Chapter 20
“The New Yorker, for Christ’s sake.” David’s voice drilled down into my ear through my cell.
Viv gave me a pitiful look as she drove me to The Crystal for a showing.
“David, trust me, it’s nothing to worry about. All publicity is good publicity,” I repeated. This type of publicity would be a fucking nightmare, but you’d need to skin me alive before I admitted it.
“Bullshit,” he barked. “They’ve written that we’re overpriced. Have these idiots even read the specs on what we’ve put in? I’m telling?—”
Time to take charge. “David, I will get to the bottom of it. The reason you hired me is because I know what I’m doing. So let me do it.”
My tone blanketed the flames of his anger. “Fine, but I better not see that kind of thing in the press again.”
“You won’t. If anything, it’s upped interest. We’ve got two offers in for the two-bedrooms, and I’m on my way there now to do a showing with Mia Lapelli.” I pulled off my shades and threw them into the door pocket. “I’m sure you’ve heard of her?”
“Who?”
Maybe not.
“Star of the biggest fantasy movie since Lord of the Rings? She’s signed a thirty-million-dollar deal with Universal for another two movies.” I clutched the door handle as Viv swerved to miss an Uber Eats bike courier.
David didn’t give a shit if she worked as a janitor as long as she passed the credit check. “Keep me updated,” he stated and hung up.
“He pissed?” Viv asked, pulling up outside The Crystal.
“That was him at a three. I wouldn’t want to see him at a ten.” I took a glug of water from the bottle she handed me. Because of her instinctive need to mother and care for people around her, Viv complained all the time that I didn’t drink enough water and would end up with diabetes. Never mind that underneath her seat lay a graveyard of coffee cups. Processed sugar was the glue that held our friendship together. “Is that the girlfriend?”
“We’re not putting a label on it.” She took a drink from her bottle. “But I’m seeing her tonight.”
“Who’s looking after Connor?” He was a kid who didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. He spoke like an eighty-year-old man and treated me as an equal. I loved my nephews, but they didn’t appreciate my lectures on financial planning.
“My cousin. Her son is the same age. They’re going to the movies to see some terrible animated film about dragons,” she explained. “But I need to check in on my dad first.”
Mr. Anderson popped into my head. I needed to call him and arrange that brunch. The stock he’d told me to buy had jumped a few points, and I needed to thank him.
Viv’s eye twitched, which meant she was trying not to cry.
“How is your dad?”
It took her a beat to answer. “As good as he can be. He remembered my name yesterday. But the bad days are beginning to outweigh the good.”
“Getting old sucks,” I sympathized, hoping I’d be as sharp as Mr. Anderson when I reached his age. “But think of it this way—the memory of you might not be there, but the love is.”
Her throat bobbed up and down. “I know.” She coughed and shook her hair out. “Hell, you almost got me sobbing. I swear you’ve changed these last two weeks. You’re almost becoming…”
“Don’t you say it,” I sang.
“Soft.”
I checked my watch. Mia would be arriving in fifteen minutes. “Time to go.” With a final sip, I replaced the water bottle in the cup holder.
“I’ll be waiting right here for you, you big, smushy bear.” She giggled as I opened the door and hopped out.
“I am not getting soft. I’m getting hard,” I squealed louder than I meant to. An old woman walking with a poodle gave me a disapproving look as she hurried past.
“Welcome to New York,” I called to the woman’s back, slamming the door on Viv’s laughter before I headed inside.
* * *
I spritzed perfume onto my wrists and rubbed them against my neck. Mia wasn’t due for another five minutes, so I had time to freshen up for her. Not Jack, I told my reflection in the lobby’s mirror as I prepared to apply another coat of mascara.
Mia’s assistant had insisted she wanted to meet both of us when she set up the appointment, since she didn’t use an agent. I knew from Jack’s text that he was on his way up.
I paced the lobby and stopped again to fluff my hair. For Mia. Not Jack.
When the doorbell rang, I straightened my blazer and pulled open the door on a laughing Jack and Mia.
What’s so funny?
I plastered on a smile. “Mia, hi. I’m Scarlett, the listing agent. I see you’ve met Jack already?”
Mia took my hand. “Yes, we rode up in the elevator together. How do you get any work done? He’s hilarious.” The trim figure she’d achieved for the movies was hidden underneath a beige tracksuit that looked old but no doubt came right off a mannequin in Saks. She had her strawberry-blonde hair pulled into a carefree, tousled ponytail.
Jack blushed and pulled at the collar of his shirt. “You’re too kind. I’m a huge fan by the way.”
Yeah, yeah, you’re both each other’s biggest fans. Move on.
“Why don’t we start with the living room?” I suggested, leading the way.
“It’s beautiful,” Mia said, taking in the detailing around the fireplace and the furniture. “What’s the square footage for this again?” she asked Jack.
“Eight thousand square feet,” I answered. “Another two thousand for the outdoor terrace. All south-facing windows in here, so you’ll get the sun all day.”
Her eyes roamed over everything, including Jack. “Can I check out the primary suite?” she directed to him, and he fumbled with his lime-green tie.
I held my arm out in the direction of the bedrooms. “You’ll love the walk-in closets. His and hers.” Viv sprang to mind. “Or hers and hers. Theirs and theirs. Whatever you want.”
Mia didn’t follow me. “Aren’t you coming?” She waited beside Jack, who’d turned into a statue.
“I’ll wait out here,” he told her. “Scarlett’s got it covered.”
“C’mon, I don’t bite.” Mia pouted. “Unless it’s in the script,” she tittered, wagging a finger for him to follow.
* * *
“We’ll grab lunch,” I promised Mia as the elevator doors swished shut on our showing. “Never,” I muttered.
Jack appeared from the kitchen. “Well?”
“She wants it,” I told him.
“That’s great, right?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Why do you look pissed then?”
Because she crawled over you like eczema. “I’m not. She asked a lot of questions.” I clicked my neck. “To you.”
The way her eyes sought out Jack’s as we’d toured the place had filled me with jealousy I hadn’t known I was capable of. He’s not a piece of meat or a stripper gyrating on a pole—show him some respect, I’d wanted to demand, before remembering I needed the famous, giant flirt to buy a unit.
Jack had remained polite and circumspect throughout, excusing himself to go and “take a call” a few times. Although Mia had managed to sniff out whatever room he’d hidden in and started bleating on about her recent issue with finding a decent dog groomer.
He and I had exchanged a look behind her back. First-world problems. A spark of connection that it was us versus them.
“Think she’ll put an offer in?”
“On you? Yes.”
Jack rocked back on his heels. “She is a movie star.”
“You’d be dumb not to,” I told him. “Men the world over would lambast you.”
Jack tutted. “Too bad she’s not my type.”
When we stepped into the elevator together, I punched the button a little too hard. “What is your type?”
The scent of him wafted up my nostrils as he brushed against me: apple shampoo and mint shower gel, mingled with a woody aftershave. Fresh and masculine.
He licked his lips. “Not what I thought.”
“Vague,” I noted.
“Keeps people on their toes, Munroe.”
“Are we using surnames now, Shane?”
He laughed. “I thought sweetheart might be too much.”
I chewed my lip. “It’s hard to use a pet name for a woman and not sound condescending. No matter how charming the man.”
His chest puffed. “Charming, am I?”
My eyes darted to the panel button on the left. Three more floors to go, and I could escape the intoxicating smell of him that made me want to move closer and sniff his jacket. “I never specified the man.”
“Excuses, excuses,” he said, looking at the panel and catching my eye.
What would it be like if he pressed the emergency stop button and pushed me up against the mirrored back wall? Would he nibble my neck first? Or jam those full lips against mine?
“Scarlett?” He waved a hand in front of my eyes.
“Huh?” The doors opened to reveal the lobby. “Sorry.” I hurried out, and he followed.
“Must have been some daydream,” he commented, reaching the front door first and holding it open for me. Damn, chivalry.
“Thinking about a contract.”
Viv remained outside where I’d left her. Through the window, I could see her cramming a pizza slice into her mouth as she talked on the hands-free. This is not some romcom movie starring Sandra Bullock. I am not the adorable klutz the guy ends up with. If anything, I’m the snarky sidekick destined to be alone.
He spotted Viv in the SUV and walked me to the passenger door. “You have a tell when you lie.”
“No I don’t,” I lied, keeping still and hoping the tell he’d noticed wasn’t… telling.
“Did it again,” he told me, opening the door for me.
I have no control over my own body. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“And again,” he teased. “Hi, Viv.”
Viv gulped down the slice and waved. “Hi. Want a slice?” She gestured to the pizza box in the passenger seat.
I lifted it and placed it on the back seat before sliding in and buckling up.
He shook his head. “No thanks. I better get going. Keep me in the loop about Mia?” he directed to me.
My phone chirped with an email. “Speak of the devil,” I murmured.
“She emailed you? With an offer?”
I scanned the words and nodded. “Yes and yes. Full-ask offer.”
Jack punched the air. “Amazing.”
“But,” I interrupted his victory dance, “she wants your number to ask you something about a restaurant you mentioned on the way up in the elevator?”
He stopped moving. “Uh, okay, that’s… awkward.”
“Should I pass it on?” I asked. He’d said she wasn’t his type. But since when did a beautiful, famous, and filthy-rich woman with abs not turn out to be a man’s type?
Do you want to go on a date with her?hung on the edge of my tongue. But I didn’t want to hear the answer.
“No, yeah, yes… we don’t want to piss her off. Not until the contracts are signed at least. I’ll let her down easy. Keep it professional.”
I don’t want you to let her down. You shouldn’t be picking her up in the first place.
“All right.” I put my head down as I forwarded his contact info.
“I’ll text you later,” he said to the side of my head. “Bye, Viv.”
“Okay. Bye.”
Viv paused from reaching into the back seat for another slice of Hawaiian. “See ya.”
He closed the door, and I looked up into the side mirror. His shoulders were slumped.
A string of cheese dangled from Viv’s lips. “You are pissed. Why?”
I opened the glove compartment, pulled out a napkin, and handed it to her. “Because.”
“Let me hazard a guess. Because the big-shot actress is trying to move in on your man?” She wiped her mouth and hands, then scrunched the napkin into a ball. Without me needing to remind her, she threw it into the car bin and not the footwell.
“He is not my man.”
She started up the engine. “But you want him to be.”
“I don’t want any man.”
“Tell yourself often enough, you might start to believe it.” With a quick swerve to the right, we pulled away into traffic. “But something tells me you’ll never watch any movie with her in it again.”
I crossed my arms. “She’s ruined the franchise for me.”
Viv rocked from side to side as she drove. “Scarlett and Jack kissing in a tree, or F-U-C-K-I?—”
“Jesus, Viv, that’s a little graphic for a Monday afternoon,” I cried.
“You want me to sing Jack and Jill instead?”
“Please don’t desecrate any more nursery rhymes,” I requested as Mia replied to my email with a smiley face.