job for the Lazy Wingmen.”
“Do not Lazy Wingman me.” These smug married assholes have been doing their Lazy Wingman routine with me ever since the divorce, and it’s never funny. Ever.
“Lazy Wingman it is.” Vega puts his arm around my shoulder, then mutters in the general direction of a small group of women about ten feet from us.
They’re looking the other way and definitely can’t hear him over the music.
“Hey. Check out this dude. He’s a man. With a penis.
He’s got a pair of really manly, well-groomed eyebrows.
He also has a job. What do you think? You want some of that? ”
“I got this, I got this.” Nico raises his chin at a woman who’s deep in conversation with a guy at a table across from us.
“Yo, baby, what’s up? I see you lookin’ at my friend over here.
Oh, you’re looking at me? I get it. But I’m taken.
This guy, though. He’s here. He’s alive.
He’ll probably buy you a drink or something. You should give him a chance.”
These guys are really cracking each other up.
“Okay.” I polish off my drink. “That was hilarious.”
Alex looks down at his phone while waving at no one in particular.
“Hang on, ladies. Anyone want a piece of this guy over here? He comes with a lot of unisex hair products. He smells like a leather jacket that got left out on a tropical beach and then some exotic jungle animal peed on it. He’s not the worst guy here, so y’know. You should talk to him or whatever.”
“I got it, I got it.” Nico addresses a very drunk girl who is holding on to one of her girlfriends for support and has her eyes closed. “Hey. You look like you’re having trouble standing up. This guy right here has a hotel room somewhere. Whaddya say?”
“Are you done?”
“Take your pick, dude. We got ’em lined up for you.” Alex pats me on the knee.
“Thanks, but I’m actually not looking.”
Nico studies me skeptically. “Oh yeah? Because you seem to be looking for someone.”
“So there’s someone in particular you need us to wingman for you?” Alex asks.
“There is absolutely no one I need you to wingman for me. You’re a great director and a terrible friend.”
“I’m fine with that.”
“Hey, what about me?” Nico whines. He even makes whining sound sexy.
“You are a very talented singer-songwriter slash musician and I sort of want to lick your face, but you are also a shitty friend.”
“I would let you lick my face though. Who’s the someone in particular?”
I’m already grinning just thinking about her, and it’s so lame. “Officially, there is no one in particular. Unofficially, there’s a particular someone who’s meeting me here. Someone from LA who’s been traveling with Sam and me.”
Nico frowns at me. “You mean because you’re paying her to?”
Alex scrubs his face and affects total agony. “Not the nanny. Please tell me you haven’t fallen for a hot nanny.”
Bunch of hypocrites. Nico fell for the woman he paid to go on tour with him as his photographer. Alex fell for his son’s teacher.
I shake my head, glancing over at the open glass doors from the interior of the bar to the terrace, and I don’t even care about defending myself to these guys anymore.
I don’t remember to breathe.
I don’t see or hear one other person in this city right now.
Because Frankie Hogan has arrived and she’s wearing a red dress.
I’m up off the sofa, weaving through the crowd between us, and I will live in this space and time where she spots me coming toward her and smiles.
She smiles before realizing she shouldn’t.
She smiles even when I can tell she’s trying not to.
I walk right up to her and put my hands on her face and kiss her.
She’s still smiling when I pull away, and I’m still touching her face.
“Hi. You look so pretty I want to punch something.”
She laughs, and the lighting’s too dim for me to tell if she’s blushing but I bet she is. She’s still smiling when she says, “Thank you. You look so handsome I want to throw you off this roof.”
“Thanks for wearing a dress for me.”
She clears her throat. “I wore the dress for New York.”
“You wore it for me.”
Eye-roll. “Yeah. But get over yourself.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re discovering how impossible it is to get over me.”
And there goes the smile.
Which means it’s true.
I put my arm around her waist, kissing her cheek. “I’m not getting over you either.” I start to lead her toward my friends.
“Owen, I don’t think we should—”
“I don’t think we should either, but we’re not going to think right now.”
She nods.
I lean in and say into her ear, “You’re not the nanny tonight, okay? You’re just the only woman I want to be with.”
I’m glad I have my arm around her because I feel her knees give out a little bit.
It’s the first of many times I plan to make her feel lightheaded this evening.
I introduce her to Nico and Alex, a few of the crew members who are around, but then I take her over to the edge of the terrace so she can see the view. I stand behind her, wrap my arms around her waist, and kiss the top of her head. “One day, all this will be yours.”
She barks out a laugh. “I’ll take it.”
“I mean it. You deserve it.”
She places her hands over mine. “Are you going to be nice to me all night?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know if I can handle it.”
“I don’t give a fuck. This is what you’re getting. You want something from the bar?”
“Um. No. I had wine with dinner. I don’t want to drink too much tonight.”
“So you can remember it?”
“Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not laughing at you, Frankie. I’m gonna give you a night you’ll want to remember.” I take her hand and guide her back toward the interior of the bar. “Come dance with me.”
She hesitates, like I knew she would.
Then she follows my lead, like I was hoping she would.