Chapter 4 #2
GQ: Plus, all the women in class are very eager to help me maintain my form. ??
The happy fizz in my belly instantly goes flat, and I’m left with a sour stomach instead. If that isn’t a sign to put the
brakes on this, I don’t know what is. I have plenty of male friends. None of them inspire jealousy.
CC: Don’t strain something while you’re at it.
GQ: If I do, will you give me a rubdown?
Right there. That’s flirting. I put down the phone and pace away. Who am I kidding? We’ve been flirting from the start.
James walks in the door and drops his key in the dish. He immediately spots me wearing a groove in the floorboards. “Well,
someone has lost her happy face.”
“What did we agree on about reminding me to smile?” I warn, not stopping my pacing.
“To not to,” James says happily. “But then we both know I ignore most of your directives, oh mighty queen.”
The phone dings again. I eye it like a snake.
James unwinds the orange scarf wrapped around his neck. It clashes horribly with his hair and beard, but I suspect he likes
that. “All right,” he says. “Who is harassing you? Is it that diva Maria? Tell her the camera can perform certain illusions,
but it can’t wash the bitch out of her hair.”
I choke back a laugh. Maria is a model we worked with a while back. She had insisted that I’d shot her in unflattering angles.
Not true. She is gorgeous. But insecure. And a complete pain in my ass.
“Thankfully, I haven’t heard from her since I told her there was a tornado warning in effect and to look out for flying farmhouses.”
James snickers as he makes a cappuccino. “So then who is texting your knickers in a knot?”
“Finn.”
He almost stumbles, foam sloshing over the rim of the cup. “Finn? As in Finn ‘he’s an asshat and I totally hate him’ Mannus?”
“I don’t hate him. We just got off on the wrong foot. Finn is fine.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Not what I meant.”
A slow, evil smile spreads over his face. “And now it’s Finn, eh?”
“That is his name,” I deadpan.
“Mmm . . .” He hands me the cup and turns to make another cappuccino for himself. “Why are you in a snit over Finn? Is he harassing you?”
“No.” I grab the phone but don’t look at the screen, so I won’t be tempted to answer. “He’s flirting. I’m flirting. And I like it.” I flop my arm in exasperation.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone be put out by good flirting.” James sips his coffee and studies me with a frown. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”
The phone dings again.
GQ: Was that too much? Or has the possibility of massaging my fine ass made you faint?
A snort escapes me.
CC: Yes. You got me. The terror was too much.
GQ: It’s okay, Chester. A lot of women can’t handle this much hotness at once.
James’s voice turns droll. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that expression on your face.”
“What expression?” I wait for Finn’s reply.
“Besotted.”
“Besotted? Have you been reading historicals again?”
“Yes. And stop trying to burn a hole in my head with your eyes. There’s nothing wrong with liking this guy. You’ve had shit
luck with men. Finding one you’re excited about is a good thing. Why are you fighting this?”
Heat churns in my chest. “Because he isn’t interested in dating,” I grit out.
“Then take a ride on that hot body of his and enjoy yourself.”
The heat moves from my chest to the back of my neck. “He doesn’t want that from me, either.”
James gapes at me in confusion. Which doesn’t help my bruised and confused ego. “Not possible. I saw the way he looked at
you.”
“Oh?” Ignore the flutter. The flutter is a cheap attention whore. “And how’s that?”
“Like you were the Vince Lombardi Trophy covered in honey.”
“I don’t even know what that is.”
“Super Bowl, Chessie. Best you bone up on your football knowledge.”
Cute. “However he may or may not have looked at me, Finn made it clear he didn’t want to hook up. He said he just wants to, and
I quote, ‘know me.’”
“Huh.” James taps his fingers on the counter for an annoying few beats. “Well, maybe it’s best not to overthink things. You
like him, that’s clear. Just go with it.”
“Go with it.” How helpful.
“You never know what can happen.”
I’m rolling my eyes when someone knocks on the front door.
James snaps to attention. “Ah, speaking of that . . .” He fiddles with his polka-dot bow tie. “I’ve . . . er . . . met someone.”
“I presume this someone is at the door?” I ask, bemused. James has never really introduced me to anyone. Not in a formal way.
I’ve gone out on double dates with him, but those were casual, and I rarely ever saw his date again.
“Yes.” James flushes. “I was going to tell you, but got caught up in your ‘dare I do the quarterback’ drama.”
I shoot him a quelling look. “Are you going to get that? Or do you want me to?”
“No, no. I’ll get it.” He hustles over to the door as if he’s about to jump out of his skin.
Which means it’s serious. Suddenly, I feel as unsettled as James looks.
I quickly tap out a text to Finn because I don’t want to be rude to James’s guest.
CC: James is here. I have to go. Talk later?
Why did I feel the need to ask? He answers quickly.
GQ: Nxt Tuesday is my day off. You available for lunch? Lemme know when U get a chance.
I don’t answer. James is leading his new love into the loft, while giving me a soppy smile. He called me besotted? The man is practically floating along.
I had expected him to introduce me to a model, either male or female. Tall and stunning is James’s preference. But that’s
not the case here.
“This is Jamie,” James says, holding his arm around someone who appears to be a short, slender man with a halo of blond curls
and wearing heavy, black-framed glasses. “She’s my . . . person. Jamie, meet Chess, my bestie.”
“Chess.” Jamie leans in to offer me a hand, and from beneath a cute blue argyle sweater vest, I see the soft swell of breasts.
“I’ve heard so much about you.”
Since James has been closemouthed as shit, I can’t say the same. So I simply shake her hand, but I lose hold on my smile.
“James and Jamie, eh?”
James actually flushes. “I know. It’s awful, isn’t it? We’ll be one of those couples who dresses alike and finishes each other’s
sentences.” He looks completely happy about that prospect.
“You’re halfway there already,” I point out, eyeing James’s brown argyle sweater vest.
Jamie laughs. “We didn’t even plan it.”
“I’m feeling very Bert and Ernie right now,” James says, running a hand down his chest.
Jamie laughs again. “If we want to be really obnoxious, we could get a dog and name it Jimmy.” Her nose wrinkles. “Never mind.
I forgot. I once dated a girl who had a dog named Jim.”
“I always wanted to meet a boy named Sue,” James muses.
Jamie smiles up at him. “We could name the dog Sue.”
“Okay,” I cut in, “you guys are annoying.”
They both grin wide.
“I brought beignets.” Jamie holds up a big bag from Cafe du Monde, the bottom of it spotted with grease stains. I swear my
mouth waters. “James says they’re your favorite.”
Definitely serious if kissing up to the best friend is involved. God. I’m jealous. I’m actually jealous.
Snap out of it, you shrew!
The woman is wearing a sweater vest and a blue bow tie, for Pete’s sake. How can I not find this endearing?
“I love them. Thanks.” I take the bag from her and get us some plates. “Let’s eat on the balcony.”
On the balcony, I listen to James and Jamie finish each other’s sentences as they tell me how they met at a jazz club. I laugh
along when they tease each other about how they fought over whether Duke Ellington or Ella Fitzgerald was better—neither,
by the way; they’re two sides of the same coin. I stuff two beignets down my throat to keep from butting in with my own James
stories. Because Jamie doesn’t need to hear that right now.
They’re so cute together, it makes my jaw ache and my heart contract. James is in love. I never thought I’d see the day.
He brushes a nonexistent crumb off Jamie’s chin, as she states that she should get going. “I know you have a shoot to do.”
“You can stay and watch,” James offers, his voice so gentle, I almost don’t recognize it.
“Oh, no,” Jamie says with a laugh. “I don’t think I can watch you oil up a bunch of big bruisers and not get jealous. Besides,
there’s an art gallery around the corner from my place that I’ve been wanting to visit.”
“Do you live in the Quarter?” I ask her.
“I live in New York,” Jamie says, sharing a quick look with James. “I’m just here for a week.”
A week? They fell for each other in less than a week?
James picks at a seam in his trousers. “She’s going back next Monday.”
“I keep telling him he should come with me to get a taste of New York life,” Jamie teases faintly.
“And I keep telling you I have to work,” James shoots back with false playfulness.
There’s pain in his voice, and he can’t hide it.
An awkward silence descends. My mouth is filled with puffed dough, a coating of powdered sugar turning to paste against my
tongue. James is my best friend. But I am also his boss. At times, the gulf between friend and boss feels as vast as the distance
from here to New York.
I swallow down my bite with difficulty. “We only have one more shoot for the calendar after today. I can do the smaller jobs
on my own. You should go visit. Take some time for yourself.”
James’s pale blue eyes meet mine, and it feels like a hug. I smile back weakly. Was he worried I’d say no? I’d never deny
him his happiness.
But while James sees Jamie off, I stare out over the balcony rail, watching cars pass by and, in the distance, the Mississippi
rolls along like a wide, brown snake against the land. I feel empty.
Pulling my phone from my jeans pocket, I text Finn. I’m good for Tuesday.
He answers a few seconds later, as if he’s been waiting.
GQ: It’s a non-date. ??
I still don’t know what I want from him, but I can’t deny that the sight of that silly winky emoji makes me feel a little
warmer inside.